u along," answered Silas,
cautiously.

"How much would you be willing to give?" put in Chester.

"Well, I calculate--real estate's very low at present--three hundred
and fifty dollars would be a fair price."

Mrs. Rand looked amazed.

"Three hundred and fifty dollars!" she ejaculated. "Why, it is worth at
least seven hundred."

"You couldn't get it, ma'am. That's a fancy price."

"What rent would you charge in case we sold it to you, Mr. Tripp,"
asked Chester.

"Well, say five dollars a month."

"About sixteen or seventeen per cent. on the purchase money."

"Well, I'd have to pay taxes and repairs," explained Tripp.

"I don't care to sell, Mr. Tripp," said Mrs. Rand, decisively.

"You may have to, ma'am."

"If we do we shall try to get somewhere near its real value."

"Just as you like, ma'am," said Silas, disappointed. "I'd pay you cash
down."

"If I decide to sell on your terms I'll let you know," said Mrs. Rand.

"Oh, well, I ain't set upon it. I only wanted to do you a favor."

"We appreciate your kindness," said Mrs. Rand, dryly.

"Women don't know much about business," muttered Silas, as he plodded
home, disappointed.

CHAPTER VI.

ROBERT RAMSAY.

Mrs. Rand was as much amazed as Chester himself at his success as an
artist.

"How long were you in making the drawing?" she asked.

"Twenty minutes."

"And you received ten dollars. It doesn't seem possible."

"I wish I could work twenty minutes every week at that rate," laughed
Chester. "It would pay me better than working for Silas Tripp."

"Perhaps you can get some more work of the same kind?"

"I shall send two more sketches to Mr. Conrad in a day or two. I shall
take pains and do my best."

Two days later Chester sent on the sketches, and then set about trying
to find a job of some kind in the village. He heard of only one.

An elderly farmer, Job Dexter, offered him a dollar a week and board if
he would work for him. He would have eight cows to milk morning and
night, the care of the barn, and a multitude of "chores" to attend to.

"How much will you give me if I board at home, Mr. Dexter?" asked
Chester.

"I must have you in the house. I can't have you trapesing home when you
ought to be at work."

"Then I don't think I can come, Mr. Dexter. A dollar a week wouldn't
pay me."

"A dollar a week and board is good pay for a boy," said the farmer.

"It may be for some boys, but not for me."

Chester reflected that