To his mother Dick quickly related his new good fortune. Mrs.
Prescott's face and words both expressed her pleasure.

"At first, mother, I didn't think of anything but pocket money,"
Dick admitted. "Then my head got to work a bit. It has struck
me that if I can make a little money each week by writing for
'The Blade,' I can pay you at least a bit of the money that you
and Dad have to spend to keep me going."

"I am glad you thought of that," replied Mrs. Prescott, patting
her boy's hand. "But we shan't look to you to do anything of
the sort. Your father and I are not rich, but we have managed
all along to keep you going, and I think we can do it for a while
longer. Whatever money you can earn, Richard, must be your own.
We shall take none of it. But I trust you will learn how to
handle your own money wisely. _That_ is one of the most valuable
lessons to be learned in life."

To his chums, when he saw them later in the afternoon, Dick said
nothing of Mr. Pollock's request. The young soph thought it better
to wait a while, and see how he got along at amateur reporting
before he let anyone else into the secret.

But late that afternoon Dick ran into a matter of interest and
took it to "The Blade" office.

"That's all right," nodded Mr. Pollock, after looking over Dick's
"copy." "Glad to see you have started in, my boy. Now, I won't
pay you for this on the nail. Wait until Saturday morning, cutting
all that you have printed out of the 'The Blade.' Paste all the