"Have you not told her yet?" Mrs. Maple asked.
"No, but I shall do so to-morrow."
"Cannot you manage to bring her here to tea? It is father's eightieth birthday, you know, and he will want you and Una to taste his birthday cake. Oh, you must come, David!" Mrs. Maple said appealingly.
"I will certainly see if it can be managed in some way," he responded smiling.
"We will send the gig up to Coombe Villa to fetch you," the farmer offered hospitably.
"Thank you; if you do, we will certainly come. Una will be delighted, I know."
"Shall we call you Uncle David now?" Bessie asked, looking up into her new-found uncle's face, with shy, dark eyes.
"Yes, indeed you must, and Una is your cousin, remember. But my name is really Manners," he added, turning to Granfer. "It was my wife's maiden name, and on our marriage her father stipulated I should take his name on account of some property which had to come to his daughter at his death. He died seven years ago."
Mr. Manners remained some time longer, but at last he rose to leave, saying that Una would wonder what had become of him; and after he had gone a silence fell upon the little party in the farm-kitchen, which was broken only by Mrs. Maple remarking:
"I feel as though I must be dreaming! I cannot realise that he is really David—can you, father?"