“Your money holds out well, Chester,” he said, as he made change for a two-dollar bill.
“Yes, Mr. Tripp.”
“I can’t understand it, for my part. Your mother must be a good manager.”
“Yes, Mr. Tripp, she is.”
“You’d orter come back to work for me, Chester.”
“But you have got a boy already.”
“The Wood boy ain’t worth shucks. He ain’t got no push, and he’s allus forgettin’ his errands. If you’ll come next Monday I’ll pay you two dollars and a half a week. That’s pooty good for these times.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Tripp, but I am going to work somewhere else.”
“Where?” asked Silas, in great surprise.
“In New York,” answered Chester, proudly.