‘There’s a deal of studying required, it seems to me,’ propounded his eccentric mentor, ‘and a deal of experience, and knocking about, and loss of time and money, too, before a man comes to see the _right thing at the right time_. That’s where the hardship all lies. If the thing’s right and the time’s wrong, _that’s_ no good. And the right time and the wrong thing is worse again. What you’ve been a-doin’ of ain’t so much wrong in itself—only the time’s wrong, that’s where your mistake is,—except things take a great start soon; and I don’t say they won’t, mind you.‘ Here Mr. Levison looked at Ernest with an expression half humorous, half prophetic, so extremely unusual that the latter began to wonder whether there was any case on record of half a dozen cups of tea having produced temporary insanity. But the unaccustomed gleam departed suddenly from the dark, steadfast gray eyes, and the countenance resumed its wonted cast of calm investigation and unalterable decision. ‘Does old Frankston ever give you a dressing down in the advice line?’ inquired Mr. Levison, without continuing the development of the idea he had last started. ‘Because if he does, you’d have a bad time of it between us. But I’ve done all the preaching part of the story for this time, and I’m a-going on to the second chapter. Do you know the friend’s name as I bought these Freeman chaps out for?’ ‘No,’ said Ernest. ‘I shall be happy to afford him all the assistance I can—that is, if I’m here, you know,’ he added, with sudden reflection. ‘That’s all right; but he’s a youngish chap, and easy had. Will you promise to advise him to live economically, mind his business till times improve, and not waste his money, above all things? Tell him I said so.’ ‘I don’t think I am the best adviser you could pick in that way,’ said Ernest. ‘I am too sensible of my own defects; but I will deliver your message and add my feeble weight to the influence of your name.’ ‘That’s all right, and handsomely said. Now, my friend’s name is Ernest Neuchamp! I’ve bought the land and the cattle for him. They’re cheap enough if he never pays me for them, but I believe he will, and that those Freeman chaps will be biting their fingers at letting theirselves go so cheap this time next year. But, mind you tell him not to waste his money. Tell him Levison said so. Ha, ha! I must start now.’ Mr. Levison laughed for the first time since Ernest had made his acquaintance. It must have been the sight of Ernest’s wonder-stricken face which caused this unprecedented though brief incongruity. ‘I can never sufficiently thank you,’ he said; ‘but where’s the money to come from? The station will never pay it.’