“I intended to have a confab with the managing editor as soon as I got back, Darling,” Dick said after he had heard all the news; “but I didn’t think my talk would be with you. You know what we were saying some time ago about my writing--writing a novel. I have been reading as much as I could while I was away, and I have the plot of a good story in my mind. Pretty well worked up, too, so that when I begin to write it I can go straight ahead. “Now what I am most in need of is time to write. I have about a week’s work to finish up the letters of my last trip, and of course I will do that first. After that I want to get some time to myself, if I can manage it. Mother was so economical while I was away that she has saved more than half of my salary; and that with what I had saved before will bring my fund up to nearly a thousand dollars in the bank. I can do the actual writing of a novel in three months; and I feel as if I could afford to ask for that much vacation from the office, without salary of course. Now is the time for me to strike while my name is in the papers so much.” “You are quite right to strike while the iron is hot,” Darling replied. “The kind of work you are doing now will not last always, as I told you before; it never does with any man. But I think you can do better than ask for a long vacation. I have never known a man to be given a long vacation for such a purpose, and I should not like to begin with you in making such a break. They all know how we stand toward each other, and they would accuse me of favoritism at once if I did it. Why not go on space, Dick?” “On space?” Dick repeated. “I don’t see how that would help me any.” “It would help me to help you,” Darling replied; “and of course I want to help you as much as I can, though on the other hand I must do what is best for the office. You wouldn’t ask me to show you favors that I would not show to another man in your place.” “Certainly not!” Dick exclaimed. “I wouldn’t accept them.” “You can go on space as a special man, and I shall feel warranted in paying you fifteen dollars a column. Of course in that case your salary will stop, and you will be paid only for what you write, or the time you are actually busy. That will leave you master of your own time to a great extent. You might average perhaps three days a week for the paper and three for yourself, and at that rate you could finish your novel in six months. You know some of the space men make a great deal of money. I think that will be better for you than to stop work entirely for three months; and it will certainly be better for the office, because we can call upon you whenever we need you.” “I don’t know but you’re right about that, Darling,” Dick answered after a little reflection. “It will seem strange at first not to have the salary coming in regularly; but, then, three columns a week will more than make up for it, and I think I ought to average that much.”