Dick soon took possession of the little parlor and turned it into a workshop and kept his pen going till, as he said, it grew hot and he had to stop to let it cool. It was always a pen with him when he had a proper place to write, not a pencil; pencil copy looked too sloppy, he thought, and he did not like sloppy copy. He made it a rule to turn in every article ready for the printers--heading on, subheads in their proper places, every page edited, even the type marks put on. This habit did him many a good turn in after years. When Darling came home that night Dick was still writing, but he stopped to help eat the late supper that always waited on the table. “I hear great news of you, Darling!” he shouted as soon as Darling came in; “shake, old man.” “Thank you,” Darling said without any embarrassment as he grasped Dick’s hand. “Then they’ve told you, have they? Well, Dick, I don’t wonder you’re a good fellow, to have such a sister.” “Oh, put it the other way about,” Dick laughed; “that you don’t wonder she’s so good because she has such a brother.” “I have some more news for you, too,” Darling went on as they attacked the supper. “Dr. Goode just told me to-night. The old man is going to send you on a trip down the Mississippi into the Southwest as soon as you have finished your Porto Rico stuff; and do you know I’m more than half-sorry, Dick.” “Well, I don’t know.” He was hardly certain whether to feel sorry or glad. “I’ve got to be doing something, and I suppose I might as well be in the Southwest as anywhere.” “Yes, as well there as anywhere, if you are away from home. But I’d rather have you at home, Dick, for several reasons. This sort of thing can’t go on always, you know, making these long trips; it never does, at any rate. A man makes a half-dozen or a dozen of them, and then they tire of his style or he tires of the traveling or for some other reason it comes to an end. You are making hay while the sun shines I’ll admit, but I’d like to see you begin to do something better, something more permanent.” “Where do I have the time?” Dick interrupted. “I have hardly a minute to myself.” “That’s just it,” Darling went on. “You have no time to yourself at all. Your Transport articles are copied everywhere, your syndicate articles have gone all over the country, and your Illustrated Weekly story was tip top; everybody said so. Indeed, for such a young fellow you have made yourself quite famous already--in a newspaper way. But after all, Dick, I’m more than half-inclined to think you would be better off if you were doing ordinary city work. Then you would have time to lay the foundation for better things.” “I may be doing that now,” Dick replied. “Don’t you see, Darling, this sort of work is my only chance to sign my articles. I couldn’t sign a report of a fire in Canal Street, you know, or the flight of a bank cashier or any other city news.”