The little man went on: “Why, they even buy two calf-skins of wine in the autumn when they have money, and that lasts the family through the winter. Not even an Englishman could do trade here.”
“Well,” I said, “what I meant was, soon the summer will be here, and crowds of Georgians and Armenians, Russians and Persians will be on the road. Now, this being the first shop in the village, it stands best chance. But why does our friend call the inn a drapery establishment, and fill his window with oil-lamps and cheese?”
The shopkeeper smiled with pride, and pointed out that he was the only draper and lamp-seller in the village. Whereupon I went on instructing him.
“If you are the only draper, then everyone in the village knows that fact, and there is no need to paint it up as your sign. But travellers don’t want to buy drapery or lamps. What you need to do is to write up in big letters,
INN
VARIOUS DRINKS
WINE
SAMOVAR READY
HOT SOUP.
Then you’d make more than threepence a day. You ought to try and get Russian visitors here: have some rooms that could be let as lodgings, talk about the ozone in the air and the springs in the rocks.”