“Where?”
“At Farmer Dexter’s.”
“Don’t you go! I worked for him once.”
“How did you like it?”
“It almost killed me. I had to get up at half-past four, work till seven in the evening, and all for a dollar a week and board.”
“Was the board good?” inquired Chester, curiously.
“It was the poorest livin’ I ever had. Mrs. Dexter don’t know much about cookin’. We had baked beans for dinner three times a week, because they were cheap, and what was left was put on for breakfast the next mornin’.”
“I like baked beans.”
“You wouldn’t like them as Mrs. Dexter cooked them, and you wouldn’t want them for six meals a week.”
“No, I don’t think I should,” said Chester, smiling. “How do you get along with Silas Tripp?”