The Adventures of Bobby Orde

r, tied with a heavy cord, and ornamented with the red sticker and seals of the Express Company. With some importance Bobby opened his new knife and cut

venth birthday, from

rooves into which the type could be clamped by means of end screws. The mechanism was worked by a small square lever at the back. Bobby opened a red pasteboard box to discover a miniature font of O

ink of that?" c

n't you?" said his father. "You might make

upstairs and installed it on his little table. He would have liked very

fter his experience in taking it out. Ink he smeared on the top plate, according to directions, rolling it back and forth with the composition roller until it was evenly distributed. Nothing remained now but to adjust

ions, the impression itself was blurr

roused in him. The remedy for the inversion was plain enough. Bobby changed the type end for end and turned

aloud. "It's just li

periment seemed only to approximate. One end persisted in rising too high or sinking too low. The problem was absorbing and all the time Bobby was thinking busily along, to him, original lines. At last, by means of a strip

h ink,"

rchief. The paste proved very sticky and the handkerchief was effective only at the expense of great labour. Bobby ruined three more car

ut always they slipped. He attempted to insert bits of paper under what proved to be the shorter types. This improved the results somewhat, but was nevertheless far from satisfactory. By now he had learned not to use a fresh card every time. The first half-dozen were printed back and forth, front and behind. Bobby was sm

aid he, "how do you

him. "You are a sight! Don't you kn

rise. Lunch! Why he had hardly beg

it off," said Mr.

ught at

ke off the ink?"

replied his father;

a toothbrush?" begged Bobby. He saw in

d Mrs. Orde. "Co

of the bathroom. Mr. Orde examin

The printing doesn't seem to be a howling s

ed Bobby; "but I'll f

ter breakfast he begged a tiny bottle of benzine and an old toothbrush from his mother, and went at it again for nearly an hour. The benzine worked like a charm. The type came out bright as new and the old ink dissolved readily from the platen and roller. Bobby took note that he should have clea

ully against the trunk. Bobby sat cross-legged on the ground watching her-and him. Kitty and Margaret reclined flat on their backs, gazing up through the leaves. Morris alone showed a trace of activity. He had fished from his pockets the short, blunt stub of a pencil, a penny and

shouted leapi

cried, startled by

go home,"

spoiled the even number for a game. But he wou

arose from his warm corner, stretched deliberately, yawned, glance

the solution. To the flash of embryonic creative instinct vouchsafed him, Morris's penny had represented type, the inequalities of its design were the inequalities of alignment over which he had struggled so long and

esitated. On his father's desk down stairs was mucilage, but mucilage was strictly forbidden. The hesitation was but momentary, however, for the creative spirit in full blast does not recognize ordinary restrictions. With his own round-pointed

that had silently and through the small experiences of babyhood, led him over the edge of the dark, warm nest to this first independent trial of the wings. He pressed the lever gently and took out the card. It was not a very go

rectification of minor errors. And by noon the press was working steadily, though

distributed it and set up another name-Miss Celia Carleton. He had printed nea

sternly, "what are you