"I remember you from the days when my father used to carry me around--" "He was a grand man, Miss Mary; it's a pity he's gone," said Mac and promptly buttoned his mouth again.
"I want to talk to you about something," she said, "but first I want you to promise to keep it a secret." He blinked his eyes at that, and as much as a grim faced man can look troubled, he looked troubled.
"There are vera few secrets that can be kept around this place," was his strange reply.

"Might I ask, Miss Mary, of what nature is the subject ?" And seeing that she hesitated he added, first looking cautiously over his shoulder, "Is it anything, for instance, to do wi' Mr.Woodward?
Or, say, the conduct of the business ?" "No, no," said Mary, "it--it's about women--" Mac stared at her, but when she added "-- about women working in the factory," he drew a breath of relief.
"Aye," he said, "I think I can promise to keep quiet about that." "Isn't it true," she began, "that most of the machinery we use doesn't require a great deal of skill to run it ?" "We've a lot of automatics," acknowledged Mac.

"Your grandfather's idea, Miss Mary.

A grand man.

He was one of the first to make the machine think instead of the operator." "How long does it take to break in an ordinary man ?" "A few weeks is generally enough.