"There's not much greatness about me, I'm thinking!" "Well, it's not what you're thinking in this case," he answered; "it's what other folks are thinking of you.

Here's Sir Gilbert Carstairs in my room yonder.

He's wanting a steward--somebody that can keep accounts, and letters, and look after the estate, and he's been looking round for a likely man, and he's heard that Lindsey's clerk, Hugh Moneylaws, is just the sort he wants--and, in short, the job's yours, if you like to take it.

And, my lad, it's worth five hundred a year--and a permanency, too! A fine chance for a young fellow of your age!" "Do you advise me to take it, Mr.Lindsey ?" I asked, endeavouring to combine surprise with a proper respect for the value of his counsel.
"It's a serious job that for, as you say, a young fellow." "Not if he's got your headpiece on him," he replied, giving me another clap on the shoulder.

"I do advise you to take it.