As they went downstairs, Chester observed, “I will ask you as a favor, Mr. Perkins, not to refer to my work in Puck, as it is not known at the office that I do any work outside.”
“All right, my boy. By the way, how much do they pay you at the office?”
“Five dollars a week.”
“Evidently it isn’t as good a business as drawing.”
“No, sir; but it is more reliable. I can’t always satisfy the comic papers, and I am likely to have sketches left on my hands.”
“Yes; that is a practical way of looking at it, and shows that you are a boy of sense. What sort of a man is Mr. Fairchild?”
“A very kind, considerate man, but I forgot to say that you won’t see him.”
“But I thought he sent you to call on me?”
“No, sir; Mr. Fairchild started for the West this morning. It was Mr. Mullins, the bookkeeper, who sent me.”
“That complicates the mystery. Is he a good friend of yours?”