life."

"Wouldn't you like to be a newspaper man for good?" demanded Dave.

"Not on a small-fry paper, anyway" replied Prescott. "Why, Bradley
is news editor, and has been in the business for years. He gets
about thirty dollars a week. I don't believe Pollock, who has
charge of the paper, gets more than forty-five. That isn't return
enough for a man who is putting in his whole life at the business."

"Thirty dollars has the sound of pretty large money," mused Dave.
"As for forty-five, if that's what Mr. Pollock gets, look at the
comfort he lives in at his club; and he's a real estate owner, too."

"Yes," Dick admitted. "But that's because Pollock follows two
callings. He's an editor and a dealer in real estate. As for
me, I'd rather put all my energies into one line of work."

"Then you believe you're going to earn more money than Pollock
does?" questioned Dave, rather wonderingly.

"If I pick out a career for income," Dick responded, "I do intend
to go in for larger returns. But I may go into another calling
where the pay doesn't so much matter."

"Such as what?"

"Dave, old fellow, can you keep a secret?"

"Bosh! You know I can."