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.
"I love to; only it would be nicer if I knew what we were working for," she said demurely, as she scattered type for the last time; and seeing that Jack was both tired and grateful, hoped to get a hint of the secret.
"I want to tell you, dreadfully; but I can't, because I've promised." "What, never ?" "Never!" and Jack looked as firm as a rock.
"Then I shall find out, for _I_ haven't promised." "You can't." "See if I don't!" "You are sharp, but you won't guess this.

It's a tremendous secret, and nobody will tell it." "You'll tell it yourself.

You always do." "I won't tell this.

It would be mean." "Wait and see; I can get anything out of you if I try;" and Jill laughed, knowing her power well, for Jack found it very hard to keep a secret from her.
"Don't try; please don't! It wouldn't be right, and you don't want to make me do a dishonorable thing for your sake, I know." Jack looked so distressed that Jill promised not to _make_ him tell, though she held herself free to find out in other ways, if she could.
Thus relieved, Jack trudged off to school on Friday with the two dollars and seventy-five cents jingling in his pocket, though the dear gold coin had to be sacrificed to make up the sum.

He did his lessons badly that day, was late at recess in the afternoon, and, as soon as school was over, departed in his rubber boots "to take a walk," he said, though the roads were in a bad state with a spring thaw.