Guy was pleased with the prospect of a return to America, especially as it was but for a short time. He would not have liked to feel that his journeyings were over, and he was to go back there permanently.

He had been some months away from his home in Bayport, and during this time he had not heard anything from his father or the friends he left behind.

He felt that he had been remarkably successful. He left Bayport a raw boy, and now, after six months, he represented a wealthy merchant in Bombay, was worth a considerable sum in money, and had a prospect of continued employment at a good salary.

He had not thought much of it till now, but as the day of his sailing for New York approached he began to be anxious about his father’s health. He also troubled himself lest rumors might have come to him about disaffection in the parish, and the schemes of Deacon Crane to oust him from the position he had so long and so honorably held, and to put in his place a younger man.

While Guy is on the Atlantic, speeding for home on the good steamer Etruria, we will precede him and let the reader know how matters are going on in Bayport.

Deacon Crane had gathered at his house three or four members of the church one Thursday evening, and was seeking to bring them over to his views on parish matters.

“I tell you what, Brother Ainsworth,” said he, addressing the village storekeeper, “it’s time we had a change in the minister. Mr. Fenwick is behind the times. He isn’t a hustler. Why, the parish is at a standstill. There are not more members than there were five years ago.”

“That may be, Deacon Crane, but Bayport itself has been at a standstill. I don’t believe the population has increased twenty-five in those five years.”

“Mebbe not, mebbe not; but the parson is feeding us on husks instead of rich spiritual food.”

“I think you are prejudiced, Deacon Crane,” said Jackson Butler, a farmer, and one of the parish committee. “Mr. Fenwick is an able man, and none of the ministers he exchanges with gives us a better sermon than he. One of my friends from New Bedford attended church with me last Sunday, and expressed himself as highly edified with our minister’s sermon.”

“I apprehend,” said the deacon, “that it is more important that he should please the members of his own flock than the stray sheep who attend church occasionally from other folds.”

“Still the verdict of an intelligent outsider carries weight.”

“I tell you I want a change,” said the deacon, with emphasis. “I want some bright, young man that’ll make a stir.”

“Do you think there are many that feel that way, deacon?”

“Not a doubt of it.”

“Who, for instance?”

“Well,” said the deacon, after a pause, “Mr. Bucklin, for instance.”

“Bucklin seldom goes to church, and last year he contributed but five dollars toward the minister’s salary.”

“Exactly so. Get a young man, and Bucklin would attend regularly, and pay a larger sum toward the church expenses.”

“He might double his subscription, but that would not amount to much,” said Mr. Ainsworth. “Now I pay fifty dollars, and I think I have a larger claim to consideration than Silas Bucklin.”

“To be sure, to be sure! But we want to put aside our own preferences and consult for the general good.”

“Do you do that, Deacon Crane?” asked Mr. Ainsworth, pointedly.

“Yes, sir! yes, sir!”

“You are prejudiced against the minister.”

“No, sir; I am only considering what will be for the good of the parish.”

“You object, then, to the minister’s sermons? Is that all?”

“No, Brother Ainsworth. I object to Mr. Fenwick as a family man.”

“That’s something new. What is your objection?”

“Well, you see, he’s let his son Guy go off on a wildgoose chase to the other end of the world. Instead of keeping him at home to complete his education, or go into a store, he’s let him sail to India with Captain Grover.”

“That reminds me,” said Enoch Slade, the village carpenter. “Captain Grover arrived home yesterday.”

“Then where is Guy Fenwick? Nothing has been seen of him in the village.”

“He didn’t come home with the captain.”

“Didn’t come home?” repeated Deacon Crane, in amazement. “Where is he?”

“He stayed in Bombay. I believe he got something to do there.”

“Well, that beats all I ever heard,” said the deacon, severely. “It shows just what sort of a bringing up the boy has had. The minister ought to have known better than to have let him leave home. Guy was always self-willed. My son Noah never liked him.”

This didn’t impress the deacon’s visitors as much as he anticipated, for Noah Crane was by no means an object of admiration in the village. He was generally considered sly and mean, while Guy was a universal favorite.

“I always liked Guy, myself,” said Mr. Ainsworth. “He is a good scholar and a good boy. I do hope he will come out all right.”

“It ain’t hardly to be expected, Brother Ainsworth. The boy has always had his own way. You wouldn’t catch me letting my Noah go off to the other end of the world.”

“What did Captain Grover think of Guy remaining behind?” asked Mr. Ainsworth.

“He thought it was a good plan. Guy had a position with a leading English merchant in that city.”

“You’ll see him coming home before the mast as a common sailor, mark my words,” said the deacon. “As I was saying, the minister ought to set a good example to his people in the way of family discipline; but you see what he’s done. Suppose we all followed his example?”

“I think Guy will come out all right,” observed Enoch Slade.

“I don’t.”

“What would you have done with him?”

“I’d have put him into a store, or had him learn a trade; that’s what I would have done.”

“Mr. Fenwick was anxious to have him go to college,” suggested Enoch Slade.

“What was the objection?”

“He couldn’t afford it. You know Mr. Fenwick’s salary is only a thousand dollars a year, and he has an aged aunt whom he helps. So it was quite impossible for him to afford the expense.”

“All the more reason for keeping Guy at home and setting him to work. Now if I chose to send Noah to college, I could afford it,” added the deacon, proudly.

“Why don’t you do it, then?” asked Mr. Ainsworth.

“Noah doesn’t care to go. He wants to be a business man.”

“I wouldn’t give him a place in my store,” thought Ainsworth, “if he would work for nothing.”

Of course he didn’t say this.

On the whole, Deacon Crane didn’t find as much sympathy as he expected in his opposition to the minister, but he succeeded in converting half a dozen heads of families to his views. They were not persons of much importance, but, instigated by the deacon, they talked a good deal, and managed to convey the impression that there was really considerable dissatisfaction with Mr. Fenwick.

Finally, Deacon Crane thought the time had come to call upon the minister, and let him know how matters stood, or rather how he wished matters to stand.

So one evening he took his cane, and made his way to the parsonage.

Mr. Fenwick was at work upon his sermon for the coming Sunday, but he laid down his pen and greeted the deacon cordially.

“I hear that your son hasn’t come home on the Osprey, Brother Fenwick,” the deacon began.

“No. It’s a disappointment to me. I have missed him sadly.”

“It seems to me it was a very risky thing to let him go off so far.”

“He was very anxious to go, and I thought it might be an education to him. I would like, myself, to see more of the great world.”

“Of course that’s one way to look at it, but there ain’t many boys that can be trusted so far away. I was amazed at his not coming home. What does the captain say?”

“He says that Guy made a good friend, and he is earning enough to pay his expenses.”

“Then you approve of his staying?”

“I hardly know what to think. Guy is a good boy, and I think he can be trusted.”

Deacon Crane coughed.

A cough is very significant sometimes. The deacon’s cough indicated incredulity of a very decided character.

“Mebbe, mebbe,” he said; “but that isn’t the way I would have managed with my boy.”

“What would have been your course?” asked Mr. Fenwick, mildly.

“I would have set Guy to work. He is old enough to be a help to you.”

“He is earning his living.”

“True, if he keeps his place. Suppose he gets discharged?”

“The captain says that is not likely.”

“Mebbe, mebbe; but I didn’t come here to discuss your son, parson. I have a weightier matter to speak of.”

“Go on, Brother Crane, I am ready to listen to you.”