Clarence looked over his father's shoulder as he registered. "Why, pa," he exclaimed in surprise, "there's another guest of our name." "Where?" asked his father. "There, three names above your signature." Stephen Ray looked at the register, and started violently as he read the entry: ERNEST RAY, Oreville, California. "What's the matter, pa?" asked Clarence, noticing his father's agitation. "Oh, nothing, nothing," answered his father, with an effort. "Haven't we a cousin named Ernest Ray?" "We had, but he is dead." "It is strange that there should be another person of the name." "Not at all. The world is large, and there are probably a good many persons of one name." "This one is from California." "So I see. By the way," here Mr. Ray addressed the clerk, "did you observe the person who registered under the name of Ray?" "Yes. It is a boy about the size of this young gentleman." "It is strange!" said Clarence. "It may be our cousin." "Didn't I tell you that the person you refer to is dead?" said his father, testily. "I don't believe it," thought Clarence, but he did not express his unbelief. He determined, however, to have an interview with the boy, and find out for himself all about him. He saw Ernest at the table soon after, and so did Stephen Ray. The latter noted with alarm the resemblance of the boy to his cousin Dudley Ray, whose estate he had usurped. "I hope Bolton won't get hold of him." he said to himself. "It would be bad for me." After supper Mr. Ray went out, leaving Clarence to himself. He improved the opportunity. Seeing Ernest sitting alone, he went up to him. "Is your name Ray?" he asked. "Yes, Ernest Ray." "My name is Clarence Ray." "So I thought. We are cousins." "That's what I told pa, but he said it was not so--that Ernest Ray was dead." "Your father's name is Stephen Ray?" "Yes." "I have known of him and you since I was old enough to remember anything." "Then you are really my cousin Ernest?" "Yes." "I wonder why pa said you were dead. I will tell pa he is mistaken." "No, Clarence, I would rather you wouldn't. There are reasons why it is better not to say anything about it." "All right. Are you well off?" Ernest smiled. "I am not rich," he said, "but I am comfortably fixed." "Do you live in California?" "I have lived there for the last few months." "Why did you come East?" "On a little business." "I am glad you are well off. I think pa was afraid you were a poor relation." "Your father is rich?" "Yes, ever so rich. We've got a fine place near Elmira. If pa wasn't so cranky I would invite you there to visit me." "Thank you all the same," said Ernest, smiling. Later in the evening, when Stephen Ray came in, Ernest noticed that he looked at him critically. He, too, examined the man who, he had reason to believe, was enjoying the estates that should be his, and was not attracted towards him. "What will he say," thought Ernest, "when I make a formal demand for the property?"