Stop. What sound was that?
“Richling! Richling!”
Richling, walking in a commercial street, turned. A member of the firm that had last employed him beckoned him to halt.
“What are you doing now, Richling? Still acting deputy assistant city surveyor pro tem.?”
“Yes.”
“Well, see here! Why haven’t you been in the store to see us lately? Did I seem a little preoccupied the last time you called?”
“I”—Richling dropped his eyes with an embarrassed smile—“I was afraid I was in the way—or should be.”
“Well and suppose you were? A man that’s looking for work must put himself in the way. But come with me. I think I may be able to give you a lift.”
“How’s that?” asked Richling, as they started off abreast.
“There’s a house around the corner here that will give you some work,—temporary anyhow, and may be permanent.”