“Oh, I’ll make it easy,” Ovington said. “This is my offer. You will put in five thousand pounds, and will receive for three years twelve per cent upon this in lieu of your present salary of one hundred and fifty—the hundred you are to be paid as Secretary to the Company is beside the matter. At the end of three years, if we are both satisfied, you will take an eighth share—otherwise you will draw out your money. On my death, if you remain in the bank, your share will be increased to a third on your bringing in another five thousand. You know enough about the accounts to know——” “That it’s a most generous offer,” Arthur exclaimed, his face aglow. And with the frankness and enthusiasm, the sparkling eye and ready word that won him so many friends, he expressed his thanks. “Well, lad,” the other answered pleasantly, “I like you. Still, you had better take a short time to consider the matter.” “I want no time,” Arthur declared. “My only difficulty is about the money. My mother’s six thousand is charged on Garth, you see.” This was a fact well known to Ovington, and one which he had taken into his reckoning. Perhaps, but for it, he had not been making the offer at this moment. But he concealed his satisfaction and a smile, and “Isn’t there a provision for calling it up?” he said. “Yes, there is—at three months. But I am afraid that my mother——” “Surely she would not object under the circumstances. The increased income might be divided between you so that it would be to her profit as well as to your advantage to make the change. Three months, eh? Well, suppose we say the money to be paid and the articles of partnership to be signed four months from now?” Difficulties never loomed very large in this young man’s eyes. “Very good, sir,” he said. “Upon my honor, I don’t know how to thank you.” “It won’t be all on your side,” the banker answered good-humoredly. “Your name’s worth something, and you are keen. I wish to heaven you could infect Clement with a tithe of your keenness.” “I’ll try, sir,” Arthur replied. At that moment he felt that he could move mountains. “Well, that’s settled, then. Send Rodd to me, will you, and do you see if I have left my pocket-book in the house. Betty may know where it is.” Arthur went through the bank, stepping on air. He gave Rodd his message, and in a twinkling he was in the house. As he crossed the hall his heart beat high. Lord, how he would work! What feats of banking he would perform! How great would he make Ovington’s, so that not only Aldshire but Lombard Street should ring with its fame! What wealth would he not pile up, what power would he not build upon it, and how he would crow, in the days to come, over the dull-witted clod-hopping Squires from whom he sprang, and who had not the brains to see that the world was changing about them and their reign approaching its end!