“How much will you give me if I board at home, Mr. Dexter?” asked Chester.
“I must have you in the house. I can’t have you trapesing home when you ought to be at work.”
“Then I don’t think I can come, Mr. Dexter. A dollar a week wouldn’t pay me.”
“A dollar a week and board is good pay for a boy,” said the farmer.
“It may be for some boys, but not for me.”
Chester reflected that if he worked all day at the farmer’s he could not do any artistic work, and so would lose much more than he made. The sketch sold by Mr. Conrad brought him in as much as he would receive in ten weeks from Farmer Dexter.
“Wyncombe people don’t seem very liberal, mother,” said Chester. “I thought Mr. Tripp pretty close, but Job Dexter beats him.”
In the meantime he met Abel Wood carrying groceries to a family in the village.
“Have you got a place yet, Chester?” he asked.
“No; but I have a chance of one.”