Mr. Loring looked thoughtful.
"I have been harsh with him sometimes, I s'pose, and I've said lot's o' things ag'in the rich folks that I hadn't orter. There's one decent one, anyway."
"Who's that?" his wife wanted to know.
"Mr. Morrison."
Tony came into the room at this moment, and caught the sound of the name.
"What of him?" he asked.
Then Job Loring told his story:
"That chap who was here to-day worked with me'n Aaron, over on Scaly Brook last winter, and the land we trespassed on belonged to this Mr. Morrison. I didn't know it at the time. Morrison was away, but a lawyer in Ashville advised Smart to take the hull lot o' logs, 'cause they was forfeited. But there was one landin', or brow of logs, that could be proved as come off of our permit, every stick of it, though I didn't know it. This brow was in the way of the others, and some o' the boys attached it for their wages. Then they sent this red-whiskered man through to see what Morrison was going to do about it. He came home himself and agreed to pay every man, and to-day we got it."
Then he turned to Tony.
"How much did you make last winter?" he asked.