Now, though he could not pay his debts,--and intended, indeed, to run away from them,--he was going to try his fortune with a certain small capital which his father had agreed to give him as his share of what there might be of the good things of the world among the Shands generally.

As Shand himself said of both of them, he was about to go forth as a prodigal son, with a perfect assurance that, should he come back empty-handed, no calf would be killed for him.

But he was an active man, with a dash of fun, and perhaps a sprinkling of wit, quick and brave, to whom life was apparently a joke, and who boasted of himself that, though he was very fond of beef and beer, he could live on bread and water, if put to it, without complaining.
Caldigate almost feared that the man was a dangerous companion, but still there was a certain fitness about him for the thing contemplated; and, for such a venture, where could he find any other companion who would be fit?
Dr.Shand, the father, was a physician enjoying a considerable amount of provincial eminence in a small town in Essex.

Here he had certainly been a succesful man; for, with all the weight of such a family on his back, he had managed to save some money.

There had been small legacies from other Shands, and trifles of portion had come to them from the Potters, of whom Mrs.Shand had been one,--Shand and Potter having been wholesale druggists in Smithfield.