ss Harman and his
pretty lady are one and the same."

"Is that really so?" answered Mrs. Home. "Yes. I know that Charlotte
Harman is very attractive. Did I not tell you, Angus, that she had won
my own heart? But I confess when I saw those gifts and read her note I
felt angry. I thought after hearing my tale she should have done more.
These presents seemed to me in the light of a bribe."

"Charlotte!"

"Ah! I know you are shocked. You cannot see the thing with my eyes; that
is how they really looked to me."

"Then, my dear wife, may I give you a piece of advice?"

"That is what I am hungering for, Angus."

"Tell the whole story, as frankly--more frankly than you have told it to
me, to God to-night. Lay the whole matter in the loving hands of your
Father, then, Charlotte; after so praying, if in the morning you still
think Miss Harman was actuated by so mean a spirit, treat her as she
deserves. With your own hands deal the punishment to her, send
everything back."

Mrs. Home's face flushed very brightly, and she lowered her eyes to
prevent her husband seeing the look of shame which filled them. The
result of this conversation was the following note written the next
morning to Miss Harman.

I could not have thanked you last night for what you have done,
but I can to-day. You have won my children's little hearts. Be
thankful that you have made my dear little ones so happy. You ask
to see me again, Miss Harman. I do not think I can come to you, and
I don't ask you to come here. Still I will see you; name some
afternoon to meet me in Regent's Park and I will be there.

Yours,
CHARLOTTE HOME.

Thus the gifts were kept, and the mother tried to pray away a certain
soreness which would remain notwithstanding all her husband's words. She
was human after all, however, and Charlotte Harman might have been
rewarded had she seen her face the following Sunday morning when she
brought her pretty children down to their father to inspect them in
their new clothes.

Harold went to church that morning, with his mother, in a very
picturesque hat; but no one suspected quite how much it was worth, not
even those jealous mothers who saw it and remarked upon it, and wondered
who had left Mrs. Home a legacy, for stowed carefully away under the
lining was Charlotte Harman's bright, crisp, fifty-pound note.

CHAPTER XX.

TWO CHARLOTTES.

It was a week after; the very day, in fact,