Mordaunt looked at the straight young figure brimming with activity, and
decided that the more work this boy had to do the better it would be for
him morally and physically.

"Keeps you in training," he suggested.

"Oh, I don't know. One is apt to get unconscionably slack. It's a fool of
a world. The work is all wrongly distributed; some fellows have to work
like niggers and others that want to work never get a look in." Rupert
broke off to laugh. "I'm a discontented beggar, I tell you frankly," he
said. "But I don't expect any sympathy from you, because, being what you
are, you wouldn't reasonably be expected to understand."

"My good fellow, I haven't always been prosperous," Mordaunt assured him.
"I've had luck, I admit. It comes to most of us in some form if we are
only sharp enough to recognize it. Perhaps it hasn't come your way yet."

"I'll be shot if it has!" said Rupert.

"But it will," Mordaunt maintained, "sooner or later."

"Oh, do you believe in luck?" broke in Chris eagerly. "Because there's
the new moon coming up over the trees, and I've just seen it through
glass. Don't look, Trevor, for goodness' sake! No, no, you shan't! Shut
your eyes while I open the window. You shall see it from the balcony."

She sprang to the window, and Mordaunt followed with an indulgent smile.

Rupert scoffed openly. "Chris is mad on charms of every description. If