"You've forgotten the quads," said Dick, "and you haven't enough ink.
You must put on spectacles to read it."
"That's nothing" replied Pete, growing red as he began to separate the
words and rub more ink on the tablet. Again he pressed down the handle,
lifted it up and gazed again. This time the name ran:
PETEDOW
(ce rville, Ill )
The rest was so smutchy that not a letter was legible.
"Better go into partnership," said Dick; "you are not smart enough for
an apprentice, but on account of your capital you might be worth
something as a partner."
Pete cleaned the tablet with half the turpentine and benzine in the
bottle and began afresh. This time came out in watery lines:
PETE DOWNS
centreville,
Illinois
U. S.
"Why, what's the matter now?"
"Forgotten enough leads and a capital," replied Dick. "What is the use
in trying alone; go in with some boy who knows, and you'll get on."
"Perhaps. But I'll clear up first."
His mother had provided him with overalls for just such occasions; but
Pete was confident that printing was neater work than carpentering and
had avoided thinking of them. The ink was so imbedded in one corner of
the tablet and so scanty in another, that he tried to even the amount,
and then wash off the whole. Soon his finger-tips were coal black and
sticky; to remove this difficulty, he put finger by finger into the
turpentine, rendering that muddy and spreading five distinct streaks on
the back of his right hand. Then he poured benzine into the left hand
to rub on the back of the right hand. This operation sent ink and
benzine up his coat-sleeve, and all ten fingers became so useless that
in order to use them more freely he rubbed off their contents on
his--jacket. Seeing what he had done, his increasing fears brought
tears; to check which, he stuck his fingers into his eyes; which
hurting, sent more tears mingling with ink down his cheeks, just at the
moment that his mother appeared and that Dick's instinct led him to
disappear out of the window or door, he never knew which.
"My son, for shame!" said she; "how could you forget the overalls?"
"Oh! I don't know--wish I hadn't. I am going to take a partner and then
it won't happen again."
He cried, and was so funny-looking that there was nothing for his mother
to do but to laugh and advise speedy partnership.
"What boy would you have," asked he. "Dick has been here tormenting me,
I don't want him. I might try Shel; it need not be for life, you know.
He had a press last year and has got used to it."
"Very well," answered his mother. "I expected as much. Change your suit,
go ask him, and tell him I approve because his mother makes him wear
overalls."
Pete had not anticipated such a speedy ending of his troubles, and
hastened away to do his mother's bidding. But whilst dressing, he
reflected that Shel knew too much and would snub him, and that Clarence
was the kind of boy who could get jobs easily. So he went to Clarence's
and proposed partnership.
"What terms?" demanded Clarence in a business-like manner, hands in his
pockets. "I'm pretty particular about the contract. Are you a
greenhorn? That's got to be taken into account."
"Well, yes, suppose I am now; but I need not be long if you keep your
bargain, besides my press is new and that counts for me."
"Well, yes, it does. Self-inker? lots of type?"
"Well, not so very much; self-inker though. Or come, you just go in and
try it for a month and we'll make terms afterwards."
"Pretty dangerous plan; but I'll try it, seeing it is a new press. I'll
come to your house right after dinner; and we have dinner right after
breakfast, so the kitchen work can be all done up. One gets hungry
between dinner and supper; and it's always a cold supper, so it needn't
be any work."
"Agreed," said Pete. "I know those tricks on meals, too."
The boys parted till half-past twelve, when Clarence appeared and set to
work in a vigorous manner to properly clean and ink the tablet. Pete,
with overalls on, watched every motion. His name was printed and came
out clear, beautiful: