“Humph!” said he, with a grunt. “I 've been a-think-ing over it since, and I suspect it would n't do. He 'd be making a mess of it, the way he does of everything; that blessed luck of his never leaves him, eh?”
Seeing that this was meant as an interrogation, I replied faintly: “You 're quite right, uncle. If I am to depend on my good fortune, it will be a bad look-out for me.”
“Not that I value what is called luck a rush,” cried he, with energy. “I have had luck, but I had energy, industry, thrift, and perseverance. If I had waited for luck, I 'd have lived pretty much like yourself, and I don't know anything to be very proud of in that, eh?”
“I am certainly not proud of my position, sir.”
“I don't understand what you mean by your position; but I know I 'd have been a coal-heaver rather than live on my relations. I 'd have sold sulphur matches, I 'd have been a porter!”
“Well, sir, I suppose I may come to something of that kind yet; a little more of the courteous language I am now listening to will make the step less difficult.”
“Eh?—What! I don't comprehend. Do you mean anything offensive?”
“No, dear, he does not,” broke in my aunt; “he only says he 'd do anything rather than be a burden to his family, and I 'm sure he would; he seems very sorry about all the trouble he has cost them.”
My uncle smoked on for several minutes without a word; at last he came to the end of his pipe, and, having emptied the ashes, and gazed ruefully at the bowl, he said: “There 's no more in the fellow than in that pipe! Not a bit. I say,” cried he, aloud, and turning to me, “you've had to my own knowledge as good as a dozen chances, and you've never succeeded in one of them.”
“It's all true,” said I, sorrowfully.