As time advanced Philip Maylands’ circumstances improved, for Phil belonged to that class of which it is sometimes said “they are sure to get on.” He was thorough-going and trustworthy—two qualities these which the world cannot do without, and which, being always in demand, are never found begging.

 

Phil did not “set up” for anything. He assumed no airs of superior sanctity. He did not even aim at being better than others, though he did aim, daily, at being better than he was. In short, the lad, having been trained in ways of righteousness, and having the Word of God as his guide, advanced steadily and naturally along the narrow way that leads to life. Hence it came to pass in the course of time that he passed from the ranks of Out-door Boy Telegraph Messenger to that of Boy-Sorter, with a wage of twelve shillings a week, which was raised to eighteen shillings. His hours of attendance at the Circulation Department were from 4:30 in the morning till 9; and from 4:30 in the evening till 8. These suited him well, for he had ever been fond of rising with the lark while at home, and had no objection to rise before the lark in London. The evening being free he devoted to study—for Phil was one of that by no means small class of youths who, in default of a College education, do their best to train themselves, by the aid of books and the occasional help of clergymen, philanthropists, and evening classes.

 

In all this Phil was greatly assisted by his sister May, who, although not much more highly educated than himself, was quick of perception, of an inquiring mind, and a sympathetic soul. He was also somewhat assisted, and, at times, not a little retarded, by his ardent admirer Peter Pax, who joined him enthusiastically in his studies, but, being of a discursive and enterprising spirit, was prone to tempt him off the beaten paths of learning into the thickets of speculative philosophy.

 

One evening Pax was poring over a problem in Euclid with his friend in Pegaway Hall.

 

“Phil,” he said uneasily, “drop your triangles a bit and listen. Would you think it dishonest to keep a thing secret that ought to be known?”

 

“That depends a good deal on what the secret is, and what I have got to do with it,” replied Phil. “But why do you ask?”

 

“Because I’ve been keeping a secret a long time—much against my will—an’ I can stand it no longer. If I don’t let it out, it’ll bu’st me—besides, I’ve got leave to tell it.”

 

“Out with it, then, Pax; for it’s of no use trying to keep down things that don’t agree with you.”

 

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