“I don’t know yet,” answered Chester, sadly.
“It’s awful hard to get a place in Wyncombe.”
“I suppose it is. I hope something will turn up.”
He tried to speak hopefully, but there was very little hope in his heart.
He went about his work in a mechanical way, but neglected nothing. When the time came for the store to close, Silas Tripp took three dollars from the drawer and handed it to him, saying: “There’s your wages, Chester. I expect it’s the last I’ll pay you.”
“Yes, sir, I suppose so.”
“I don’t know how I’ll like the Wood boy. He hain’t no experience.”
“He’ll get it, sir.”
“If you want to stay for two and a quarter—the same I’m going to give him—I’ll tell him I’ve changed my mind.”
“No, sir; it wouldn’t be right to put him off now. I guess I’ll get something else to do.”