"The balance of your history I base on premise.Ford has been located in Chicago，where，with an ample supply of money，he is repeating his New York operations；but Harold Melville has never been heard of until this day.I think the true explanation is easily arrived at.Goaded by cupidity—and perhaps envy of your superior talents—Ford took advantage of the situation and，nding the automobile speeding along a deserted road，knocked you on the head，tumbled you out of the car，and made off with your combined winnings.The blowhad the effect—not so uncommon as you think—of destroying your recollection of your past life，and you have for two years been wandering in total ignorance of what caused your af？iction."During this recital Smith sat with his eyes eagerly fixed upon the speaker's face，dwelling upon every word.At theconclusion of the story he dropped his face in his hands a moment，visibly shuddering.Then again he looked up，and after reading the circle of pitying faces confronting him he bravely met Mr.Merrick's eyes.
"Sir，"he said in a voice that faltered in spite of his effortsto render it ？rm，"you now know who I am.When I ？rst came to you I was a mere irresponsible hobo，a wandering tramp who had adopted the name of Thursday Smith because he was ignorant of his own，but who had no cause to be ashamed of his manhood.To—day I am discovered in my true guise.As Harold Melville，the disreputable trickster，I am not fit to remain in your employ—to associate with honest men and women.You will forgive my imposition，I think，because you know how thoroughly ignorant I was of the truth；but I will impose upon you no longer.I am sorry，sir，for I have been happy here；but I will go，thanking you for the kindly generosity that prompted you to accept me as I seemed to be，not as I am."He rose，his face showing evidence of suffering，and bowed gravely.Hetty Hewitt walked over and stood by his side，laying her hand gently upon his arm.
But Thursday Smith did not know John Merrick very well.The little gentleman had silently listened，observing meanwhile the demeanor of the accused，and now he smiled in his pleasant，whimsical way and caught Smith's hand in both his own.
"Man，man ！"he cried，"you're misjudging both me and yourself，I don't know this fellow Melville.You don't know him，either.But I do know Thursday Smith，who has won my confidence and by his manly acts，and I'll stand by him through thick and thin！""I am Harold Melville—the gambler—the confidence man.""You're nothing of the sort，you're just Thursday Smith，and no more responsible for Harold Melville than I am.""Hooray！"exclaimed Patsy Doyle enthusiastically."Uncle'sright，Thursday.You're our friend，and the mainstay of theMillville Daily Tribune.We shall not allow you to desert us just because you've discovered that your—your—ancestor—wasn't quite respectable.""That's it，exactly，"asserted Beth."It's like hearing a taleof an ancestor，Thursday，or of some member of your family who lived before you.You cannot be responsible，in any way，for another man's wickedness.""As I look at it，"said Louise reflectively，"you are just two years old，Thursday，and innocent of any wrongdoing before that day you ？rst found yourself.""There's no use our considering Melville at all，"added UncleJohn cheerfully."I'm sorry we ever heard of him，except that in one way it clears up a mystery.Thursday Smith，we like you and trust you.Do not doubt yourself because of this tale.I'll vouch for your fairness and integrity.Forget Melville，whohas never really existed so far as any of us are concerned；be yourself，and count on our friendship and regard，which Thursday Smith has fairly won."Hetty was crying softly，her cheek laid against Thursday'ssleeve.The man stood as if turned to stone，but his cheeks were？ushed，his eyes sparkling，and his head proudly poised.
Fogerty lighted a fresh cigarette，watching the scene with an imperturbable smile.
Suddenly Smith awoke to life.He half turned，lookedwonderingly at Hetty，and then folded her thin form in his arms and pressed a kiss on her forehead.
Fogerty coughed.Uncle John jerked out his handkerchief and blew his nose like a bugle call.
The major's eyes were moist，for the old soldier wassympathetic as a child.But Patsy，a little catch in her voice，impulsively put her arms around the unashamed pair and murmured："I'm so glad，Hetty ！I'm so glad，Thursday ！But—dear me—aren't we going to have any paper to—morrow morning ？"That relieved the tension and everybody laughed.Thursday released Hetty and shook Uncle John's hand most gratefully.Then they all wanted to shake hands，and did until it came to Fogerty's turn.But now Smith drew back and looked askance ata the detective.
"I do not know you，Mr.McCormick，"he said withdignity.
"My name's not McCormick；it's Fogerty，"said the other，without malicea."I was simply testing your memory by claiming to be an old friend.Personally I never knew Harold Melville，but I'm mighty glad to make Thursday Smith's acquaintance and will consider it an honor if you'll shake my hand."Smith was too happy to refuse.He took Fogerty's hand.
