injustice.

Indeed she _had_ done him injustice, for that estimable little man went
about his inquiries after the lost Sammy with a lump as big as a walnut
on the top of his head, and with a degree of persistent energy that
might have made the superintendent himself envious.

"Not been at the office for two days, sir!" exclaimed Mr Twitter,
repeating--in surprised indignation, for he could not believe it--the
words of Sammy's employer, who was a merchant in the hardware line.

"No, sir," said the hardware man, whose face seemed as hard as his ware.

"Do--you--mean--to--tell--me," said Twitter, with deliberate solemnity,
"that my son Samuel has not been in this office for _two days_?"

"That is precisely what I mean to tell you," returned the hardware man,
"and I mean to tell you, moreover, that your son has been very irregular
of late in his attendance, and that on more than one occasion he has
come here drunk."

"Drunk!" repeated Twitter, almost in a shout.

"Yes, sir, drunk--intoxicated."

The hardware man seemed at that moment to Mr Twitter the hardest-ware
man that ever confronted him. He stood for some moments aghast and
speechless.

"Are you aware, sir," he said at last, in impressive tones, "that my son
Samuel wears the blue ribbon?"

The hardware man inquired, with an expression of affected surprise, what
that had to do with the question; and further, gave it as his opinion
that a bit of blue ribbon was no better than a bit of red or green
ribbon if it had not something better behind it.

This latter remark, although by no means meant to soothe, had the effect
of reducing Mr Twitter to a condition of sudden humility.

"There, sir," said he, "I entirely agree with you, but I had believed--
indeed it seems to me almost impossible to believe otherwise--that my
poor boy had religious principle behind his blue ribbon."

This was said in such a meek tone, and with such a woe-begone look as
the conviction began to dawn that Sammy was not immaculate--that the
hardware man began visibly to soften, and at last a confidential talk
was established, in which was revealed such a series of irregularities
on the part of the erring son, that the poor father's heart was crushed
for the time, and, as it were, trodden in the dust. In his extremity,
he looked up to God and found relief in rolling his care upon Him.

As he slowly recovered from the shock, Twitter's brain resumed its
wonted activity.

"You have a n