Up with
thy head, boy, an' be acquitted o' weakness an' fear an' evil
passion."
"We deserve better of him," said Trove, speaking of Riley Brooke.
"When all others hated him, we were kind to the old sinner, and it
has done him no good."
"Ah, but has it done thee good? There's the question," said
Darrel, his hand upon the boy's arm.
"I believe it has," said Trove, with a look of surprise.
"It was thee I thought of, boy; I had never much thought o' him."
That moment Trove saw farther into the depth of Darrel's heart than
ever before. It startled him. Surely, here was a man that passed
all understanding.
Darrel crossed to his bench and began to wind the clocks.
"Ho, Clocks!" said he, thoughtfully. "Know ye the cars have come?
Now must we look well to the long hand o' the clock. The old,
slow-footed hour is dead, an' now, boy, the minute is our king."
He came shortly and sat beside the young man.
"Put away thy unhappiness," said he, gently, patting the boy's
hand. "No harm shall come to thee--'tis only a passing cloud."
"You're right, and I'm not going to be a fool," said Trove. "It
has all brought me one item of good fortune."
"An' that is?"
"I have discovered who is my father.
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