"It's a little one that runs the coffee-mills and the printing-press," he said. "You can't do anything with it until a machinist mends it--it's all out of order, I'm told." "Perhaps I can," said Jack. "A boy who's learned the blacksmith's trade ought to be able to put it to rights." Without another word, Jack went to work. "Nothing wrong here, Mr. Gifford," he said in a minute. "Where are the screw-driver, and the monkey-wrench, and an oil-can?" "Well, well!" exclaimed Mr. Gifford, as he sent a man for the tools. "Do you think you can do it?" Jack said nothing aloud, but he told himself: "Why, it's a smaller size but like the one in the _Eagle_ office. They get out of order easily, but then it's easy to regulate them." "You do know something," said Mr. Gifford, laughing, a few minutes later, when Jack said to him: "She'll do now." "She won't do very well," added Mr. Gifford, shaking his head. "That engine never was exactly the thing. It lacks power." "It may be the pulley-belt's too loose," said Jack, after studying the mechanism for a moment. "I'll send for a man to fix it, then." "No, you needn't," said Jack. "I can tighten it so she'll run all the machinery you have. May I have an awl?" "Of course," said Mr. Gifford. "Put it to rights. There's plenty of coffee waiting to be ground." Jack went to work at the loose belt. "He's a bright fellow," said Mr. Gifford to his head-clerk. "If we wanted another boy--but we don't." "Too many now," was the short, decisive reply. It was not long before the machinery began to move. "Good!" said Mr. Gifford. "I almost wish I had something more for you to do, but I really haven't. If you could run that good-for-nothing old printing-press--" "Printing-press?" exclaimed Jack. "Over in the other window," said Mr. Gifford. "We thought of printing all our own circulars, cards, and paper bags. But it's a failure, unless we should hire a regular printer. We shall have to, I suppose. If you were a printer, now." "I've worked at a press," said Jack. "I'm something of a printer. I'm sure I can do that work. It's like a press I used to run when I worked in that business." Jack at once went to the show-window. "An 'Alligator' press," he said, "like the one in the _Standard_ office. It ought to be oiled, though. It needs adjusting, too. No wonder it would not work. I can make it go." The business of the store was beginning. Steam was up in the engine, and the coffee-mills were grinding merrily. Mr. Gifford and all his clerks were busied with other matters, and Jack was left to tinker away at the Alligator press. "She's ready to run. I'll start her," he said at last. He took an impression of the form of type that was in the press and read it. "I see," he said. "They print that on their paper bags for an advertisement. I'll show it to Mr. Gifford. There are plenty of blank ones lying around here, all ready to print."