In Search of Treasure

Mr. Fenwick smiled, too. Though so different in temperament, he was really fond and proud of his lively son.

“I hardly think your additions would be for the edification of my people,” he said.

“Perhaps they might suit some of the young folks,” suggested Guy.

“Doubtless they would. If you would like to try your hand at sermon writing you can write a sermon and submit it to me. If suitable, I will preach it, and give you credit for it.”

Guy laughed.

“I’ll think of it, father,” he said. “I am going to make a call on one of my schoolmates, and will leave you to do your writing undisturbed.”

The schoolmate with whom Guy spent his evening was Tom Todd, a boy of about his own age. He had a sister some ten years older than himself, who was a teacher in one of the Bayport schools. She, as well as Tom, liked the bright son of the minister, and he received a cordial greeting from both.

“So you have got through school life, Guy?” she said.

“Yes, Miss Todd.”

“And you are fitted for college? Does your father think of Harvard for you?”

“He would like to have me go, but there are two objections in the way.”

“What are they?”

“First, he can’t afford the expense.”

“What is the second?”

“I have no desire to go.”

“That is the most important. If you really desired to go, I think you could borrow money enough somewhere, for you are acknowledged to be an excellent scholar.”

“Thank you for the compliment; but it is no disappointment to me not to go, though it is to my father. He is a regular bookworm, you know.”

“I know that he is not practical.”

“Come, Guy, let us have our game of checkers,” said Tom. “Let me see, I beat you last time.”

“Then it is my turn to beat you now.”

The boys played for an hour and a half, then Guy rose to go.

“What is your hurry? It is early yet.”

“That is true, but father is nervous, and he doesn’t like to have me out after half past nine o’clock. I left him writing his sermon for Sunday.”

“Why don’t you offer to help him, Guy?” asked Tom, with a smile.

“I did.”

“Really and truly?” said Tom, laughing.

“Yes; really and truly.”

“I suppose,” remarked Miss Todd, “he did not accept your offer?”

“No; he thought that what I would write would not be edifying.”

“If you would write a sermon, Guy, I would go to hear it,” said Tom.

“And I, too,” added his sister, the teacher.

“Then I should be sure of a congregation of two. Well, I will think of it.”

Guy took his hat to go.

“I will walk with you part way,” said Tom. “It is pleasant out, and I shall sleep the better for a walk.”

“I shall be glad of your company, Tom.”

When they were outside, Tom said, “I had an object in proposing to walk with you to-night, Guy. There is something I wanted to tell you.”

“Go ahead, Tom.”

“I think it is something you ought to know. I was walking home from singing school the other evening, when I came up behind Deacon Crane and another member of the church, Mr. Job Wilkins. I didn’t hear the first part of the conversation, but as I came within hearing I heard Deacon Crane say: ‘Yes, Brother Wilkins, I have thought for some time that the best interests of the church required that we should have a younger minister, who would stir up the people and draw in a larger number.’”

Guy flushed with indignation.

“Deacon Crane said that?” he ejaculated. “Why, he pretends to be one of father’s best friends.”

“I think it is a pretense,” said Tom.

“Poor father! If he should hear this it would almost break his heart. He is so fond of the people here.”

“It is a shame; but don’t worry too much over it. I am sure the majority of the parish don’t wish any change.”

In spite of this assurance, Guy went home in a sober frame of mind.

CHAPTER II

WHAT GUY FOUND IN THE BLUE CHEST

Mr. Fenwick was only forty-eight years old, but his sedate and scholarly manner gave him an appearance of being several years older.

It came to Guy as a shock that his father should be considered too old by his parish, and that there should be any movement in favor of a younger minister. He knew that his father was dependent on his salary, having very little property. A change would be disastrous to him.

“I wish I were rich,” he thought, “so that I could relieve father from any anxiety about money matters. It is lucky I don’t want to go to college, for if I did, it would be a good many years before I could even support myself.”

The next morning, after breakfast, Guy thought of his sailor uncle, and the curiosity again seized him to find out the contents of the chest up in the attic.