"Who can have paid the money in?" questioned Doris.
"You will have to go to Doncaster to the bank, to see the manager, and ascertain who it is," said Mrs. Cameron.
"Yes," Bernard agreed, still looking very mystified.
"It may be some mistake of the bank's," suggested Mrs. Cameron. "It is dated all right for yesterday."
They were still wondering and conjecturing about the matter, when the sound of a carriage driving up to the door, followed by a loud peal of the door-bell, startled them.
Bernard went to the door, and, upon opening it, perceived, to his intense astonishment, his wife's father.
"Is Mr. Cameron in?" began the visitor, and then, recognising Bernard, he cried, "Bernard! My dear fellow, I am glad you are at home."
"Mr. Anderson!" exclaimed Bernard. "Mr. Anderson here!"
"Father! Father!" cried Doris, overhearing Bernard's greeting, and running into her father's arms. "My dear father!" Forgotten were all his shortcomings, his desertion of herself and appropriation of Bernard's money, forgotten was everything except love in that glad moment of reunion. "Where is mother?" asked Doris, kissing him again and again.
"In the cab, there." He waved his hand towards the vehicle, out of which Mrs. Anderson was leaning forward, in the endeavour to obtain a glimpse of her child.