The service being over, there remained a few minutes before the ringing of the lock-up bell would call the boys to their houses.
‘Let’s go up to the churchyard,’ said Gerald to Harry Venniker, who had joined him just outside the chapel.
They walked up the hill, talking of Dr. Pearson’s sermon.
‘By Jove!’ said Harry, ‘how well the doctor preached to-night! There’s nobody like him. He seems to know what fellows are thinking.’
‘Yes,’ said Gerald, ‘but it’s hard to do what he says.’
‘What’s hard?’ asked Harry.
‘Why, you see, a person may be able to act as he likes, but he can’t believe as he likes,’ said Gerald.
‘I don’t see that,’ answered Harry. ‘I know I find it a great deal harder to keep straight, though it’s plain enough what one ought to do.’
‘That’s not quite what I meant,’ was Gerald’s reply.
They had reached the churchyard by this time. They were standing under its elms, gazing out over the wold. There was a deep and almost awful stillness in the air. Only the rooks were cawing overhead.