Two days later Chester found another letter from Mr. Conrad at the post office. In it were two bills—a ten and a five.
Mr. Conrad wrote:
“I have disposed of your two sketches to the same paper. The publisher offered me fifteen dollars for the two, and I thought it best to accept. Have you ever thought of coming to New York to live? You would be more favorably placed for disposing of your sketches, and would find more subjects in a large city than in a small village. The fear is that, if you continue to live in Wyncombe, you will exhaust your invention.
“There is one objection, the precarious nature of the business. You might sometimes go a month, perhaps, without selling a sketch, and meanwhile your expenses would go on. I think, however, that I have found a way of obviating this objection. I have a friend—Mr. Bushnell—who is in the real estate business, and he will take you into his office on my recommendation. He will pay you five dollars a week if he finds you satisfactory. This will afford you a steady income, which you can supplement by your art work. If you decide to accept my suggestion come to New York next Saturday, and you can stay with me over Sunday, and go to work on Monday morning.
“Your sincere friend,
“Herbert Conrad.”
Chester read this letter in a tumult of excitement. The great city had always had a fascination for him, and he had hoped, without much expectation of the hope being realized, that he might one day find employment there. Now the opportunity had come, but could he accept it? The question arose, How would his mother get along in his absence? She would be almost entirely without income. Could he send her enough from the city to help her along?
He went to his mother and showed her the letter.
“Fifteen dollars!” she exclaimed. “Why, that is fine, Chester. I shall begin to be proud of you. Indeed, I am proud of you now.”
“I can hardly realize it myself, mother. I won’t get too much elated, for it may not last. What do you think of Mr. Conrad’s proposal?”