“Not at all. I am in earnest.”
“But where are you to get the money?” asked Mr. Fenwick, looking at his son in bewilderment.
“I must tell you, father, that I am worth over a hundred thousand dollars.”
“If you had not always been truthful, Guy, I should think that you were trying to deceive me.”
Then Guy explained. The explanation was, to his father, a marvelous one, and he had many questions to ask.
“Now, father,” Guy concluded, “I will alter the terms of my proposal. I will make over to you outright the sum of twenty-five thousand dollars, and you can invest it so as to produce a good income.”
Finally, Mr. Fenwick accepted his son’s proposal, and agreed to communicate with the parish.
That same evening Deacon Crane tapped at the door and was admitted. Guy was at home, and sat demurely in his father’s study.
“So you’ve got home, have you, Guy?” was his greeting, preceded by a cough. “Noah told me he saw you go by the store.”
“Yes; Noah is a great friend of mine,” returned Guy, with a smile. “I hope he is well.”