In Search of Treasure

“I hear, Mr. Fenwick, that your son Guy has got home,” he began.

“Yes,” answered Mr. Fenwick, with a smile of satisfaction. “Guy has got back.”

“Rather unexpected, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, unexpected, but very welcome. It has brightened me up a good deal.”

“Has it? I thought perhaps you might have been disappointed.”

“Disappointed to see Guy? Oh, no! no!”

“You know what I mean,” returned the deacon, with some asperity.

“I don’t think I do.”

“I mean, of course, that it can’t be pleasant to have your son thrown on your hands when you thought he was earnin’ his livin’.”

“I think I must ask you to explain yourself.”

“If you wasn’t a minister, I might say that you seem a little dense,” said the deacon, impatiently. “However, I feel for you. You can’t afford to have a big boy eatin’ you out of house and home. I can find work for him on my farm, though, of course, I shouldn’t feel justified in payin’ much.”

“You are considerate, deacon,” said Mr. Fenwick, with a slight smile, “and perhaps I have misled you. Guy is not out of employment.”

“No?” said the deacon, opening his eyes in surprise. “Do you mean to say that he has a position?”

“He is in the employ of Mr. Saunders of Bombay.”

“How can that be?”

“He was sent to New York on business by his employer, and took the opportunity of visiting me.”

“This don’t seem a very likely story,” said the deacon, in a tone of disappointment. “Are you sure he isn’t deceivin’ you?”

“I am quite sure,” answered Mr. Fenwick, with dignity. “Does your son ever deceive you?”

“That isn’t neither here nor there. If he told me such a story as Guy has told you I would punish him.”

“Guy doesn’t deceive me,” said the minister, quietly.

He was annoyed with the deacon for his incredulity, but he understood Mr. Crane’s suspicious nature, also his dislike for Guy, and he was not surprised.

“However,” continued the deacon, “that isn’t what I came over for. I hope you’ve considered the matter, and are resigned to my foreclosin’ the mortgage.”

“I do not propose to allow the mortgage to be foreclosed.”

The deacon was surprised and angry. He felt that Mr. Fenwick was trifling with him.

“I apprehend,” he said, “that it isn’t what you allow, Mr. Minister, but what I choose to do.”

“You are mistaken, Deacon Crane.”

“How are you goin’ to stop me foreclosin'?”

“By paying the mortgage.”

“Have you got the money?” asked the deacon, his jaw dropping.

“Yes.”

“Who lent it to you? Was it Mr. Ainsworth?”

“I don’t think, Deacon Crane, that that is a question which you have any right to ask.”

“Oh, well, if you don’t want to tell,” said the deacon, in a tone of disappointment.

“I don’t know that I have any objection to tell you, though, as I said, it is not a question which you have a right to ask. Guy lent it to me.”

“Guy lent it to you?” repeated the deacon, in an amazement which was almost ludicrous.

“Yes.”

“Mr. Fenwick,” said the deacon, severely, “I thought you’d be above takin’ from Guy his employer’s money.”

“I think, Deacon Crane, that you are guilty of great impertinence in hinting such a thing!”

“This to me?” ejaculated the deacon, wrathfully.

“Yes, sir. You are speaking in a way I shall not permit. We will, if you please, proceed at once to business.”

Mr. Fenwick displayed such unusual spirit that Deacon Crane was electrified.

“The minister’s gettin’ on his high horse,” he said to himself. “It’s a mystery to me where Guy got so much money. I won’t rest till I find out.”

The money was paid, and Mr. Fenwick breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that his little property was at last free from incumbrance.

Deacon Crane left the house in a state of bewilderment even exceeding his disappointment. How on earth Guy could have come to his father’s assistance he could not understand.

He determined to question the minister’s son at the first opportunity.

He had not long to wait.

He had walked but two hundred yards when he met Guy sauntering along with a pleasant smile on his face.

“Here, you, Guy!” he called out, unceremoniously. “Your father tells me you have lent him five hundred dollars.”

“I hope you don’t doubt my father’s word,” said Guy, amused by the deacon’s evident perplexity.

“I don’t doubt it, for I’ve got the money in my wallet. The question is, where did you get it?”