Matters were at this point, when on the morning of the thirteenth day Richard noticed the cadaverous face of a man peering into the yard through the slats of the main gate. Richard sauntered down there, with his hands in his pockets. The man was old Giles, and with him stood Lumley and Peterson, gazing thoughtfully at the sign outside,--
NO ADMITTANCE EXCEPT ON BUSINESS.
The roughly lettered clapboard, which they had heedlessly passed a thousand times, seemed to have taken a novel significance to them.
Richard. What's wanted there?
Giles. [Very affably.] We was lookin' round for a job, Mr. Shackford.
Richard. We are not taking on any hands at present.
Giles. Didn't know but you was. Somebody said you was.
Richard. Somebody is mistaken.
Giles. P'rhaps to-morrow, or nex' day?
Richard. Rather doubtful, Giles.