“Give me the types; I’ll sort them and set up my name, so you can begin as soon as you are ready.  You know what a help I was when we did the programmes.  I’m almost sure the girls will want cards, and I know your mother would like some more tags,” said Jill, briskly rattling the letters into the different compartments, while Jack inked the rollers and hunted up his big apron, whistling the while with recovered spirits.

A dozen neat cards were soon printed, and Jill insisted on paying six cents for them, as earning was not borrowing.  A few odd tags were found and done for Mamma, who immediately ordered four dozen at six cents a dozen, though she was not told why there was such a pressing call for money.

Jack’s monthly half-dollar had been spent the first week,—­ twenty-five cents for a concert, ten paid a fine for keeping a book too long from the library, ten more to have his knife ground, and five in candy, for he dearly loved sweeties, and was under bonds to Mamma not to spend more than five cents a month on these unwholesome temptations.  She never asked the boys what they did with their money, but expected them to keep account in the little books she gave them; and, now and then, they showed the neat pages with pardonable pride, though she often laughed at the queer items.

All that evening Jack & Co. worked busily, for when Frank came in he good-naturedly ordered some pale-pink cards for Annette, and ran to the store to choose the right shade, and buy some packages for the young printer also.

“What do you suppose he is in such a pucker for?” whispered Jill, as she set up the new name, to Frank, who sat close by, with one eye on his book and one on her.

“Oh, some notion.  He’s a queer chap; but I guess it isn’t much of a scrape, or I should know it.  He’s so good-natured he’s always promising to do things for people, and has too much pluck to give up when he finds he can’t.  Let him alone, and it will all come out soon enough,” answered Frank, who laughed at his brother, but loved him none the less for the tender heart that often got the better of his young head.

But for once Frank was mistaken; the mystery did not come out, and Jack worked like a beaver all that week, as orders poured in when Jill and Annette showed their elegant cards; for, as everybody knows, if one girl has a new thing all the rest must, whether it is a bow on the top of her head, a peculiar sort of pencil, or the latest kind of chewing-gum.  Little play did the poor fellow get, for every spare minute was spent at the press, and no invitation could tempt him away, so much in earnest was our honest little Franklin about paying his debt.  Jill helped all she could, and cheered his labors with her encouragement, remembering how he stayed at home for her.

“It is real good of you to lend a hand, and I’m ever so much obliged,” said Jack, as the last order was struck off, and the drawer of the type-box held a pile of shining five and ten cent pieces, with two or three quarters.