Last Saturday
night me and my little Emma here, we sold 7 pounds worth of whelks
between eight and half past eleven o'clock--and almost all in penn'orths
and twopenn'orths--a few, hap'orths, but not many. It was the steam that
did it. We kept a-boiling of 'em hot and hot, and whenever the steam
came strong up from the cellar on to the pavement, the people bought, but
whenever the steam went down they left off buying; so we boiled them over
and over again till they was all sold. That's just where it is; if you
know your business you can sell, if you don't you'll soon make a mess of
it. Why, but for the steam, I should not have sold 10s. worth of whelks
all the night through."
This, and many another yarn of kindred substance which he heard from
other people determined Ernest more than ever to stake on tailoring as
the one trade about which he knew anything at all, nevertheless, here
were three or four days gone by and employment seemed as far off as ever.
I now did what I ought to have done before, that is to say, I called on
my own tailor whom I had dealt with for over a quarter of a century and
asked his advice. He declared Ernest's plan to be hopeless.
Pages:
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528