“This picture—is one of mine.”
“You don’t mean it!” exclaimed the man from Minneapolis, dropping his pen in surprise. “I thought you were an office boy.”
“So I am, sir, but—sometimes I sell sketches to the illustrated papers.”
“What did you get for this?”
“Seven dollars and a half. That is, I sold this and another for fifteen dollars.”
“By the great horn spoon! but this is wonderful.”
Chester did not feel called upon to say anything.
“How long did it take you to draw this picture?”
“A little over half an hour.”
“Jerusalem! that is at the rate of ten dollars an hour. I am contented to make ten dollars a day.”