At once the workman in
charge took up a steel bar not unlike a metal yardstick and began
pressing down the mass to a uniform thickness. This done he ran the
bar deftly beneath and turned the vast piece over just as one would
flop over some gigantic griddle-cake. He continued to change it from
side to side, pressing it down in any spot where it was too thick,
but never once touching it with his hands. He then cut off a long
narrow strip and fed it into a machine at his elbow, the boys
regarding him expectantly. Suddenly, to their great surprise, the
formless ribbon of candy that had gone into the machine began to
come forth at the other end in prettily marked discs, each with the
firm name stamped upon it.
"Hoarhound tablets, you see," observed the boy. "The Italian who is
making peanut brittle has flattened his on the table in the same
fashion and marked it into bars which later will be cut and wrapped
in paraffine paper."
"I never realized so much candy was manufactured in one day,"
exclaimed Bob as they went down in the elevator.
"Oh, this isn't much," returned the boy. "We are running light just
now. You should come a few weeks before Christmas if you want to see
things hum here."
"I guess that would be a good time for visitors to keep out,"
returned Bob as they smilingly bade good-bye to their guide and
started home in the motor-car.
As the automobile glided into Fifth Avenue Van said:
"Look, Bobbie, there's a candy shop! I suppose all that stuff in the
window was made in exactly the same way as those things we saw to-day,
don't you?"
But Bob did not turn his head.
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