truly a phenomenon--a bookseller in the tiniest
way, who had become imbued with some idea of the dignity of literature,
and esteemed its exponents in inverse ratio to his own unlettered
condition; thought of his scanty schooling being the one shadow which
ever darkened his brow.

To this fairy London, this home of learning, this emporium of all the
graces, Henry Charles looked forward in his day-dreams, while his
neighbours lamented his father's folly in not setting him to hoe
potatoes, or at least to sell ounces of shag.

"The led is struck on books; it's books with 'im mornin', noon, an'
night, and I ain't the man to stand in 'is way," quoth Edward John, in
expostulation with a friendly neighbour who advised him to put Henry to
work. "I don't know what 'e's going to be, or what's in 'im; but
whatever it is, the led shall 'ave his chance."

And when Edward John Charles said a thing he meant it.

CHAPTER II

HENRY LEAVES HOME

IT had been ever the habit of Edward John Charles that when he made up
his mind to do a thing, that thing was as good as done. How else would
it have been possible for a man to rise to the onerous and honoured
position of postmaster at Hampton Bagot? For some time he had been
tending to the conclusion that Henry would soon require to make a move
if he was ever to rise in the world. Not that the postmaster was
influenced by the opinions of the village gossips, brutally frank and
straightforward though these were. He prided himself on being above such
trifles, though, if the truth be told, the Post Office was the veritable
centre of the local gossip-mongering.

But the last encounter with Mr. Needham, and Henry's shyly audacious
offer to stand an examination at the hands of the vicar, confirmed the
portly Mr. Charles in the opinion that his youthful prodigy had outgrown
all the possibilities of Hampton Bagot. Had not Mr. Page confessed there
was really nothing more he could teach the studious Henry? Did he not
admit that after a few lessons in Latin Henry shot ahead so fast he soon
outstripped the learning of his tutor? Surely, then, further delay in
starting him upon the battle of life were only wasting his sweetness on
the desert air of Hampton Bagot, as Mr. Charles, in one of his literary
moods, would say. Besides, the supposed laziness of the youth was a
growing scandal to the community; and after all, even the postmaster