Hedgerly arose carefully. "I am Joseph Hedgerly, your grandson." Joan looked at Peter and laughed heartily. "Peter Faust Hedgerly. Having a thirty-odd year grandson is quite a record for such as you," she told him. "You will only be thirty-two next birthday." Peter turned to the other angrily. "Can it," he snapped. "Grandson my ankle!" "I am your grandson." "Yeah ... sure. Shall I call the cops now?" "You could, but you will not." "Oh spinach!" Peter headed for the phone again but the stranger said, quietly, "Might listen to me, Peter." Peter stopped, turned, and said: "Explain—and explain fast!" "You are a physicist with the Abstract Laboratory at Chicago. You also tinker in your study here. Your son—my father—will take up home-tinkering also, and your son's son—myself—will eventually discover the secret of time travel. I've done this. I am now here to see that things evolve with a minimum of effort." Peter shrugged. "You could have saved your time," he said. "If you'd not interfered, I'd have asked Miss Willson to marry me." "That's the point," smiled Hedgerly. "You see, Peter, my grandmother's name was not Willson, nor Joan. Peter Hedgerly—according to the family history—married a girl by the name of Marie Baker." "Never heard of her," grunted Peter. "You will," smiled Hedgerly. He turned to Joan. "I'm sorry," he told her. "I have nothing against you: in fact you appear to be of the finest. You will naturally understand there is nothing personal in any of this. It is merely a matter of historic fact that Peter will marry Marie Baker." "Mr. Hedgerly," she said, "I dislike you thoroughly. Furthermore, I'm not too certain that history is as solid as you think. Until further notice, then, I hereby accept Peter's sidelong proposal of a moment ago." "Joan!" cried Peter running forward and folding the girl in his arms. "Very fetching," observed Hedgerly with the air of a man observing the antics of a couple of goldfish in the proverbial bowl. "Considerable boundless and mutual enthusiasm, but both
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