And now that the eventful morning had come, it brought a drizzling, disagreeable storm, so that Mr. Sanford, as he met his nephew, was constrained to admit that he did not know what they should find to supply the place of the spoiled programme. "And my little nephew is so disappointed that he has ruined his pretty comb, into the bargain," said the uncle. "I was--was trying to see what it was made of," Paul stammered, thrusting the handful of teeth into his coat pocket. "I don't see how combs are made. Could you make one, uncle?" "I never made one," Mr. Sanford replied, "but I have seen very many made. There is a comb-shop not more than a half-mile away, and it is quite a curiosity to see how they make the great horns, rough and ugly as they are, into all sorts of dainty combs and knicknacks." "What kind of horns, uncle?" "Horns from all parts of the country, Paul. This shop alone uses nearly a million horns a year, and they come in car-loads from Canada, from the great West, from Texas, from South America, and from the cattle-yards about Boston and other Eastern cities." "You don't mean the horns of common cattle?" "Yes, Paul; all kinds of horns are used, though some are much tougher and better than others. The cattle raised in the Eastern, Middle and Western States furnish the best horns, and there is the curious difference that the horns of six cows are worth no more than those of a single ox. Many millions of horn combs are made every year in Massachusetts; perhaps more than in all the rest of the country. If you like we will go down after breakfast and have a look at the comb-makers." Paul was pleased with the idea, though he would much rather have passed the day as at first proposed. He was not at all sorry that he had broken up his comb, and even went so far as to cut up the back with his knife, wondering all the while how the smooth, flat, semi-transparent comb had been produced from a rough, round, opaque horn. By and by a mail stage came rattling along, without any passengers, and Mr. Sanford took his nephew aboard. They stopped before a low, straggling pile of buildings, located upon both sides of a sluggish looking race-way which supplied the water power, covered passage-ways connecting different portions of the works. "Presently, just over this knoll," said his uncle, "you will see a big pile of horns, as they are unloaded from the cars." [Illustration: MY LADY'S TOILET.] They moved around the knoll, and there lay a monstrous pile of horns thrown indiscriminately together. "Really there are not so many as we should think," said Mr. Sanford, as Paul expressed his astonishment. "That is only a small portion of the stock of this shop. I will show you a good many more."