tter worth living there than in Wyncombe.

CHAPTER III.

A NOTEWORTHY EVENING.

Chester enjoyed his supper. Mr. Morris, though a minister, had none of
the starched dignity that many of his profession think it necessary to
assume. He was kindly and genial, with a pleasant humor that made him
agreeable company for the young as well as the old. Mr. Conrad spoke
much of New York and his experiences there, and Chester listened to him
eagerly.

"You have never been to New York, Chester?" said the young artist.

"No, sir, but I have read about it--and dreamed about it. Sometime I
hope to go there."

"I think that is the dream of every country boy. Well, it is the
country boys that make the most successful men."

"How do you account for that, Herbert?" asked the minister.

"Generally they have been brought up to work, and work more earnestly
than the city boys."

When the supper table was cleared, Mr. Conrad took from his valise two
or three of the latest issues of _Puck_, _Judge_ and _Life_. He handed
them to Chester, who looked over them eagerly.

"Do you ever contribute to these papers, Mr. Conrad?" he asked.

"Yes; here is a sketch in _Judge_, and another in _Life_, which I
furnished."

"And do you get good pay for them?"

"I received ten dollars for each."

Chester's eyes opened with surprise.

"Why," he said, "they are small. It couldn't have taken you long to
draw them."

"Probably half an hour for each one."

"And you received ten dollars each?"

"Yes, but don't gauge such work by the time it takes. It is the idea
that is of value. The execution is a minor matter."

Chester looked thoughtful.

"I should like to be an artist," he said, after a pause.

"Won't you give me a specimen of your work? You have seen mine."

"I have not done any comic work, but I think I could."

"Here is a piece of drawing paper. Now, let me see what you can do."

Chester leaned his head on his hand and began to think. He was in
search of an idea. The young artist watched him with interest. At last
his face brightened up. He seized the pencil, and began to draw
rapidly. In twenty minutes he handed the paper to Mr. Conrad.

The latter looked at it in amazement.

"Why, you are an artist," he said. "I had no idea you were capable of
such work."

"I am glad you like it," said Chester, much pleased.

"How long have you been drawing?"

"Ever since I can remember. I used to make pictures in school on my
sl