nerate earth, he was no mean figure. Now,
when Mr. Powell heard of the death of Henry Knight, whom he said he had
always respected as an upright tradesman and a sincere Christian, and of
the shorthand speed medal of Henry Shakspere Knight, he benevolently
offered the young Henry a situation in his office at twenty-five
shillings a week, rising to thirty.

Young Henry's fortune was made. He was in Powells, and under the
protecting aegis of the principal. He shared in the lustre of Powells.
When people mentioned him, they also mentioned Powells, as if that
settled the matter--whatever the matter was. Mr. Powell invested Mrs.
Knight's two thousand pounds on mortgage or freehold security at five
per cent., and upon this interest, with Henry's salary and Aunt Annie's
income, the three lived in comfort at Dawes Road. Nay, they saved, and
Henry travelled second-class between Walham Green and the Temple. The
youth was serious, industrious, and trustworthy, and in shorthand
incomparable. No one acquainted with the facts was surprised when, after
three years, Mr. Powell raised him to the position of his confidential
clerk, and his salary to fifty-two shillings and sixpence.

And then Mr. Powell, who had fought for so long against meaningless
honours, capitulated and accepted a knighthood. The effect upon Dawes
Road was curious and yet very natural. It was almost as though Henry
himself had accepted a knighthood. Both Mrs. Knight and Aunt Annie
seemed to assume that Henry had at least contributed to the knighthood
and that the knighthood was in some subtle way the reward of Henry's
talent, rectitude, and strenuousness. 'Sir George'--those two syllables
which slipped smoothly off the tongue with no effort to the
speaker--entered largely into all conversations in the house at Dawes
Road; and the whole street, beginning with the milkman, knew that Henry
was Sir George's--no, not Sir George's confidential clerk, no such
thing!--private secretary.

His salary was three guineas a week. He had a banking account at Smith,
Payne and Smiths, and a pew at the Munster Park Wesleyan Chapel. He was
a power at the Regent Street Polytechnic. He bought books, including
encyclopaedias and dictionaries. He wrote essays which were read and
debated upon at the sessions of the Debating Society. (One of the essays
was entitled: 'The Tendencies of Modern Fiction'; he was honestly irate
against the Stream of Trashy Novels Constantly Poured Forth by the