l-saw worked by foot-power. Nobody bothered with that either, for
the simple reason that all the saw blades were broken and the novelty
had worn off. Bobby would have liked to experiment with it, but of
course he did not feel like suggesting repairs.

But the Upper Rooms were full of echoes and noises when one clumped on
the bare floor, and space with nothing to knock over when one scuffled,
and the air was always cold enough so one could see his breath.
Therefore the Upper Rooms were popular, but in a different manner and
for different purposes than Bobby's warmed and furnished chamber.

Here the rougher, noisier romping took place, and here was finally
brought to adjustment the smouldering rivalry between the two small
boys.

XVI

THE THIRD STORY

Bobby's room was also in the third story and up among the gables. It
slanted here, it slanted there, steeply or gradually according to the
demands of the roof outside. There May, Johnny and Martin curled up on
the western window seat; Bobby and Carter Irvine sat on the floor;
Caroline drew up a straight-back chair. Then while the twilight lasted
they "talked," in children's aimless fashion, about everything, anything
or nothing.

By and by somebody yawned.

"My, it's getting dark. Light up, Johnny."

Then could be seen the prize attraction of the room--the deal table on
which one could use ink, mucilage, scissors and other dangerous weapons.
Here was screwed the toy printing press. Bobby, after a few further
attempts to adopt the regulation fonts of type to its chase, had rather
lost interest in it, but his new companions revived it. He showed them
exactly how to get clear and good impressions, and in the explanation
proved a most comfortable glow over finding something at last in which
he was distinctly and indisputably superior. All had to have cards
printed. Each bought his own and set up his own type; Bobby made
adjustments, and then again each was privileged to make his own
impressions.

Johnny English, however, was keenly alive to the commercial aspects of
the case. One day he appeared in triumph bearing an order from Mr.
Ellison's wholesale house. It read quite simply: "Use Star Stove
Polish," a legend well within the possibilities of the little press.

"Got an order for a thousand of 'em!" cried Johnny triumphantly. "We're
to print them and distribute them. We get four dollars for it!"

Four dollars was untold wealth, though, counting the distri