occurred to me that I may be able to throw some work in
your way. I am writing an ethnological work, and it will need to be
illustrated. I can't afford to pay such prices as you receive from
_Puck_ and other periodicals of the same class, but then the work will
not be original. It will consist chiefly of copies. I should think I
might need a hundred illustrations, and I am afraid I could not pay
more than two dollars each."

A hundred illustrations at two dollars each! Why, that would amount to
two hundred dollars, and there would be no racking his brains for
original ideas.

"If you think I can do the work, sir, I shall be glad to undertake it,"
said Chester, eagerly.

"I have no doubt you can do it, for it will not require an expert.
Suppose you call upon me some evening within a week."

"I will do so gladly, sir, if you will tell me where you live."

"Here is my card," said his companion, drawing out his case, and
handing a card to Chester.

This was what Chester read:

"Prof. Edgar Hazlitt."

"Do you know where Lexington Avenue is?" asked the professor.

"I know very little about New York. In fact, nothing at all," Chester
was obliged to confess.

"You will soon find your way about. I have no doubt you will find me,"
and the professor mentioned the number. "Shall we say next Wednesday
evening, at eight o'clock sharp? That's if you have no engagement for
that evening," he added, with a smile.

Chester laughed at the idea of his having any evening engagements in a
city which he had not seen for eight years.

"If you are engaged to dine with William Vanderbilt or Jay Gould on
that evening," continued the professor, with a merry look, "I will say
Thursday."

"If I find I am engaged in either place, I think I can get off," said
Chester.

"Then Wednesday evening let it be!"

As the train neared New York Chester began to be solicitous about
finding Mr. Conrad in waiting for him. He knew nothing about the city,
and would feel quite helpless should the artist not be present to meet
him. He left the car and walked slowly along the platform, looking
eagerly on all sides for the expected friendly face.

But nowhere could he see Herbert Conrad.

In some agitation he took from his pocket the card containing his
friend's address, and he could hardly help inwardly reproaching him for
leaving an inexperienced boy in the lurch. He was already beginning to
feel homesick and forlorn, when a bright-looking lad of