in the chase. Either it would
not bind, or it warped out or in so that even without trial it could be
seen that a clear impression was manifestly impossible. These and other
mechanical difficulties occupied them until noon. Johnny was wild-eyed
and nervous.

"Why, we haven't even started to print!" he cried, "We'll never get a
job done at this rate! I don't believe the old press is any good,
anyhow!"

"Yes, it is," insisted Bobby doggedly. "We'll get it yet."

He hardly finished his lunch, so eager was he to be back at the problem.
Johnny did not come until after two o'clock, and then stood his hands in
his pockets, surveying his absorbed partner with some disgust.

"Well," said he, "is the old thing working yet?"

Bobby looked up absorbedly.

"She's going to in just a second--you wait," he muttered.

A moment later he lifted the locked form in triumph. It held together
and it was flat. Immediately Johnny's nearly extinct enthusiasm flamed
up.

"Stick her in!" he cried. "Come on, we can show Papa a sample to-night.
How many an hour do you suppose we can print on her, Bobby?"

"I don't know," replied Bobby.

They inserted the form, slipped a blank envelope in the corner and were
ready for the first trial.

"It won't be even on the paper," said Bobby, "but we can fix that
later."

He pulled down and back the long lever and the two heads bumped together
over the result. One side of the legend was very heavy and black and
clear, but the other was almost invisible.

"Oh, snakes!" cried Johnny in disappointment.

"Oh, that's all right," reasoned Bobby out of his experience with the
toy press. "All it needs is paper underneath."

But paper underneath proved inadequate. It was impossible with paper to
establish the nice gradation necessary to equalize the pressure. And
then, also, too much paper made too deep an impression.

At the failure of this tried expedient even Bobby's patience ran short
for the time being.

"Come on over to my house," suggested Johnny crossly. "The crowd's
coming. I got boxing gloves for Christmas too, but I bet they're no good
either. I bet they rip first thing."

Sore at heart and in glum silence the two marched around the corner to
the Englishes'.

Here already in the cold third story were Grace Jones and Martin Drake,
skipping about in a game of hop-scotch to keep warm. Shortly May and
Carter arrived together and Caroline ascended from her own room where
she had been sewing