. 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