She fed grain in at a fixed point, the mill-stone's hub. From the spinning circumference there sifted flour for bread. Pale dust choked the air. Machinery thumped and crashed. No voice could be heard in that racket. By hand signs the children were made to know they must work for their supper.
Bad Lord Judas decrees: Humans get bread by noise and thunder, by sweat and soil. The grace of good Lord Jesus allots us a bit of butter.