Larry’s desire to get a little study in during his spare moments was the cause of some trouble between him and the office boy who had taken Peter’s place. This lad’s name was Tom Mead, and he was much the same type of a youngster as Peter was. Not that he was bad, but he was up to sharp tricks, and he did not like to work when he could get out of it. Bud Nelson was, by right of long service, the head office boy in the city room. Larry came next, and then Tom. Things had been pretty lively in the _Leader_ office for the past week, as there was an election on and there were many stories for the reporters. This made much more copy than usual, and, consequently, more trips from the city room to the pneumatic tube. The boys had fallen into the habit of taking turns with rushing the copy, which went up in batches, so that the work would be more evenly divided. At Larry’s suggestion there were three chairs in a row. When one boy took some copy, to the tube he came back and took the end seat. The boy who had been immediately behind him had, in the meanwhile moved up one seat to be ready for the next batch. Thus they had to run only a third as often as before, and the work was shared evenly. When it came his turn to take the rear seat, which insured him several minutes of quietness, Larry would take out his lesson book and study. This did not seem to meet with the approval of Tom, who had a dislike for “book-worms” as he called them. “Regular sissy-boy,” he said of Larry, though he did not venture to call our hero that to his face. One afternoon, when Larry had hurried to the tube with a bunch of copy he came back, expecting to take the last seat, which had been occupied by Tom. He found the latter still in the end chair, and the boy showed no signs of moving up. “Move ahead,” said Larry, in a low tone. “Move yourself!” exclaimed Tom. “I’ve got as good a right here as you. I’m tired of chasing copy while you read books. I’m going to take a rest.” “I’m studying, not reading,” said Larry. “Besides I carry my share of copy. It will be your turn in a minute.” “Copy!” called Mr. Emberg, and Bud, who had moved to the first chair, jumped up and ran for it. “It’s your turn next,” said Larry to Tom. “I don’t care if it is,” was the answer. “Copy!” cried Mr. Emberg’s assistant. Tom did not leave his seat. “It’s your turn,” repeated Larry. “I don’t care if it is!” exclaimed Tom. “Go with it yourself if you’re in such a hurry.” “Copy here!” was the cry. “Come, what’s the matter with you boys? Going to sleep?” Mr. Emberg, wondering at the delay, looked up. He saw Bud returning to the room, and, being aware of the understanding among the boys about their turns, looked to see what the hitch was between Larry and Tom. “Whose turn is it?” asked the city editor. “Be quick about it. Don’t stand there all day. The paper has to come out.” “It’s his turn!” exclaimed Larry. “Well, he’s always readin’,” growled Tom. “I’m tired of runnin’ with his copy.”