running to the coast. How does it strike you?"

"I'd like to, but I'm afraid that it would take my letters too long to
reach New Orleans; still, I don't know what difference that would
make, as I'm not going to write news. After all," he added, as though
he were arguing with himself, "I should think that the interior is
more interesting than the coast, for people don't hang their
characteristics over the coast line."

"There, you've hit the nail the very first lick. You go out there with
us, and I'll bet we have a magnificent time."

"But your uncle might object."

"How can he? It ain't any of his business where you go."

"Of course not."

"Well, then, that settles it. But really, he'd like to have you.
You'll like him; little peculiar at times, but you'll find him all
right. You'll get a good deal of money for those letters, won't you?"

"No; a hired mail on a newspaper doesn't get much money."

"But it must take a good deal of brains to do your work."

"Presumably, but there stands a long row of brains ready to take the
engagement--to take it, in fact, at a cut rate. The market is full of
brains."