for him. It was his first appearance in a paper, and
it was a proud moment for him.

"What are you looking at so intently, my son?" asked the gentleman who
sat at his side. He was a man of perhaps middle age, and he wore
spectacles, which gave him a literary aspect.

"I--I am looking at this sketch," answered Chester, in slight
confusion.

"Let me see it."

Chester handed over the paper and regarded his seat mate with some
anxiety. He wanted to see what impression this, his maiden effort,
would have on a staid man of middle age.

"Ha! very good!" said his companion, "but I don't see anything very
remarkable about it. Yet you were looking at it for as much as five
minutes."

"Because it is mine," said Chester, half proudly, half in
embarrassment.

"Ah! that is different. Did you really design it?"

"Yes, sir."

"I suppose you got pay for it. I understand _Puck_ pays for everything
it publishes."

"Yes, sir; I got ten dollars."

"Ten dollars!" repeated the gentleman, in surprise. "Really that is
very handsome. Do you often produce such sketches?"

"I have just begun, sir. That is the first I have had published."

"You are beginning young. How old are you?"

"I am almost sixteen."

"That is young for an artist. Why, I am forty-five, and I haven't a
particle of talent in that direction. My youngest son asked me the
other day to draw a cow on the slate. I did as well as I could, and
what do you think he said?"

"What did he say?" asked Chester, interested.

"He said, 'Papa, if it wasn't for the horns I should think it was a
horse.'"

Chester laughed. It was a joke he could appreciate.

"I suppose all cannot draw," he said.

"It seems not. May I ask you if you live in New York--the city, I
mean?"

"No, sir."

"But you are going there?"

"Yes, sir."

"To live?"

"I hope so. A friend has written advising me to come. He says I will be
better placed to do art work, and dispose of my sketches."

"Are you expecting to earn your living that way?"

"I hope to some time, but not at first."

"I am glad to hear it. I should think you would find it very
precarious."

"I expect to work in a real estate office at five dollars a week, and
only to spend my leisure hours in art work."

"That seems sensible. Have you been living in the country?"

"Yes, sir, in Wyncombe."

"I have heard of the place, but was never there. So you are just
beginning the battle of life?"

"Yes, sir."

"It has just