"Thank you, father!" Yorke said quietly. He was about to say something more, but he checked himself.
"Of course we must give up the idea of going to the skating party in Sir William Morton's park to-morrow," Mrs. Harberton said.
"I see no reason for our doing so," the rector said gently. "We can't sell our horses and carriage in twenty-four hours, and I should certainly prefer to go. It would be but a bad example to our neighbours if it were seen that we are broken in spirit by a worldly misfortune. Many of them know that my income was chiefly drawn from the bank. I am always preaching patience and contentment to our congregation, very many of whom have suffered heavily from agricultural distress, and what I preach we can practise, and without undervaluing the advantages of money, we can show them that we have no idea of grieving over its loss. One of my greatest regrets is that in future we shall be somewhat stinted in our means of helping our neighbours."
The next day, accordingly, the rector, his wife, and daughters drove over to the skating party, and although a few knew how great was the change effected in their circumstances by the crash at the bank, the majority believed that the report that the greater part, if not the whole, of the rector's private property had been swept away, had been grossly exaggerated, for there was nothing in their manner or appearance to afford any indication of their changed position. Yorke said that he would rather stay at home, and, when the others, started, went to the stables, and patted and talked to the horses. He had ridden all of them; for, three years before, he had been promoted from his pony, and in his holidays took long rides with his father. He had learned also to take the horses over hurdles erected in the field behind the house, and, under the instruction of his father's coachman, who had once been a stud groom, had acquired an excellent seat.
"And what are you going to do, Master Yorke?" the man asked, for he had already heard from Mr. Harberton that circumstances had occurred that would oblige him to give up his carriage and horses, but that he would try to find him another situation.
"I am not going back to school, that is quite settled. Of course it is a beastly nuisance, but it can't be helped. My father says that he intends to teach me himself; but, what with parish work, and one thing and another, I know it would be a very tiresome job for him. But even if he did, I don't see that it would be of any great use to me. Of course I cannot go up to the University now; I am not altogether sorry for that, for, you know, my father always wished me to go into the church, and although, so far, I have said nothing against it, I don't feel that I am in any way cut out for the job. Anyhow, I don't like the thought of being a drag on his hands, for after I had done with work with him there would be a terrible difficulty about getting me a berth of some kind.
"I would rather do anything in the world than be a clerk and be stuck in an office all day. That is the worst of going to a public school, you get to hate the idea of an indoor life. I would rather a hundred times go to sea or enlist in the army, when I am old enough; at any rate in the army I should see something of the world and keep myself, and at the end of my five years' service might find some opening. Then there is my father's cousin out at the Cape. When he was here last year, I know he offered to take me out with him. Of course father would not hear of it then, there was no reason why he should; but things have changed, and I don't see why I should not go now. I am getting on for sixteen, you know, and can ride and all that sort of thing, and I shot regularly last winter, and brought down some partridges too."
"Not many, master," the man said with a grin.
"No, not many," the boy admitted; "still, it was my first year, and I had only a single barrel; father himself said I did very fairly, and that he had no doubt that I should make a good shot in time."