“You can board,” suggested the deacon.
“I should not like it. I have been accustomed to have a home of my own. Besides—I didn’t think to tell you—I am expecting Guy home.”
Deacon Crane opened his eyes wide.
“Why, I thought he was in Bombay, earning his living. Why did he leave there?”
“I don’t know. I got a letter this morning, saying that he had reached New York on the steamer Etruria.”
Deacon Crane’s puckered and wrinkled face looked jubilant. It might have been thought that he was pleased at the prospect of seeing Guy back; but this would have been a mistake.
“I am not surprised,” he said, dryly.
“I am. I did not dream of such a thing.”
“Of course, it’s plain enough. Guy didn’t suit his employer, and he has been discharged.”
“I hope it isn’t that. But even that is better than his being sick.”