The hidden treasure

by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

"I cannot help liking the poor man, in spite of his laziness and love of eating," said Jack. "He seems so good-natured, and he was so anxious that I should get on well with Father Barnaby, who by the way treated him with scant civility. I thought he might reverence the old man's age at any rate, for Sir John is old enough to be Father Barnaby's father. I wonder what in the world brought him up there behind the thornbush the other day."

"Not his own good will, I dare say," replied the shepherd. "I should not care if he had been the only listener, but I shrewdly suspect that sacristan of his has been before him. He is a sharp fellow, that same sacristan, and I have heard he was placed here by Father Barnaby to keep a lookout upon matters in the parish. It has been whispered—take good heed you whisper it not again—that our good knight is a favorer of the Gospel, like his father and grandfather before him; and I suspect Father Barnaby may have put this Brother Jacob about Sir John as a spy not only on him, but upon the family at the Hall. He had better not let our knight catch him at any spy work!" added the old man, smiling somewhat grimly, "Or he will get a worse fall than poor Father John's."

For two or three weeks all went on quietly with our friends at Holford. Mindful of another probable encounter with Father Barnaby, Jack studied his Horace with diligence, and stored his mind with hosts of queries to be answered and difficulties to be solved, should he meet the father again. He was a good deal startled and shocked by some things he encountered in his studies, and could not but wonder how two churchmen like Father Barnaby and Father Thomas of Glastonbury could bestow so much time and thought upon ladies of such at the least dubious character as some of those celebrated by their favorite author.

"Yes, I have often thought of that same thing," said Father John, when Jack remarked as much to him one day. "Here is Brother Barnaby ready to condemn one to I know not what, if one so much as looks at a pretty girl in the parish or gives her in all innocence a red apple or a flower, and yet he can pore for hours over all sorts of love stories, and those none of the nicest, as far as I can understand, and it is all right because they are in Latin. For my part I could wish there had never been any such language as Latin, unless just enough for the mass perhaps. I don't know what it is good for, except to puzzle men's brains and procure whippings for little boys, who when they grow up remember the whippings and mostly forget the Latin."

"And now about the abbot's letter, your reverence," said Jack. "If you had the notes ready, I would write it for you."

"Oh, dear, my son! You are as bad as Father Barnaby himself—no, not as bad, because you are good-natured and don't lecture me."

"I should hope I knew my duty far better than to lecture my elders and betters," said Jack. "I would not hurry you for the world, only you know great men like the abbot are sometimes offended at delay in their business, and he might speak about it to Father Barnaby—"

"Yes, that is true indeed," said the priest with alacrity. "That would be worse than setting the dogs on me. Well, I will make the necessary inquiries this very day, and you shall begin the letter tomorrow. It is a fine thing to be a scholar, though it sometimes brings people into trouble, as you see. If you did not know Latin, you would not be burdened with writing letters for me."

"I am sure I am very glad to do as much and more for you," said Jack, honestly. "You have been very kind to me, besides giving me that beautiful book, and I owe you amends for that unlucky mistake of mine on the hillside the other day."

"As to that, the mistake was mine, for I had no business there," replied Father John frankly. "I never should have thought of such a thing if I had not been worried into it by that pestilent sacristan of mine, who I wish was in Rome or farther away. He hath somehow—Just open that door, will you?"