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."