“To go to New York?”
“Yes.”
Mrs. Rand’s countenance fell.
“I don’t see how I can spare you, Chester,” she said, soberly.
“If there were any chance of making a living in Wyncombe, it would be different.”
“You might go back to Mr. Tripp’s store.”
“After he had charged me with stealing? No, mother, I will never serve Silas Tripp again.”
“There might be some other chance.”
“But there isn’t, mother. By the way, I heard at the post office that the shoe manufactory will open again in three weeks.”
“That’s good news. I shall have some more binding to do.”