At the end of a week he appeared again at the Clarks’, bringing the young girl with him.  He received the usual courteous but unenthusiastic reception with which they always met this man who had forced himself upon them so many times.  Now his eyes were sparkling and more nervously than ever he kept pushing back the lock of hair that hung over his forehead.

“Well, I’ve been away,” he began.

The Clarks said that they had heard so.

“I been to western Pennsylvania.”

His hearers expressed a lukewarm interest.

“I went to hunt up the records of Fayette County concerning the grandparents of Mary here.”

“I hope you were successful,” remarked the elder Miss Clark politely.

“Yes, ma’am, I was,” shouted Hapgood in reply, thumping his hand on the arm of his chair with a vigor that startled his hosts.  “Yes, sir, I was, sir; perfectly successful; en-tirely successful.”

Mr. Clark murmured something about the gratification the success must be to Mr. Hapgood and awaited the next outburst.

It came without delay.

“Do you want to know what I found out?”

“Certainly, if you care to tell us.”

“Well, I found out that Mary here is the granddaughter of your cousin, Emily Leonard, you been huntin’ for.”

“Mary!” exclaimed the elder Miss Clark startled, her slender hands fluttering agitatedly as the man’s heavy voice forced itself upon her ears and the meaning of what he said entered her mind.

“This child!” ejaculated the younger sister, Miss Eliza, doubtfully, adjusting her glasses and leaning over to take a closer look at the proposed addition to the family.

“Hm!”

This comment came from Mr. Clark.

A dull flush crept over Hapgood’s face.

“You don’t seem very cordial,” he remarked.

“O,” the elder Miss Clark, Miss Maria, began apologetically, but she was interrupted by her brother.

“You have the proofs, I suppose.”

Hapgood could not restrain a glare of dislike, but he drew a bundle of papers from his pocket.

“I knew you’d ask for ’em.”

“Naturally,” answered the calm voice of Mr. Clark.

“So I copied these from the records and swore to ’em before a notary.”

“You copied them yourself?”

“Yes, sir, with my own hand,” and the man held up that member as if to call it as a witness to his truth.

“I should have preferred to have had the copying done by a typist accredited by the county clerk,” said Mr. Clark coolly.

Hapgood flushed angrily.

“If you don’t believe me—­” he began, but Mr. Clark held up a warning finger.

“It’s always wise to follow the custom in such cases,” he observed.

Hapgood, finding himself in the wrong, leaned over Mr. Clark’s shoulder and pointed eagerly to the notary’s signature.

“Henry Holden—­that’s the notary—­that’s him,” he repeated several times insistently.