Patsy, true to the tradition of his ancestors, chose green.
"I'm awful sorry," said Ned, "but we haven't any green ink. It's about the only color we haven't got."
"You can make it by mixing blue and yellow together," said Patsy.
"True," said Ned; "but the fact is, we haven't any yellow. Green and yellow are about the only colors we haven't got."
After studying the problem a few minutes, Patsy chose to have his visiting-cards printed in alternate red and blue letters, and we set about it at once, Ned arranging the type, while I took the part of devil and managed the ink. As they were to be in two colors, of course each card had to go through the press twice; and they were not very accurately "registered," as a printer would say—that is, the red letters, instead of coming exactly on even spaces between the blue, would sometimes be too far one way, sometimes too far the other, sometimes even lapping over the blue letters. But out of fifty or sixty that we printed, Patsy selected thirteen that he thought would do—"a dozen, and one for luck"—and, without waiting for them to dry, packed them together and put them into his pocket, expressing his own admiration and anticipating his mother's. He even intimated that when she saw those she would probably order some for herself.
Patsy asked about Phaeton's chariot, and whether it was hurt much when it went into the canal.
"Hardly damaged at all," said Phaeton.
Patsy hinted that he would like to see it, and he and Phaeton went over to Rogers's. When Phaeton returned an hour later, he was alone.
"Where's Patsy?" said Ned.
"Gone home with the chariot," said Phaeton.