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."

Then, without another word, he hurried away.

Quickly this big, rough man, who had nearly knocked down Jasper Harman
the night before, hurried through the park. The exultation had died out
of his face; his heart had ceased to beat wildly. Little Daisy's pretty
figure was still before his eyes; but, weatherbeaten and lifebeaten man
that he was, he found himself looking at it through a mist of tears.
"'Tis a bit of a shock," he said to himself. "I'll take it quietly, of
course. Sandy Wilson learned long ago to take everything quietly; but
it's a rare bit of a shock. I never guessed as my little Daisy would
die. Five and twenty years since we met, and all that time I've never
once clasped the hand of a blood-relation--never had one belonging to
me. I thought I was coming back to Daisy, and Daisy has died. She was
very young to die--quite five years younger than me. A pretty, pretty
lass; the little 'un is her image. How odd I should have knocked up
against Daisy's grandchild, and should find her out by the likeness.
Well, well, I'll call at 10, Tremins Road. I'll call, of course; not
that I care much now, as my little sister Daisy Wilson is dead."

He pressed his hand before his eyes; they felt weak and dim. The rough
man had got a considerable shock; he did not care to look at London
sights again to-day; he returned to the Commercial Hotel in the Strand,
where for the present he was s