CHESTER MEETS ANOTHER ARTIST.
“Where do you wish me to work?” asked Chester, after a pause.
“You can work at home, but you can call at the office every day to leave your work and receive instructions.”
“All right, sir. When do you wish me to commence?”
“At once. Have you any work ready? I asked because we want to get out the first number as soon as possible.”
“I have one sketch and have several ideas jotted down.”
“Good! Deliver as much as possible to-morrow.”
Chester returned home in a high state of exultation. He would be paid less for individual sketches, but, on the other hand, he would have a steady income and an assured market for all he might produce. It seemed a wonderful promotion from five dollars a week to twenty-five. To be sure, when in the real estate office he had picked up extra compensation for outside work, but this was precarious and could not be depended on. With twenty-five dollars a week he would feel rich. This set him to considering that he must have a better room if he was to do work at home. In the same house where he now occupied a hall bedroom was a large, square room well lighted with two windows, well furnished and having a good writing desk, left by some previous tenant in part payment of arrears of rent, which he could have for five dollars a week. He had often thought he would like to occupy it, and wished he might find an agreeable roommate who would share the expense with him. Now he felt that he could bear the expense alone. He lost no time in securing it and moving his few belongings in.
Mrs. Crosby, his landlady, was rather surprised.
“You must be doing well,” she said.