n. Gradually his face lighted up
with pleasure.

"Admirably done!" he exclaimed. "You have carried out my wishes."

"Then you are satisfied, sir?"

"Entirely."

"I am very glad," said Chester, with an air of relief.

He felt now he could do all that was required of him, and, as the
contract would pay him two hundred dollars, this success to-night was
an important one.

"I won't ask you to do any more this evening, but I will give you some
work to do at home. I believe I agreed to pay you two dollars for each
sketch?"

"Yes, sir."

"Probably you are not over well provided with money, and I will pay you
as you go on. Or, rather, I will give you ten dollars as an advance for
future work."

"Thank you, sir. You are very kind."

"Only considerate. I have seen the time when a ten-dollar-bill would
have been welcome to me. Now, thanks to a wealthy relative, who left me
a fortune, I am amply provided for."

At this moment the study door opened and a bright-looking boy of about
fifteen entered.

"May I come in, uncle?" he asked, with a smile.

"Yes. Chester, this is my nephew, Arthur Burks. Arthur, this is Chester
Rand, a young artist, who is assisting me."

Arthur came forward and gave Chester his hand cordially.

"You ought to wear spectacles," he said, "like uncle Edgar. You don't
look dignified enough to be his assistant."

"That may come in time," said Chester, with a smile.

"Arthur, I am done with Chester for this evening," said the professor.
"You may carry him off and entertain him. You may bring me the other
two sketches whenever you are ready."

"Come up to my den," said Arthur. "I have the front room on the third
floor."

As they went upstairs, a prolonged, melancholy shriek rang through the
house.

Chester stopped short in dismay, and an expression of pain succeeded
the gay look on Arthur's face.

CHAPTER XVII.

CHESTER TAKES A LESSON IN BOXING.

"That is my poor, little cousin," explained Arthur.

"Is he sick or in pain?" asked Chester, in quick sympathy.

"He had a fever when he was three years old that left his mind a wreck.
He is now eight. The most eminent physicians have seen him, but there
seems little hope of his improvement or recovery."

"Does he suffer pain?"

"You ask on account of the shriek you heard. As far as we can tell, he
does not. The shriek comes, so the doctor tells us, from a nervous
spasm. He would have been a bright boy if he had kept his health.