baked. Take it home to your ma. Maybe it'll come handy. I'll try to think of the other cent next time you come along."
"Don't trouble yourself about it, Miss Cleveland. The pie is worth a good deal more than the cent. Mother'll be very much obliged to you."
"She's very welcome, I'm sure," said the kindly spinster. "I hope you'll get work soon, Chester."
"Thank you."
Chester made his way homeward, as he did not care to carry the pie about with him. His mother looked at him in surprise as he entered the house.
"What have you there, Chester?" she asked.
"A pie from Miss Cleveland."
"But how came she to give you a pie?"
"I shoveled a path for her, and she gave me a pie and ten cents—no, nine. So you see, mother, I've earned something this week."
"I take it as a good omen. A willing hand will generally find work to do."
"How are you off for wood, mother?"
"There is some left, Chester."
"I'll go out in the yard and work at the wood pile till dinner time. Then this afternoon I will go out again and see if I can find some more paths to shovel."
But Chester was not destined to earn any more money that day. As a general thing, the village people shoveled their own paths, and would regard hiring such work done as sinful extravagance. Chester did, however, find some work to do. About half-past three he met Abel Wood tugging a large basket, filled with groceries, to the minister's house. He had set it down, and was resting his tired arms when Chester came along.
"Give me a lift with this basket, Chester, that's a good fellow," said Abel.
Chester lifted it.
"Yes, it is heavy," he said.
"The minister's got some company," went on Abel, "and he's given an extra large order."
"How do you like working in the store, Abel?"
"It's hard work, harder than I thought."
"But remember what a magnificent salary you will get," said Chester, with a smile.
"It ain't half enough. Say, Chester, old Tripp is rich, ain't he?"
"I should call myself rich if I had his money."
"He's a miserly old hunks, then, to give me such small pay."
"Don't let him hear you say so."
"I'll take care of that. Come, you'll help me, won't you?"
"Yes," answered Chester, good-naturedly; "I might as well, as I have nothing else to do."
Between the two the basket was easily carried. In a short time they had reached the minister's house. They took the basket around to the side door, just as Mr. Morris, the minister, came out, accompanied by a young man, who was evidently a stranger in the village, as Chester did not remember having seen him before.
"Chester," said the minister, kindly, "how does it happen that you have an assistant to-day?"
"I am the assistant, Mr. Morris. Abel is Mr. Tripp's new boy."
"Indeed, I am surprised to hear that. When did you leave the store?"
"Last Saturday night."
"Have you another place?"
"Not yet."
"Are you at leisure this afternoon?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then perhaps you will walk around with my friend, Mr. Conrad, and show him the village. I was going with him, but I have some writing to do, and you will do just as well."
"I shall be very happy to go with Mr. Conrad," said Chester, politely.
"And I shall be very glad to have you," said the young man, with a pleasant smile.
"Come back to supper, Chester," said the minister; "that is, if your mother can spare you."
"Thank you, sir. I suppose you will be able to carry back the empty basket, Abel," added Chester, as his successor emerged from the side door, relieved of his burden.
"I guess so," answered Abel, with a grin.
"I was never in Wyncombe before," began Mr. Conrad, "though I am a second cousin of your minister, Mr. Morris. I have to go away to-morrow morning, and wish to see a little of the town while I am here."
"Where do you live, Mr. Conrad?"
"In the city of New York."
"Are you a minister, too?"
"Oh, no!" laughed the young man. "I am in a very different business. I am an artist—in a small way. I make sketches for books and magazines."
"And does that pay?"
"Fairly well. I earn a comfortable living."
"I didn't know one could get money for making pictures. I like to draw, myself."
"I will see what you can do this evening; that is, if you accept my cousin's invitation."
Before the walk was over Chester had become much interested in his new friend. He listened eagerly to his stories of the great city, and felt that life must be much better worth living there than in Wyncombe.
CHAPTER III.
A NOTEWORTHY EVENING
Chester enjoyed his supper. Mr. Morris, though a minister, had none of the starched dignity that many of his profession think it necessary to assume. He was kindly and genial, with a pleasant humor that made him agreeable company for the young as well as the old. Mr. Conrad spoke much of New York and his experiences there, and Chester listened to him eagerly.
"You have never been to New York, Chester?" said the young artist.
"No, sir, but I have read about it—and dreamed about it. Sometime I hope to go there."
"I think that is the dream of every country boy. Well, it is the country boys that make the most successful men."
"How do you account for that, Herbert?" asked the minister.
"Generally they have been brought up to work, and work more earnestly than the city boys."
When the supper table was cleared, Mr. Conrad took from his valise two or three of the latest issues of Puck, Judge and Life. He handed them to Chester, who looked over them eagerly.
"Do you ever contribute to these papers, Mr. Conrad?" he asked.
"Yes; here is a sketch in Judge, and another in Life, which I furnished."
"And do you get good pay for them?"
"I received ten dollars for each."
Chester's
