“I wouldn’t give a cent,” said Mr. Tudor, with emphasis.

“Nor I,” said Deacon Gridley.  “I don’t believe in humorin’ the clergy.”

Saturday came, and the minister was worse.  It seemed doubtful if he would be able to officiate the next day.  No wonder he became dispirited.

Just before supper the stage drove up to the door, and Grant jumped out.

“I am afraid he has been discharged,” said Mr. Thornton, nervously.

“He does not look like it,” said Mrs. Thornton, noticing Grant’s beaming countenance.

“What is the matter with father?” asked Grant, stopping short as he entered.

“He is not feeling very well, Grant.  He has got run down.”

“What does the doctor say?”

“He says your father ought to take a three-months trip to Europe.”

“Which, of course, is impossible,” said Mr. Thornton, smiling faintly.

“Not if your brother would open his heart, and lend you the money.”

“He would not do it.”

“And we won’t ask him,” said Grant, quickly, “but you shall go, all the same, father.”

“My son, it would cost five hundred dollars.”

“And for twice as much, mother, could go with you; you would need her to take care of you.  Besides she needs a change, too.”

“It is a pleasant plan, Grant; but we must not think of it.”

“That’s where I don’t agree with you.  You and mother shall go as soon as you like, and I will pay the expenses.”

“Is the boy crazy?” said the minister.

“I’ll answer that for myself, father.  I have five thousand dollars in the Bowery Savings Bank, in New York, and I don’t think I can spend a part of it better than in giving you and mother a European trip.”

Then the explanation came, and with some difficulty the minister was made to understand that the dream of his life was to be realized, and that he and his wife were really going to Europe.

“Well, well! who’d have thought it?” ejaculated Deacon Gridley.  “That boy of the minister’s must be plaguey smart.  I never thought he’d be so successful.  All the same, it seems to me a mighty poor investment to spend a thousand dollars on racin’ to Europe.  That money would buy quite a sizable farm.”

Others, however, less narrow in their notions, heartily approved of the European trip.  When three months later the minister came home, he looked like a new man.  His eye was bright, his face bronzed and healthy, his step elastic, and he looked half a dozen years younger.

“This all comes of having a good son,” he said, smiling, in reply to congratulations, “a son who, in helping himself, has been alive to help others.”

Half a dozen years have passed.  Grant Thornton is now a young man, and junior partner of Mr. Reynolds.  He has turned his money to good account, and is counted rich for one of his age.  He has renewed his acquaintance with Miss Carrie Clifton, whom he met for the first time as a summer boarder in Colebrook, and from their intimacy it wouldn’t be surprising if Grant should some day become the wealthy jeweler’s son-in-law.