homemade kodaks, one or two stray views of Yellowstone Park, the big
trees of California, Niagara Falls, and several groups that were
supposed to be amusing. "Oh, here's a picture of that printer," she
cried, picking up one which showed the interior of an old-fashioned
printing office, with a Washington hand-press and a shock-headed
printer's devil sitting on a high stool, his face and shirt-front
bespattered with ink. "That looks just like him. Why,--why, Mr. Falkner,
you've torn that picture! What _will_ Helen Mayfield say?"

"Awfully sorry," said Dick, "I'll find her another. It was very awkward
of me, I am sure." Then in desperation, "But tell me more about this
printer of whom I remind you; what was his name?"

"Oh, I don't know that," replied Amy, "but he was very kind to me and
sat up at night to design a cover for a little booklet I was having
printed. I never saw him to thank him though, for he was out when I
called the next day. I heard that Mr. Udell had a tramp working for
him and I suppose it was he, for he acted very strangely--he may have
been drinking. It is too bad for he must have been a splendid workman.
There ought to be one of those books here," and she began turning over
the things on the table. "Yes, here it is." And she handed Dick the
pamphlet that had caused him so much trouble that night in the office.

It is hard to say where the matter would have ended had not Miss
Jameson, another member of the social committee, appeared just then,
and ordered them to the parlor, where Amy was wanted to play.

After the company had listened to several instrumental pieces and one
or two solos by different girls, one of the young men asked, "Don't
you sing, Mr. Falkner?"