with a faint smile, which made
poor Hal blush again.

"Oh, I trust you get the bonds back for papa," cried Laura. "If you do,
I'll be friends with you for life."

"It's a whack--I mean a bargain," returned Hal, and then both laughed.

"But you haven't told me why you did not mention the matter to me,
papa," went on Laura, turning to Horace Sumner.

"I did not wish to worry you, pet. Since your mother died you have had
enough on your shoulders running the household."

"And haven't you had more than your share, papa, with troubles in the
office, and trying to find a trace of baby Howard?"

"I have given up all hopes of ever learning of the fate of my little
boy," sighed Mr. Sumner, and as he spoke a tear stole down his cheek,
which he hastily brushed away.

CHAPTER XXIII.

HAL'S BOLD SCHEME.

Hal could not help but feel a keen interest in the conversation between
Mr. Sumner and his daughter. Evidently there was some deep family sorrow
behind the words that had been uttered.

He stood respectfully by until Laura turned to him suddenly.

"Excuse me, but I suppose I interrupted you when I came in."

"No, I had about finished," replied Hal. "You have no further
instructions?" he continued, turning to Mr. Sumner.

"No, save that you must keep from trouble, Hal."

"I will keep my eyes open, sir."

"Then that is all."

"For the present, you will get along without me in the office, I hope."

"Yes. The new book-keeper is a very rapid man, and we shall not attempt
to do anything more until Mr. Allen and I dissolve partnership."

"Then I will go. Good-day, Miss Sumner," and with a deep bow Hal
withdrew.

"What a nice young man!" murmured Laura, as the outer door closed.

"He is little more than a boy, pet," said her father. "That mustache he
wears is a false one."

"Why, papa?"

"He is playing a part. He is a very smart young man."

"I am glad to hear it. Where did you meet him?"

"It was he who saved my life the night I told you of."

"Indeed! That was grand of him. But, papa," Laura's voice grew serious,
"these missing bonds--are they going--going to ruin you?"

Horace Sumner turned away.

"If they are not recovered, yes," he answered, in a low tone.

"My poor papa!"

"They are worth seventy-nine thousand dollars, and that, coupled with
some bad investments made through Allen, will send me to the wall."

"Can nothing be done to get the bonds back?"

"I am doing everything I can. Bes