So George yielded: how could he help it? Harry Ashton had become his
bosom-chum during the five years he had been at school, and all the old
happy memories of those days were again fresh upon him.

"Now, George, tell your story first, and then mine shall follow." Then
George narrated all the leading circumstances which had attended his
life, from the time he left school up to that very evening, and a long
story it was.

"Now," said Ashton, "for mine. When you left Folkestone I got up to your
place at the head of the school, and there I held on till I left. Six
months after you left, the holidays came, and I came up to town. I spent
a few days with Mr. Ralston, an old friend of the family, and one of the
first engineers and surveyors in London. He took a liking to me, offered
to take me into his office, wrote to the governor (I know you don't like
that term, though--I mean my father), proposed a sum as premium,
arrangements were made; and, instead of returning to school, I came to
London and commenced learning the arts and mysteries of a profession. I
had only been with Mr. Ralston two or three months, when one morning my
father came into the office, out of wind with excitement, and said,
'Harry, I have got sad and joyful, and wonderful news for you! Poor old
Mr. Cornish is dead; the will has been opened, and--make up your mind
for a surprise--the bulk of his property is left to you.' I was
thunderstruck. I knew the old gentleman would leave me something, but I
did not know that he had quarrelled with his relatives, and therefore
appropriated to me the share originally intended for them. So, you see,
I have stepped into luck's way. I am allowed an income now which amounts
to something like two hundred a year, as I shall not come into my rights
till I am twenty-one, and how I am not nineteen; so I have a long time