On busy days, these stools are occupied by a host of women, who wait for the approved nutmeg to drop down through the wooden "chimney" and out of the little sliding doors. Presumably this nutmeg-picking would make a right din: not only the sound of nutmeg ricocheting down the chute and the cracking of the outer shell, but I suppose also the chattering of the women sitting side by side. Now though, the workfloor was deserted.
