Clara arrived on the scene just when the confusion was at its height; the room was littered with scraps of paper and inky cloths; the famous printer's towel was lying on the desk; the stove, with its hearth piled full of ashes, emitted smoke and coal gas freely; and the printer was emptying the vials of his wrath upon the public in general, because all wanted their printing done at the same instant; while the boy, with a comical look of fear upon his ink-stained face, was dodging here and there, striving as best he could to avoid the threatening disaster. The young girl's coming was like a burst of sunlight. In an instant the storm was past. The boy's face resumed at once its usual expression of lofty indifference; the fire burned freely in the stove; the towel was whisked into its proper corner; and she was greeted with the first smile that had shown on the printer's face that day. "You're just in time," he cried gaily, as he seated her in the cleanest corner of the office. "I should think so," she answered, smiling, and glancing curiously about the room; "looks as though you wanted a woman here." "I do," declared George. "I've always wanted _a_ woman; haven't I told you that often enough?" "For shame, George Udell. I came here on business," Clara answered with glowing cheeks. "Well, that's mighty important business for me," Udell answered. "You see--" but Clara interrupted him. "What's the matter here anyway?" she asked. "Oh--nothing; only my man is off on a drunken spree, and everybody wants their stuff at the same time. I worked until two o'clock last night; that's why I wasn't at your house; and I must work tonight too. I'm--Yes, there's another;" as the telephone rang. "Hello!--Yes, this is Udell's job office--We have the matter set up and will send you proof as soon as possible--I'm sorry, but we are doing the best we can--Yes--all right--I'll get at it right away--three o'clock--can't possibly get it out before"--bang! He hung up the receiver. "I tell you this is making me thin. If you had half the influence at headquarters that you profess to have, I wish you'd pray them to send me a printer." "Why don't you get help?" "Get help?--Get nothing! I tell you I've prayed, and threatened, and bribed, and promised, as well as the best prayer-meeting church member you've got, and I can't get the sign of an answer. Reckon the wire must be down," he added, a queer shadow of a smile twitching up the corners of his mouth; "Y-e-s," as the phone rang again. "I wish that wire was down." The girl noted the worn look on his rugged face, and when he had hung up the receiver again, said: "I wish I could help you, George." "You can, Clara,--you know you can," he answered quickly. "You can give me more help than the ghost of Franklin himself. I don't mind the hard work, and the worry wouldn't amount to anything if only--if only--" he stopped, as Clara shook her head. "George, you know I have told you again and again--"