“And you have never considered, then,” said Francisco, “that all these people will, one after another, find you out in time?”
“Ay, in time; but it will be some time first. There are a great many of them, enough to last me all the summer, if I lose a customer a day,” said Piedro.
“And next summer,” observed Francisco, “what will you do?”
“Next summer is not come yet; there is time enough to think what I shall do before next summer comes. Why, now, suppose the blockheads, after they had been taken in and found it out, all joined against me, and would buy none of our fish—what then? Are there no trades but that of a fisherman? In Naples, are there not a hundred ways of making money for a smart lad like me? as my father says. What do you think of turning merchant, and selling sugar-plums and cakes to the children in their market? Would they be hard to deal with, think you?”
“I think not,” said Francisco; “but I think the children would find out in time if they were cheated, and would like it as little as the men.”
“I don’t doubt them. Then in time I could, you know, change my trade—sell chips and sticks in the wood-market—hand about the lemonade to the fine folks, or twenty other things. There are trades enough, boy.”
“Yes, for the honest dealer,” said Francisco, “but for no other; for in all of them you’ll find, as my father says, that a good character is the best fortune to set up with. Change your trade ever so often, you’ll be found out for what you are at last.”
“And what am I, pray?” said Piedro, angrily. “The whole truth of the matter is, Francisco, that you envy my good luck, and can’t bear to hear this money jingle in my hand. Ay, stroke the long ears of your ass, and look as wise as you please. It’s better to be lucky than wise, as my father says. Good morning to you. When I am found out for what I am, or when the worst comes to the worst, I can drive a stupid ass, with his panniers filled with rubbish, as well as you do now, honest Francisco.”
“Not quite so well. Unless you were honest Francisco, you would not fill his panniers quite so readily.”.
This was certain, that Francisco was so well known for his honesty amongst all the people at Naples with whom his father was acquainted, that everyone was glad to deal with him; and as he never wronged anyone, all were willing to serve him—at least, as much as they could without loss to themselves: so that after the market was over, his panniers were regularly filled by the gardeners and others with whatever he wanted. His industry was constant, his gains small but certain, and he every day had more and more reason to trust to his father’s maxim—That honesty is the best policy.