“I know you will think it rather a curious suggestion, coming from me, but I give my vote for the Army.” “The Army? But Harry is poor.” I inwardly smiled at Miss Gascoyne’s notion of poverty. I knew what she thought the Army should mean for a Gascoyne:—a crack cavalry regiment and unlimited private means. “An inexpensive line regiment.” “Oh dear!” I laughed. “It’s the thing, depend upon it. He will be in a profession he likes, among men who take their profession seriously. After all, he will have a better average of gentlemen than he would have in a crack regiment, even if he does not have the high nobility of exceptions.” “I see what you mean, but I don’t think Harry would ever consent.” “I believe you could make him do anything.” I was inwardly congratulating myself on the perfect conviction with which I was discussing the future of one who by this time was most probably solving problems in theology. We talked on till Miss Gascoyne grew anxious. “I really wish Harry would come home.” “Shall I go and look for him?” She knew what was in my mind. His late homecoming meant as a rule that he was to be found at the inn. “Was he at home to dinner?” “No. He has some friends living a few miles off whom I don’t know, and he rode over in the afternoon and proposed to stay to dinner. There he is.” We both listened. Along the hard road came the sound of a horse’s hoofs. Miss Gascoyne rose in alarm. Either the horse was riderless or it was no longer under control. It was not necessary to listen for more than a few seconds to be convinced of that. We both went out on to the lawn. A figure came round the corner of the house and hastened on to the road. It was the groom. “Oh, Mr. Rank, what can have happened?” “I will go and see.” But she went with me to the gate. The mare had evidently come to a full stop just outside, and was now held by the groom. She was steaming with sweat and gave every evidence of the greatest distress. Inwardly I was wondering how it was the animal had been so long in reaching the Grange. It must have wandered on slowly feeding by the wayside till it had taken fright at some passing object and started at full gallop for home. Miss Gascoyne looked around in dismay for her brother. “She wur alone, Miss,” said the groom, blankly. “It doesn’t at all follow that your brother was on her back when she bolted,” I ventured. She looked at me, grateful for the suggestion. She was very white, but her character asserted itself. She turned to the groom. “Baker, take Jenny round to the stables and make her comfortable as soon as possible. Mr. Rank and I will walk as far as the inn and you can follow us.” “Very good, Miss.” The man did as he was directed.