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. You are her dear little daughter, and your name is Daisy Harman. Well, I'm right, ain't I?" The man's face was now crimson, and he only waited for Daisy's reply to clasp her to his breast. But Daisy, in high delight at his mistake, clapped her pretty hands. "No, no," she said, "you're quite wrong. Guess again, guess again." Instantly his interest and excitement died out. He pushed the child a trifle away, and said,-- "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
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