o say that I shall be a considerable part of the time in my room. That
is why I want a larger one."

"But when will you work?" asked the landlady, puzzled.

"I shall work in my room."

"But what work can you do there?"

"I am an artist; that is, I am to make drawings for a new magazine."

"You don't say so? Will that pay?"

"Very handsomely."

"I hope you will show me some of them. I never met an artist before."

"I am afraid I am not much of an artist. I can show you one of my
pictures now."

Chester took from the table a number of _Puck_ and pointed out a
sketch.

"That's pretty good," said the landlady. "You wouldn't get more than
thirty-five cents for such a picture, would you?"

"I was paid five dollars for that."

"Do tell!" exclaimed Mrs. Crosby, who was brought up in a country town
and still used some of the expressions which were familiar to her in
early days. "I can't hardly believe it. It seems foolish to pay so much
for such a little thing."

"I don't think it foolish, Mrs. Crosby. It must pay them, or they
wouldn't keep on doing it."

Chester moved into his new room and enjoyed his ample accommodations
very much. The next day he went to the office of _The Phoenix_ and
carried in two sketches. They were fortunate enough to win the approval
of the editor.

"I see you are practical and understand what we want, Mr. Rand," he
said. Just behind Chester was a man of fifty, rather shabby and
neglectful in his personal appearance. He might be described as an
artist going to seed. Whatever talent he might have had originally had
been dulled and obscured by chronic intemperance.

"Excuse me, sir," he said, deferentially, "but I would like to submit a
couple of sketches. I am Guy Radcliff."

"Glad to see you, Mr. Radcliff. Let me examine them."

"I am afraid," said the editor, after a brief examination, "that these
are not quite what we want."

"Is it possible?" exclaimed Mr. Radcliff, indignantly. "You scorn my
work, yet accept the sketches of that boy!" pointing at Chester with
withering contempt.

"Because he has given me what I want."

"I was a famous artist before he was born."

"Very likely, and had done good work. But this is not good work."

"Sir!"

"My dear sir, don't be offended. I don't care for the age of any of my
contributors. I know something of your famous successes, and I hope
next time to approve and buy what you bring me."

Mr. Radcliff seemed only half propitiated.