noon
`` It probably would n't interest you ; the pig 's the iron cast at the furnace . It 's worked in the forges , and hammered into blooms and anconies , chunks or stout bars of wrought iron . We do better than two tons a week . '' The sound of a short , jarring blow rose from the Forge , it was repeated , became a continuous part of the serene noon . `` That 's the hammer now , '' he explained . `` It goes usually all day and most nights . We 're used to it , do n't hear it ; but strangers complain . ''