"No, sir; I am sorry to say that I am not. I write what papa calls a
mincing hand; all jumbled up together, you know, or running into each
other, the letters are, and so difficult to read that papa said when I
came away he hoped I would call on his friend, Dr. Stuart, every day,
and write a letter on his type-writer."

"What is that?" interrupted Nimble Dick, his face curious.

"What? A type-writer? Oh, it is a strange little machine used instead of
the pen--at least, a very few people use it. It is quite new, I think,
and must be very curious. I never saw one, but the writing looks just
like print. Dr. Stuart, a pastor in the city, is my papa's friend, and
writes to him on his, and papa reads the letter with great satisfaction,
saying to me, 'There, daughter, that is something like! People who
cannot write well enough for others to read should print.'"

"They are not so very uncommon, Miss Dennis," explained Dr. Everett, who
saw the eagerness on Nimble Dick's face. "It is a comparatively new
invention, but is being caught up very promptly. I think nearly all the
leading lawyers use them, and those who do not own them are getting
their copying done at the rooms. They are very ingenious little
instruments."

"Did you say you never saw one?"

This question from Mr. Roberts to Gracie, and he added:--

"Mrs. Roberts, I believe you have never had other than the first glimpse
I showed you in the Parker Building. I have an idea. Suppose I rent one