“Oh, she has, has she?” Dick laughed. “I can see through a millstone when there’s a hole in it. Darling is busy in the evenings, but he is free in the afternoon for matinées. Ho! ho!” Florrie entered the room at this moment and heard the mention of Darling’s name. “What’s that you’re saying about Harry Darling, Dick?” she asked, blushing. “I haven’t told anything, Florrie,” Mrs. Sumner hastily said; “but I don’t think you want to have any secrets from Dick, do you?” “Of course I don’t,” Florrie answered, blushing very red. “There’s no secret about it, anyhow. Harry Darling and I are engaged, Dick.” “Oh, I’m so glad, Florrie!” Dick exclaimed; and he sprang up and threw his arms around his sister and kissed her. “Darling is one of the best fellows in the world; one of the few men I know I’d be willing to see you marry. He’s as true as steel, Florrie.” “Don’t you think I know it?” Florrie answered, still blushing. “But I was almost in hopes you’d be opposed to it. It’s so commonplace to have everybody think it just right. Mother thinks so, and of course Harry and I think so, and now you think so too. There ought to be some opposition, to add a little romance to the thing.” “Romance in a flat!” Dick laughed; “the thing’s impossible. ‘Get your facts straight,’ as Dr. Goode would say, and never mind the romance.” “Maybe I know more about Dr. Goode than you think,” Florrie answered. “Did they tell you in the office that Harry had been promoted? He is not an ordinary copy reader now, but Dr. Goode’s assistant, and helps to make up the paper, whatever that may be. I thought you all helped to make up the paper.” “Is that so?” Dick exclaimed. “That’s good news, sure. Then he makes up all except the last page, which is the first page, Florrie. That’s a riddle for you. The doctor’s assistant makes up all but the first page of the paper, which is the last page made up, because it contains the latest and most important news. The doctor wouldn’t trust anybody else to make that up; and I just wish you could see him make it up some night when there’s fifteen columns of news to go into seven columns of space. The type is all spread out on galleys, you know, and the foreman reads the titles to him on account of the doctor’s bad eyes.” “There’s just about three minutes, we’ll say, before the last form has to go down. ‘Train Robbery in Arizona, half a column,’ says the foreman. “‘Kill it,’ says the doctor. “‘Holman on Hard Money, column and a half,’ says the foreman. “‘Hold Holman for to-morrow,’ says the doctor. And he takes his blue pencil and slashes away at the proofs, making a line out of a stickful and a stickful out of a column, till he squeezes a little of everything into his seven columns. It’s a beautiful sight, and away goes the form on time. And so Darling is really the doctor’s assistant! You don’t know how glad I am for both pieces of news, Florrie.”