s, but of too large a size for their press. They had
often reflected upon the "Co." but had delayed action, which now became
imperative and necessitated partnership with the boy who would have the
biggest press, and this was Dick.

He was interviewed but proved refractory on a point of honor. "For,"
said he, "no one will know I am 'Co.' and if you are such a great firm,
I want the public honor of belonging to you."

What was to be done? the fair could not be delayed until matters were
settled; nor could the boys give up their job as being beyond their
power.

"I'll tell you my terms," said Dick finally. "I'll put my press and all
its fixings into the concern if you'll let me have two thirds of the
profits on this job and on all the rest of the work you do this week. I
am 'hard up' and I know you have got orders ahead."

These were hard terms, but on the other hand, as Dick could command
custom, and was a good, clean printer, they acceded to his conditions
and printed the bills in startling type, using one or two kinds in the
same word, so as to make through the eye a vivid impression of the
meaning of the Fair.

From this time they had so much work to do in bill heads, tickets,
envelopes, etc., that they led a calm life of unbroken industry, laying
aside one quarter of their earnings each week as a fund for future stock
and dividing the other three quarters equally between them.

AUNT ELIZABETH'S FENCE.

The little village of H---- is a sort of double-header, having a centre
at each end, so to speak. The end nearest the railroad is known as "The
Three Corners," on account of a certain arrangement of the roads meeting
at that point, while the farther assemblage of houses bears a similar
appellation, "The Four Corners," for a similar reason. The two parts of
the town are in reality two distinct villages, although existing as one
corporate body, and are banded together like the Siamese twins by a road
leading directly from the heart of one to that of the other. On each
side of this rural street, at neighborly distances, stand pretty white
cottages, a story and a half high, nestling behind white fences under
shading maples. Midway between the two Centres these dwellings stand
further apart and are more evidently farmhouses; and just beyond a
peaceful green meadow one's attention is suddenly arrested by a queer
house--an architectural oddity, having an insignificant main part, and
numerous additions, of diffe