Jack Has a Mystery"What is the matter? Does your head ache?" asked Jill, oneevening in March, observing that Jack sat with his head in hishands, an attitude which, with him, meant either pain orperplexity.

　　"No; but I'm bothered. I want some money, and I don't see how Ican earn it," he answered, tumbling his hair about, and frowningdarkly at the fire.

　　"How much?" and Jill's ready hand went to the pocket where herlittle purse lay, for she felt rich with several presents lately madeher.

　　"Two seventy-five. No, thank you, I won't borrow.""What is it for?""Can't tell.""Why, I thought you told me everything.""Sorry, but I can't this time. Don't you worry; I shall think ofsomething.""Couldn't your mother help?""Don't wish to ask her.""Why! can't she know?""Nobody can.""How queer! Is it a scrape, Jack?" asked Jill, looking as curious asa magpie.

　　"It is likely to be, if I can't get out of it this week, somehow.""Well, I don't see how I can help if I'm not to know anything"; andJill seemed rather hurt.

　　"You can just stop asking questions, and tell me how a fellow canearn some money. That would help. I've got one dollar, but I musthave some more"; and Jack looked worried as he fingered the littlegold dollar on his watch-guard.

　　"Oh, do you mean to use that?""Yes, I do; a man must pay his debts if he sells all he has to do it,"said Jack sternly.

　　"Dear me; it must be something very serious." And Jill lay quitestill for five minutes, thinking over all the ways in which Jack everdid earn money, for Mrs. Minot liked to have her boys work, andpaid them in some way for all they did.

　　"Is there any wood to saw?" she asked presently, being veryanxious to help.

　　"All done." "Paths to shovel?""NO snow. "Lawn to rake, then?""Not time for that yet.""Catalogue of books?""Frank got that job.""Copy those letters for your mother?""Take me too long. Must have my money Friday, if possible.""I don't see what we can do, then. It is too early or too late foreverything, and you won't borrow.""Not of you. No, nor of anyone else, if I can possibly help it. I'vepromised to do this myself, and I will"; and Jack wagged his headresolutely.

　　"Couldn't you do something with the printing-press? Do me somecards, 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 oldmachine up at once." And, starting from his seat, Jack dived intothe 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 canbegin as soon as you are ready. You know what a help I was whenwe 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, whileJack inked the rollers and hunted up his big apron, whistling thewhile with recovered spirits.

　　A dozen neat cards were soon printed, and Jill insisted on payingsix cents for them, as earning was not borrowing. A few odd tagswere found and done for Mamma, who immediately ordered fourdozen at six cents a dozen, though she was not told why there wassuch a pressing call for money.

　　Jack's monthly half-dollar had been spent the first weektwenty-five cents for a concert, ten paid a fine for keeping a booktoo long from the library, ten more to have his knife ground, andfive in candy, for he dearly loved sweeties, and was under bonds toMamma not to spend more than five cents a month on theseunwholesome temptations. She never asked the boys what they didwith their money, but expected them to keep account in the littlebooks she gave them; and, now and then, they showed the neatpages with pardonable pride, though she often laughed at the queeritems.

　　All that evening Jack & Co. worked busily, for when Frank camein he good-naturedly ordered some pale-pink cards for Annette,and ran to the store to choose the right shade, and buy somepackages for the young printer also.

　　"What do you suppose he is in such a pucker for?" whispered Jill,as she set up the new name, to Frank, who sat close by, with oneeye on his book and one on her.

　　"Oh, some notion. He's a queer chap; but I guess it isn't much of ascrape, or I should know it. He's so good-natured he's alwayspromising to do things for people, and has too much pluck to giveup when he finds he can't. Let him alone, and it will all come outsoon enough," answered Frank, who laughed at his brother, butloved him none the less for the tender heart that often got thebetter of his young head.

　　But for once Frank was mistaken; the mystery did not come out,and Jack worked like a beaver all that week, as orders poured inwhen Jill and Annette showed their elegant cards; for, aseverybody knows, if one girl has a new thing all the rest must,whether it is a bow on the top of her head, a peculiar sort of pencil,or the latest kind of chewing-gum. Little play did the poor fellowget, for every spare minute was spent at the press, and noinvitation could tempt him away, so much in earnest was ourhonest little Franklin about paying his debt. Jill helped all shecould, 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 muchobliged," said Jack, as the last order was struck off, and the drawerof the type-box held a pile of shining five and ten cent pieces, withtwo or three quarters.

