“Editors of the Phœnix.”
Chester was quite exhilarated by this letter. He felt that it was a proof of his growing popularity as an artist, and this was particularly gratifying. Besides, his income would be largely, at any rate considerably, increased. He lost no time in presenting himself at the office of The Phœnix.
It was located in a large office building on Nassau Street. He took the elevator and went upstairs to the sixth floor. On the door of a room a little way from the elevator he saw the name, and knocked.
“Come in!” was the response.
Chester opened the door and found himself in the presence of a man of about forty, with a profusion of brown hair shading a pleasant countenance. He looked up inquiringly as Chester entered.
“Is this the editor of The Phœnix?” inquired Chester, respectfully.
“The Phœnix will have no existence till next week,” answered the other, pleasantly. “I expect to be its editor.”
“I came in answer to your letter.”
“To my letter?” repeated the editor, puzzled.
“Yes; my name is Chester Rand.”