"I doubt that, Walt. Professor Hartzenbosch may be an old maid in trousers, but he's really a very sound scholar. But I wasn't thinking about that. I was thinking about your going to Terra to school."
"Huh?" I forgot to eat, for a moment. "Let's stop kidding."
"I didn't start kidding; I meant it."
"Well, think again, Dad. It costs money to go to school on Terra. It even costs money to go to Terra."
"We have a little money, Walt. Maybe more than you think we do. And with things getting better, we'll lease more teleprinters and get more advertising. You're likely to get better than the price of your passage out of that story we're sending off on the Bolivar, and that won't be the end of it, either. Fenris is going to be in the news for a while. You may make some more money writing. That's why I was careful to give you the by-line on that Gerrit story." His pipe had gone out again; he took time out to relight it, and then added: "Anything I spend on this is an investment. The Times will get it back."
"Yes, that's another thing; the paper," I said. "If you're going to be mayor, you won't be able to do everything you're doing on the paper now, and then do all my work too."
"Well, shocking as the idea may be, I think we can find somebody to replace you."
"Name one," I challenged.
"Well, Lillian Arnaz, at the Library, has always been interested in newspaper work," he began.
"A girl!" I hooted. "You have any idea of some of the places I have to go to get stories?"