"That's the guy that fell off the bronco," Hank said with a calm politeness, totally at variance with his disrespectful language.
The vicar looked at him sharply.
"Oh yes!" said the Duke eagerly, "of course. I picked him up."
There came to the vicar's mind a recollection that this young man had been "of some service to me." He smiled.
This broke the ice, and soon there was a three-cornered conversation in progress, which embraced subjects, as far apart as cattle ranching, and gardening.
"Now look here, you people," said the vicar, growing serious after a while, "I've got something to say to you—why have you come to Brockley?"
The two men exchanged glances.
"Well," said the Duke slowly, "there were several considerations that helped us to decide—first of all the death-rate is very low."
"And the gravel soil," murmured Hank encouragingly.
"And the gravel soil," the Duke went on, nodding his head wisely, "and the rates, you know——"