"I made a mistake. I can't guess."
"I'm Daisy Home," replied Daisy, "and my mamma was never no Daisy Wilson. Her name is Sarlotte Home."
The stranger put Daisy gently from his lap, and the discovery which was to affect so many people might never have been made but for Anne, who read the Family Herald, was burning with anxiety and wonder. Many kinds of visions were flashing before her romantic young eyes. This man might be very rich—very, very rich. He must have something to say to them all. She had long ago identified herself with the Home family. This man was coming to give them gold in abundance. He was not so beautiful to look at, but he might be just as valuable as the pretty lady of Harold's dreams. That pretty lady had not come back, though Anne had almost prayed for her return. Yes, she was sure this man was a relation. It was highly probable. Such things were always happening in the Family Herald. Raising her shrill, high-pitched voice, she exclaimed,—
"Miss Daisy, you're too young to know, or may be you furgets. But I think the gen'leman is near right. Yer mamma's name wos Harman afore she married yer papa, missy, and I ha' seen fur sure and certain in some old books at the house the name o' Daisy Wilson writ down as plain as could be, so maybe that wor yer grandma's name afore she married too."
At these words the stranger caught Daisy up and kissed her.
"I thought that little face could only belong to one related to Daisy Wilson," he said. "Little one, put yer arms round me. I'm your great-uncle—your great-uncle! I never thought that Daisy Wilson could have a daughter married, and that that daughter could have little ones of her own. Well, well, well, how time does fly! I'm your grandmother's brother—Sandy Wilson, home from Australia, my little pet; and when shall I see you all? It does my old heart good to see my sister over again in a little thing like you."
"My great-uncle?" repeated Daisy. She was an affectionate little thing, and the man's agitation and delight so far touched her baby heart as to induce her to give him one very slight, dainty kiss. Then she sidled down to the ground.
"Ef you please, sir," said Anne again, who felt absolutely certain that she had now made the fortune of her family, and who thought that that fact ought to be recognised—"ef you please, sir, 'tis but right as you should know as my missis's mother have long bin dead. My missis as is her living model is away, and won't be back afore Thursday. She's down by the seaside wid Master Harold wot' ad the scarlet fever, and wor like to die; and the fam'ly address, please sir, is 10, Tremins Road, Kentish Town."
At the news of his sister's death so curtly announced by Anne, the man's rough, weatherbeaten face grew white. He did not touch Daisy again, or even look at little Angus; but going up to Anne, he slipped a sovereign into her hand.
"Take those children safely home now," he said; "the day is turning chilly, and—and—thank you for what you told me of, my good lass. I'll come and see your missis on Thursday night."