And, unless there was some word from Mary, nothing more would be said. So went the month of November. But at length, one day toward the close of the Doctor's office hours, he noticed the sound of an agile foot springing up his stairs three steps at a stride, and Richling entered, panting and radiant. "Doctor, at last! At last!" "At last, what?" "I've found employment! I have, indeed! One line from you, and the place is mine! A good place, Doctor, and one that I can fill. The very thing for me! Adapted to my abilities!" He laughed so that he coughed, was still, and laughed again. "Just a line, if you please, Doctor." CHAPTER XXXII. A RISING STAR. It had been many a day since Dr. Sevier had felt such pleasure as thrilled him when Richling, half beside himself with delight, ran in upon him with the news that he had found employment. Narcisse, too, was glad. He slipped down from his stool and came near enough to contribute his congratulatory smiles, though he did not venture to speak. Richling nodded him a happy how-d'ye-do, and the Creole replied by a wave of the hand. In the Doctor's manner, on the other hand, there was a decided lack of response that made Richling check his spirits and resume more slowly,-- "Do you know a man named Reisen?" "No," said the Doctor. "Why, he says he knows you." "That may be." "He says you treated his wife one night when she was very ill"-- "What name?" "Reisen." The Doctor reflected a moment. "I believe I recollect him. Is he away up on Benjamin street, close to the river, among the cotton-presses?" "Yes. Thalia street they call it now. He says"-- "Does he keep a large bakery?" interrupted the Doctor. "The 'Star Bakery,'" said Richling, brightening again. "He says he knows you, and that, if you will give me just one line of recommendation, he will put me in charge of his accounts and give me a trial. And a trial's all I want, Doctor. I'm not the least fearful of the result." "Richling," said Dr. Sevier, slowly picking up his paper-folder and shaking it argumentatively, "where are the letters I advised you to send for?" Richling sat perfectly still, taking a long, slow breath through his nostrils, his eyes fixed emptily on his questioner. He was thinking, away down at the bottom of his heart,--and the Doctor knew it,--that this was the unkindest question, and the most cold-blooded, that he had ever heard. The Doctor shook his paper-folder again. "You see, now, as to the bare fact, I don't know you." Richling's jaw dropped with astonishment. His eye lighted up resentfully. But the speaker went on:-- "I esteem you highly. I believe in you. I would trust you, Richling,"--his listener remembered how the speaker _had_ trusted him, and was melted,--"but as to recommending you, why, that is like going upon the witness-stand, as it were, and I cannot say that I know anything." Richling's face suddenly flashed full of light. He touched the Doctor's hand.