“Oh, no! I go back to work next week.”
“How much pay do you get?”
“Thirty dollars a week.”
“Don’t try to fool me!” said Silas, with asperity. “It ain’t creditable to deceive a man old enough to be your grandfather.”
Chester smiled.
“Do you want me to bring an affidavit from my employers?” he asked.
“But it’s ridiculous, payin’ a boy such wages!” objected Silas.
“It would be foolish for you to pay it, Mr. Tripp; but they think me worth it.”
“What sort of work do you do?”
“I make pictures. I will show you a couple,” and Chester produced a copy of The Phœnix.