legitimately his. Luck comes late to some men; to others, never.
It had come late to him, yet in the nick of time, as a godsend.
His family and the Old Doctor's had intermarried, back along, quite
in the old days; or so he had heard. . . . Nicky-Nan knew nothing of
any law about treasure-trove. Wealth arrived to men as it befell or
as they deserved; and, any way, "findings was keepings." His notion
of other folks' concern in this money reached no further than a vague
fear of folks in general--that they might rob him or deprive him of
it in some way. He must go to work cautiously.

Thus out of despair Fortune lifted him and began to install him in
fear.

He must go to work _very_ cautiously. Being all unused to the
possession of money, but accustomed to consider it as a weapon of
which fortunate men obtained a hold to employ it in "besting" others
less fortunate, he foresaw endless calls upon his cunning. But this
did not forbid his indulging in visions in which--being also at
bottom good-natured--he pictured himself as playing the good genius
in his native town, earning general gratitude, building in a
large-handed way the new pier that was so badly needed, conferring
favours right and left, departing this life amid the mourning of the
township, perchance (who could tell?) surviving for the wonder of
generations to come in a carved statue at the Quay-head. He had
observed, in the ports he had visited abroad, such statues erected in
memory of men he had never heard tell of. It would be a mighty fine
thing--though a novelty in Polpier--to have one's memory kept alive
in this fashion. . . . He would lord it in life too, as became a
Nanjivell--albeit the last of the race. To the Penhaligon family he
would be specially kind. . . . Upon other deserving ones he would