CHAPTER XXX.
LIGHTING SHIP.
Yes, the tide was coming in. The Richlings’ bark was still on the sands, but every now and then a wave of promise glided under her. She might float, now, any day. Meantime, as has no doubt been guessed, she was held on an even keel by loans from the Doctor.
“Why you don’t advertise in papers?” asked Ristofalo.
“Advertise? Oh, I didn’t think it would be of any use. I advertised a whole week, last summer.”
“You put advertisement in wrong time and keep it out wrong time,” said the Italian.
“I have a place in prospect, now, without advertising,” said Richling, with an elated look.
It was just here that a new mistake of Richling’s emerged. He had come into contact with two or three men of that wretched sort that indulge the strange vanity of keeping others waiting upon them by promises of employment. He believed them, liked them heartily because they said nothing about references, and gratefully distended himself with their husks, until Ristofalo opened his eyes by saying, when one of these men had disappointed Richling the third time:—
“Business man don’t promise but once.”
“You lookin’ for book-keeper’s place?” asked the Italian at another time. “Why don’t dress like a book-keeper?”