f "Spud," "Hardy & Co.," "Rob
Archer's Trials," "Limpy Joe," "Harry
Irving's Pluck," etc., etc., etc.

CHAPTER XXVII.

Some Plain Talk.

The evening after Tony's return with the money was a very joyful one for
Job Loring. He was continually praising his second son, much to the
disgust of the first, and really seemed to have recovered all of his
habitual cheerfulness.

He never once mentioned Tony's prospects; his own were assured, that was
enough for him.

As the evening wore away he gravitated toward Aaron. There was really
much in common between the man, whose one idea of power was mere
physical strength, and his rawboned son, so closely allied to him by
disposition.

Job Loring was not a cruel man, nor yet did he mean to be an unjust one.
In his rude way his family was dear to him. Of course, the larger the
object, the more love could be bestowed upon it.

To Tony, with his fine, sensitive nature, inherited from his mother's
side of the family, these grosser qualities were far from being
attractive, and his companionship with Morrison had opened his eyes to a
new creation.

So it was with a feeling of relief that he saw his father turn to his
elder brother, and the cloud lifted from the sullen face of the latter.

Long before nine o'clock the next morning Tony was on his way to
Ashville. He found Morrison in the store, and the latter exclaimed, as
soon as his eyes fell upon the pale face of the little fellow:

"Why, Tony, what ails you? You look as though you hadn't a friend in the
world."

Tony made an effort to look happy, but did not wholly succeed. He
glanced into the office, near which they were standing, and saw a stout
man talking with Mr. Smart.

"That's my father," said Morrison, as he noticed the direction of Tony's
glance. "He arrived this morning. I'll introduce you when he comes out.
He was quite interested in you. Here he is now."

As he said this, Morrison turned to the gentleman who had just emerged
from the office.

"Father, this is the boy I was telling you of--Tony Loring. Tony, let me
make you acquainted with my father, Mr. Morrison."

Tony nearly sank to the floor as he felt his hand grasped by that of the
stout man, while a pair of dark eyes scanned him keenly.

"I had some curiosity to meet you," said Mr. Morrison, after his
scrutiny, "as my son has a habit of picking up some rather peculiar
friends. In this instance, I think