thing it was that money went to young fellows who seemed to have no
particular endowments of brain or energy. Harper was a very ordinary
young man, not over intelligent in appearance, who, Pratt had heard, was
often seen lounging about the one or two fashionable hotels of the
place. As for the daughter, Pratt did not remember having ever set eyes
on her--but he had heard that up to the time of John Mallathorpe's death
she had earned her own living as a governess, or a nurse, or something
of that sort.

He turned from thinking of these three people to thoughts about himself.
Pratt often thought about himself, and always in one direction--the
direction of self-advancement. He was always wanting to get on. He had
nobody to help him. He had kept himself since he was seventeen. His
father and mother were dead; he had no brothers or sisters--the only
relations he had, uncles and aunts, lived--some in London, some in
Canada. He was now twenty-eight, and earning four pounds a week. He had
immense confidence in himself, but he had never seen much chance of
escaping from drudgery. He had often thought of asking Eldrick & Pascoe
to give him his articles--but he had a shrewd idea that his request
would be refused. No--it was difficult to get out of a rut. And yet--he
was a clever fellow, a good-looking fellow, a sharp, shrewd, able--and
here was a chance, such a chance as scarcely ever comes to a man. He
would be a fool if he did not take it, and use it to his own best and
lasting advantage.

And so he locked up the will in a safe place, and went to bed, resolved
to take a bold step towards fortune on the morrow.