“Nothing, most of the time,” his father said bitterly. “But I hear this morning that he has been offered a post as bear leader to the younger brother of a friend of his. I gather the lad is a trifle defective.”
“Must be, I should think. His friends too, I imagine,” Luke Bechcombe barked gruffly.
The implication was unmistakable. The rector sighed uneasily.
“I have faith, you know, Luke, that the boy will come right in the end. He is the child of many prayers.”
“Umph!” Mr. Bechcombe sat drumming his fingers on the writing-pad before him. “Why don't you let him pay his debts out of his salary?”
The clergyman stirred uneasily.
“He couldn't. And there are things that must be met at once—debts of honour, he calls them. But that is enough, Luke. I mean to give the boy a clean start this time, and I think he will go straight. He has an inducement now that he has never had before.”
“Good heavens! Not a girl?” Luke Bechcombe ejaculated.
Mr. Collyer bent his head.
“Yes, I hope so. A very charming girl too, I believe.”