"That story sounds as if they had," answered Farquhar; "but the Government isn't eager to settle claims--and you never know what will be unearthed. If Judge De Willoughby had not been such a blatantly open old opposer of his neighbour's political opinions these people wouldn't have a shadow of a chance." "By Jupiter!" exclaimed Rutherford, delightedly; "he was persecuted-- persecuted." "It was a good thing for his relatives," said Farquhar. "Did you say the people had come to Washington?" "All three of them," answered the Judge, and this time his tone was exultant; "Tom, and Sheba, and Rupert. They've rented some little rooms out near Dupont Circle." "I should like to be taken to see them," said Farquhar, reflectively. "I should like to have a look at Big Tom De Willoughby." "Would you?" cried the Judge. "Why, nothing would suit me better--or them either, for that matter. I'll take you any day you say--any day." "It ain't the easiest thing in the world to put a claim through," said Farquhar. "It means plenty of hard knocks and hard work and anxiety. Do you know that?" "I don't know anything about it," answered the Judge. "But I'm going to get this one through if there's a way of doing it." "You'll be misunderstood and called names and slandered," said Farquhar, regarding his rugged, ingenuous face with some curiosity. "There may be people--even in Hamlin County--who won't believe you are not up to some big deal. What are you doing it for?" "Why, for Tom and Sheba and Rupert," said the Judge, in an outburst of neighbourliness. "That's folks enough to do it for, ain't it? There's three of 'em--and I'd do it for ary one--as we say in Barnesville," in discreet correction of the colloquialism. Farquhar laughed a little, and put a hand on his shoulder as they moved away together. "I believe you would," he said; "perhaps that sort of thing is commoner in Barnesville than in Washington. I believe you would. Take me to see the claimants to-morrow." CHAPTER XXVII When Judge Rutherford piloted him up the broad, unpaved avenue towards the small house near Dupont Circle, the first objects which caught Farquhar's gaze were two young people standing among the unkempt rose and syringa bushes in the little front garden. The slim grace and bloom of their youth would have caught any eye. They were laughing happily, and the girl held a branch of rosy blossoms in her hand. "Are they the claimants?" Farquhar enquired. "One of them is," answered Rutherford. "But Sheba--Sheba counts somehow." Sheba looked at the stranger with the soft gaze of deer-like eyes when he was presented to her. There was no shyness in her woodland smile. "Judge Rutherford," she said, "Uncle Matt has come--Rupert's Matt, you know. We can't help laughing about it, but we can't help being happy." The boyish Southern face at her side laughed and glowed. Matt represented to Rupert the Lares and Penates his emotional nature required and had been denied.