He would soon be fifteen years old.  Mrs. Peak was growing anxious, for she could no longer consent to draw upon her sister for a portion of the school fees, and no pertinent suggestion for the lad’s future was made by any of the people who admired his cleverness.  Miss Cadman still clung in a fitful way to the idea of making her nephew a cleric; she had often talked it over with the Misses Lumb, who of course held that ‘any sacrifice’ was justifiable with such a motive, and who suggested a hope that, by the instrumentality of Lady Whitelaw, a curacy might easily be obtained as soon as Godwin was old enough.  But several years must pass before that Levitical stage could be reached; and then, after all, perhaps the younger boy, Oliver, placid of temper and notably pliant in mind, was better suited for the dignity of Orders.  It was lamentable that Godwin should have become so intimate with that earth-burrowing Mr. Gunnery, who certainly never attended either church or chapel, and who seemed to have imbued his pupil with immoral theories concerning the date of creation.  Godwin held more decidedly aloof from his aunt, and had been heard by Charlotte to speak very disrespectfully of the Misses Lumb.  In short, there was no choice but to discover an opening for him in some secular pursuit.  Could he, perhaps, become an assistant teacher?  Or must he ’go into an office’?

No common lad.  A youth whose brain glowed like a furnace, whose heart throbbed with tumult of high ambitions, of inchoate desires; endowed with knowledge altogether exceptional for his years; a nature essentially militant, displaying itself in innumerable forms of callow intolerance—­apt, assuredly, for some vigorous part in life, but as likely as not to rush headlong on traverse roads if no judicious mind assumed control of him.  What is to be done with the boy?

All very well, if the question signified, in what way to provide for the healthy development of his manhood.  Of course it meant nothing of the sort, but merely:  What work can be found for him whereby he may earn his daily bread?  We—­his kinsfolk even, not to think of the world at large—­can have no concern with his growth as an intellectual being; we are hard pressed to supply our own mouths with food; and now that we have done our recognised duty by him, it is high time that he learnt to fight for his own share of provender.  Happily, he is of the robust sex; he can hit out right and left, and make standing-room.  We have armed him with serviceable weapons, and now he must use them against the enemy—­that is to say, against all mankind, who will quickly enough deprive him of sustenance if he fail in the conflict.  We neither know, nor in great measure care, for what employment he is naturally marked.  Obviously he cannot heave coals or sell dogs’ meat, but with negative certainty not much else can be resolved, seeing how desperate is the competition for minimum salaries.  He has been born, and he must eat.  By what licensed channel may he procure the necessary viands?