Three months afterward, Fred Torrey was hurrying down Broadway when a voice arrested him.
"See here, Tor, if it isn't a life, or a million that is at stake, suppose you stop and speak to an old crony?"
"Ah, Baker, glad to see you. I have no special need of haste, though I have several things to do this afternoon. I'm off to-morrow."
"For Europe? Does Amesbury go with you?" asked Baker.
"Amesbury? Haven't you heard? He has gone back with Bradford to study for the ministry."
"Amesbury study for the ministry!" repeated Baker. "You are quizzing."
"Not at all. It is the solemn truth, queer as it seems."
"Well, a sudden turn around I should say."
"I have a note from him," said Torrey: "Let me see—no, I haven't it about me. He says that the purposes of his life have changed, that he just begins to see the real meaning of Christ's life and death, and more in that strain. He is evidently in earnest. If I had time, I'd look into the matter. There must be something in a religion that wins over a fellow like Amesbury."
"I know reckless sort of sinners like you and me are apt to go from one extreme to another, but steady, cautious fellows of his stamp are hard to turn. I wonder what did it?"