these were books well arranged in two elegant bookcases.
Mr. Yorke bade his guests be seated; he then rang for wine; to the servant who brought it he gave hospitable orders for the refreshment of the men in the kitchen. The Rector remained standing; he seemed not to like his quarters; he would not touch the wine his host offered him.
“E’en as you will,” remarked Mr. Yorke. “I reckon you’re thinking of Eastern customs, Mr. Helstone, and you’ll not eat nor drink under my roof, feared we suld be forced to be friends; but I’m not so particular or superstitious. You might sup the contents of that decanter, and you might give me a bottle of the best in your own cellar, and I’d hold myself free to oppose you at every turn still,—in every vestry-meeting and justice-meeting where we encountered one another.”
“It is just what I should expect of you, Mr. Yorke.”
“Does it agree wi’ ye now, Mr. Helstone, to be riding out after rioters of a wet night, at your age?”
“It always agrees with me to be doing me duty, and in this case my duty is a thorough pleasure. To hunt down vermin is a noble occupation,—fit for an Archbishop.”
“Fit for ye, at ony rate: but where’s t’ curate? He’s happen gone to visit some poor body in a sick gird, or he’s happen hunting down vermin in another direction.”
