“I wish one would drop down my chimney. But I must be gettin’ along, or old Tripp will give me hail Columbia when I get back.”
About nine o’clock that evening, as Chester was returning from a lecture in the church, he was accosted by a rough-looking fellow having very much the appearance of a tramp, who seemed somewhat under the influence of liquor.
“I say, boss,” said the tramp, “can’t you give a poor man a quarter to help him along?”
“Are you out of work?” asked Chester, staying his step.
“Yes; times is hard and work is scarce. I haven’t earned anything for a month.”
“Where do you come from?”
“From Pittsburg,” answered the tramp, with some hesitation.
“What do you work at when you are employed?”
“I am a machinist. Is there any chance in that line here?”
“Not in Wyncombe.”