William was a grocer's assistant when his father died. How he had managed to maintain his mother and build up a flourishing business out of nothing was a story often told in St. Goram. The very severity of his struggle was perhaps in his favour. His neighbours sympathised with him in his uphill fight, and patronised his small shop when it was convenient to do so. So his business grew. Later on people discovered that they could get better stuff for the money at William's shop than almost anywhere else. Hence, when sympathy failed, self-interest took its place. As William's capital increased, he added new departments to his business, and vastly improved the appearance of his premises. He turned the whole side of his shop into a big window at his own expense, not asking Lord St. Goram for a penny. At the time of which we write, William had reached the sober age of thirty-six, and was generally looked upon as a man of substance. He was surprised one evening to receive a visit from his cousin, Sam Tremail. The young farmer had to make himself known. He did so in rather a clumsy fashion; but then, the task he had set himself was a delicate one, and he had not been trained in the art of diplomacy. "It seems a pity," Sam said, with a benevolent smile, "that relatives should be as strangers to each other." "Relationships don't count for much in these days, I fear," William answered cautiously. "Nevertheless, I am glad to see you." "You think it is every man for himself, eh?" Sam questioned, with a slight blush. "I don't say it is the philosophy or the practice of every man. But in the main----" "Yes, I think you are right," Sam interjected, with a sudden burst of candour. "And, really, I don't want you to think that I am absolutely disinterested in riding over from Pentudy to see you." "It is a long journey for nothing," William said, with a smile. "Mind you, I have often wanted to know you better," Sam went on. "Father has often spoken of your pluck and perseverance. He admires you tremendously." "It is very kind of him," William said, with a touch of cynicism in his tones. "I hope he is well. I have not seen him for years." "He is first rate, thank you, and so is mother. I suppose you know they have retired from the farm?" "No, I had not heard." "I have it in my own hands now. For some things I wish I hadn't. I tried to persuade father and mother to live on in the house, but they had made up their minds to go and live in town, where they could have gas in the streets, and all that kind of thing. If I had only a sister to keep house it wouldn't be so bad." "But why don't you get married?" "Well, to tell you the truth, that is the very thing I have come to talk to you about." And Sam turned all ways in his chair, and looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Come to talk to me about?" William questioned, in a tone of surprise.