man.'

'Of that I have no doubt whatever, Mr. Wigmore.'

'Well, then, sir, what I should like to ask you is this. Do you think, if I
gave up the shop and worked very hard at my studies--with help, of course,
with help,--do you think, Mr. Starkey, that I could hope to get on?'

He was red as a peony; his voice choked.

'You mean,' put in Topham, he, too, becoming excited, 'to become a really
well-educated man?'

'Yes, sir, yes. But more than that. I want, Mr. Starkey, to make
myself--something--so that my daughters and my sons-in-law would never feel
ashamed of me--so that their children won't be afraid to talk of their
grandfather. I know it's a very bold thought, sir, but if I could--'

'Speak, Mr. Wigmore,' cried Topham, quivering with curiosity, 'speak more
plainly. What do you wish to become? With competent help--of course, with
competent help--anything is possible.'

'Really?' exclaimed the other. 'You mean that, Mr. Starkey? Then, sir'--he
leaned forward, blushing, trembling, gasping--'could I get to be--a
curate?'

Topham fell back into his chair. For two or three minutes he was mute with
astonishment; then the very soul of him sang jubilee.

'My dear Mr. Wigmore,' he began, restraining himself to an impressive
gravity. 'I should be the last man to speak lightly of the profession of a
clergyman or to urge any one to enter the Church whom I thought unfitted
for the sacred office. But in your case, my good sir, there can be no such
misgiving. I entertain no doubt whatever of your fitness--your moral
fitness, and I will go so far as to say that with competent aid you might,
in no very long time, be prepared for the necessary examination.'

The listener laughed with delight. He began to talk rapidly, all diffidence
subdued. He told how the idea had first come to him, how he had brooded
upon it, how he had worked at elementary lesson-books, very secretly--then
how the sight of Starkey's advertisement had inspired him with hope.

'Just to get to be a curate--that's all. I should never be worthy of being
a vicar or a rector. I don't look so high as that, Mr. Starkey. But a
curate is a clergyman, and for my daughters to be able to say their father
is in the Church--that would be a good thing, sir, a good thing!'

He slapped his knee, and again laughed with joy. Meanwhile Topham seemed to
have become pensive, his head was on his hand.

'Oh,' he murmured at length, 'if I had time to work seriously with you,
s