There was, for once, a nervous impatience in his letters, and his father, who pitied him deeply, and was more than ever inclined to reward and indulge him, yielded readily enough; and, on his arrival, signed the partnership deed, and, Polonius-like, gave him much good counsel; then retired to his country seat.
At first he used to run up every three days, and examine the day-book and ledger, and advise his junior; but these visits soon became fewer, and at last he did little more than correspond occasionally.
Arthur Wardlaw held the reins, and easily paid his Oxford debts out of the assets of the firm.

Not being happy in his mind, he threw himself into commerce with feverish zeal, and very soon extended the operations of the house.
One of his first acts of authority was to send for Michael Penfold into his room.

Now poor old Michael, ever since his son's misfortune, as he called it, had crept to his desk like a culprit, expecting every day to be discharged.

When he received this summons he gave a sigh and went slowly to the young merchant.
Arthur Wardlaw looked up at his entrance, then looked down again, and said coldly, "Mr.Penfold, you have been a faithful servant to us many years; I raise your salary fifty pounds a year, and you will keep the ledger." The old man was dumfounded at first, and then began to give vent to his surprise and gratitude; but Wardlaw cut him short, almost fiercely.
"There, there, there," said he, without raising his eyes, "let me hear no more about it, and, above all, never speak to me of that cursed business.
It was no fault of yours, nor mine neither.

There--go--I want no thanks.
Do you hear?
leave me, Mr.Penfold, if you please." The old man bowed low and retired, wondering much at his employer's goodness, and a little at his irritability.
Wardlaw junior's whole soul was given to business night and day, and he soon became known for a very ambitious and rising merchant.