d friend, and have a right to
remember you. Was Mr. Rand in the same office with you?"

"No; Chester is an artist."

"An artist! A boy like him!" ejaculated the Oregonian in surprise.

Chester smiled.

"I am getting older every day," he said.

"That's what's the matter with me," rejoined Mr. Wilson. "You haven't
any gray hair yet, while I have plenty."

"Not quite yet," smiled Chester.

"What kind of an artist are you?"

"I make drawings for an illustrated weekly. It is a comic paper."

"And perhaps you put your friends in occasionally?"

"Not friends exactly, but sometimes I sketch a face I meet in the
street."

"You may use me whenever you want a representative of the wild and
woolly West."

"Thank you, Mr. Wilson."

"But in that case you must send me a copy of the paper."

"I won't forget it."

"How long are you staying in New York, Mr. Wilson?" asked Edward.

"I go away to-morrow. You must spend the evening with me."

"I should like to do so. It seems good to see an old friend."

"By and by we will go to Delmonico's and have an ice cream. I suppose
you have been there?"

"No; office boys don't often patronize Delmonico. They are more likely
to go to Beefsteak John's."

"I never heard that name. Is it a fashionable place?"

"Yes, with those of small pocketbooks. It is a perfectly respectable
place, but people living on Fifth Avenue prefer the Brunswick or
Delmonico's."

Edward brightened up so much owing to the presence of a friend from his
distant home that Chester could hardly believe that it was the same boy
whom he had found but a short time before in the depths of despondency.

About nine o'clock they adjourned to Delmonico's and ordered ices and
cake.

"This seems a tiptop place," said the Oregonian, looking about him. "We
haven't got anything equal to it in Portland, but we may have sometime.
The Western people are progressive. We don't want to be at the tail end
of the procession. Mr. Rand, you ought to come out and see something of
the West, particularly of the Pacific coast. You may not feel an
interest in it at present, but----"

"I have more interest in it than you imagine, Mr. Wilson. I have some
property at Tacoma."

"You don't mean it! What kind of property?"

"I own five lots there."

"Then you are in luck. Lots in Tacoma are rising every day."

"But it wouldn't be well to sell at present, would it?"

"No; the railroad has only recently been completed, and the g