I've promised to do this myself, and I will;" and Jack wagged his head resolutely.
"Couldn't you do something with the printing-press?
Do me some cards, and then, perhaps, the other girls will want some," said Jill, as a forlorn hope.
"Just the thing! What a goose I was not to think of it.

I'll rig the old machine up at once." And, starting from his seat, Jack dived into the big closet, dragged out the little press, and fell to oiling, dusting, and putting it in order, like one relieved of a great anxiety.
"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.