　　"I love to; only it would be nicer if I knew what we were workingfor," she said demurely, as she scattered type for the last time; andseeing that Jack was both tired and grateful, hoped to get a hint ofthe 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 Jilllaughed, knowing her power well, for Jack found it very hard tokeep a secret from her.

　　"Don't try; please don't! It wouldn't be right, and you don't want tomake 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 twodollars and seventy-five cents jingling in his pocket, though thedear gold coin had to be sacrificed to make up the sum. He did hislessons badly that day, was late at recess in the afternoon, and, assoon as school was over, departed in his rubber boots "to take awalk," he said, though the roads were in a bad state with a springthaw. Nothing was seen of him till after tea-time, when he camelimping in, very dirty and tired, but with a reposeful expression,which betrayed that a load was off his mind. Frank was busy abouthis own affairs and paid little attention to him, but Jill was ontenter-hooks to know where he had been, yet dared not ask thequestion.

　　"Merry's brother wants some cards. He liked hers so much hewishes to make his lady-love a present. Here's the name"; and Jillheld up the order from Harry Grant, who was to be married in theautumn.

　　"Must wait till next week. I'm too tired to do a thing to-night, and Ihate the sight of that old press," answered Jack, laying himselfdown upon the rug as if every joint ached.

　　"What made you take such a long walk? You look as tired as ifyou'd been ten miles," said Jill, hoping to discover the length of thetrip.

　　"Had to. Four or five miles isn't much, only my leg bothered me";and Jack gave the ailing member a slap, as if he had found it muchin his way that day; for, though he had given up the crutches longago, he rather missed their support sometimes. Then, with a greatyawn, he stretched himself out to bask in the blaze, pillowing hishead on his arms.

　　"Dear old thing, he looks all used up; I won't plague him withtalking"; and Jill began to sing, as she often did in the twilight.

　　By the time the first song ended a gentle snore was heard, and Jacklay fast asleep, worn out with the busy week and the walk, whichhad been longer and harder than anyone guessed. Jill took up herknitting and worked quietly by firelight, still wondering andguessing what the secret could be; for she had not much to amuseher, and little things were very interesting if connected with herfriends. Presently Jack rolled over and began to mutter in his sleep,as he often did when too weary for sound slumber. Jill paid noattention till he uttered a name which made her prick up her earsand listen to the hroken sentences which followed. Only a fewwords, but she dropped her work, saying to herself,"I do believe he is talking about the secret. Now I shall find out,and he will tell me himself, as I said he would."Much pleased, she leaned and listened, but could make no sense ofthe confused babble about "heavy boots"; "All right, old fellow";"Jerry's off"; and "The ink is too thick."The slam of the front door woke Jack, and he pulled himself up,declaring that he believed he had been having a nap.

　　"I wish you'd have another," said Jill, greatly disappointed at theloss of the intelligence she seemed to be so near getting.

　　"Floor is too hard for tired bones. Guess I'll go to bed and getrested up for Monday. I've worked like fury this week, so nextI'm going in for fun"; and, little dreaming what hard times were instore for him, Jack went off to enjoy his warm bath and welcomebed, where he was soon sleeping with the serene look of onewhose dreams were happy, whose conscience was at rest.

　　"I have a few words to say to you before you go," said Mr. Acton,pausing with his hand on the bell, Monday afternoon, when thehour came for dismissing school.

　　The bustle of putting away books and preparing for as rapid adeparture as propriety allowed, subsided suddenly, and the boysand girls sat as still as mice, while the hearts of such as had beenguilty of any small sins began to beat fast.

　　"You remember that we had some trouble last winter aboutkeeping the boys away from the saloon, and that a rule was madeforbidding any pupil to go to town during recess?" began Mr.

　　Acton, who, being a conscientious man as well as an excellentteacher, felt that he was responsible for the children in schoolhours, and did his best to aid parents in guarding them from thefew temptations which beset them in a country town. A certainattractive little shop, where confectionery, baseballs, stationery,and picture papers were sold, was a favorite loafing place for someof the boys till the rule forbidding it was made, because in t............