It was almost the first time any one at the Grange had thought of their poor neighbours, and the burden they were silently bearing under these great changes. Taxes were high, food was scarce, and many of the men had joined the King's army; but none of the Drurys had thought of these things except Harry, and it was the little scraps of news he heard in the village that first led him to doubt whether the royal cause were the just one. He and Gilbert Clayton were absent when the news concerning the archbishop first reached Hayslope; but when they returned in the evening Harry knew that something had happened, by the look of anxious trouble on his father's face, and the querulous restlessness of his aunt. "What is the matter, Mary?" he asked, in an anxious whisper. But Mary only held up her finger warningly. "The servants are coming in," she murmured; and at the same moment Mistress Mabel placed the Bible in front of the high-backed chair at the head of the table, and Master Drury slowly took his seat. Prayers for the King, Gilbert and Harry could both join in; for they hoped God would change his heart, and teach him that it was most unkingly to break his promises again and again, as he had done. But to-night it seemed that Master Drury could think of nothing but of the evil-doing of the Parliament in bringing the archbishop to trial; and he prayed that all their plans might be frustrated, the King brought back to his throne, and the archbishop restored to his charge; while those who had troubled them might be visited with dire calamities and afflictions. His prayer was not concluded when Harry started from his knees and said, in a hoarse voice, "Stop, my father, I pray you; you know not for what you are asking." All turned to look at him in silent, speechless wonder--all but Gilbert Clayton, who rose from his knees and laid his hand upon Harry's shoulder. "Come away," he whispered. But Harry would not stir. "My father must not pray thus," he said, loud enough for any one to hear. Master Drury and the rest slowly rose from their knees. "Harry, my boy, you are ill," said the gentleman, in a tone of compassion. "Prithee, now tell me where you have been racing all the day, to get your head so disordered," said Mistress Mabel; and she despatched Mary to her store closet for some herb tea for Harry to take at once. "I don't want the herb tea, aunt," said Harry, in a clear, calm voice. "I am quite well; the sun has not affected my head, and I know quite well what I am about." Aunt Mabel looked incredulous; but his father, losing the fear of illness, sat down in his chair, a dim feeling of a sorer trouble than this coming over him as he looked at Harry. "Sit down," he said, in a tone of command to the rest, who stood just as they had risen from their knees--"sit down and listen to the reason my son has to give for interrupting our godly exercise this evening." And he looked towards Harry as if waiting for his answer.