."

"Oh, was anything so exactly like the _Family Herald_," thought Anne as
she drove away.

Uncle Sandy then went to a large West End furniture shop, and chose some
sensible and nice furniture. The drawing-room alone he left untouched,
for he could not pretend to understand how such a room should be rigged
out--that must be Charlotte's province. But the nice large dining-room,
the bedrooms, the stairs and hall, were made as sweet and gay and pretty
as the West End shopman, who had good taste and to whom Uncle Sandy gave
carte blanche, could devise. Finally, on Saturday, he went to a
florist's and from there filled the windows with flowers, and Anne had
orders to abundantly supply the larder and store-room; and now at last,
directions being given for tea, the old man went off to meet his niece,
her husband and her children, to conduct them to their new home.

"Oh, we did have such a time," said Harold, as, brown as a berry, he
looked up at his old great-uncle. "Didn't we, Daisy?" he added,
appealing to his small sister, who clung to his hand.

"Ess, but we 'onted 'oo, Uncle 'Andy," said the small thing, looking
audaciously into his face, which she well knew this speech would please.

"You're just a dear, little, darling duck," said Sandy, taking her in
his arms and giving her a squeeze. But even Daisy could not quite
monopolize him at this moment. All the success of his scheme depended on
the next half-hour, and as they all drove back to Kentish Town, Sandy on
the box-seat of the cab, and the father, mother, and three children
inside, his heart beat so loud and hard, that he had to quiet it with
some sharp inward admonitions.

"Sandy Wilson, you old fool!" he said to himself more than once; "you
have not been through the hardships of the Australian bush to be afraid
of a moment like this. Keep yourself quiet; I'm ashamed of you."

At last they drew up at the address Sandy had privately given. How
beautiful the new house looked! The hall door stood open, and Anne's
smiling face was seen on the threshold. The children raised a shout at
sight of her and the flowers, which were so gay in the windows. Mr. Home
in a puzzled kind of way was putting out his head to tell the cabby that
he had made a mistake, and that he must just turn the corner. Charlotte
was feeling a queer little sensation of surprise, when Uncle Sandy, with
a face almost purple with emotion, flung open the door of the cab, took
Daisy in his arms, and