od, and Charlotte, who had heard of Uncle Sandy during all her
early days, who had seen her mother's eyes filling with tears when she
mentioned him, felt now that for her mother's sake she could not make
enough of this newly recovered relation. His rough, honest, kindly
nature was finding its way too, very straight, to her heart. There was
nothing innately common or vulgar about Uncle Sandy. Charlotte was a
keen observer of character, and she detected the ring of the true metal
within.

"To think I should have mistaken my uncle for some one going to see
after the drawing-rooms!" she said after a pause.

"Ay, lass, you looked fairly dazed when I came up with my hand stretched
out, hoping for a kiss," he said; "but no wonder: I never reckoned that
that little maid-servant of yours would have told you nothing--nothing
whatever. But what is that about drawing-rooms? You don't mean to tell
me that you, Daisy Wilson's child, let lodgings?"

The color flew into Charlotte's pale, proud face.

"We do not need all the room in this house, so I generally have some one
in the drawing-room," she answered--"the drawing-room and the bedroom
beyond."

"Are your rooms free now, Charlotte?"

"No; but in a week they will be."

"Suppose you let the old uncle have them? I will pay any rent you like
to ask. The fact is, I have lost my whole heart to that little Daisy of
yours. I want to be near the child. I won't spoil her more than I can
help."

"Then I _was_ called down to my drawing-room lodger," answered Charlotte
with a faint sweet smile.

"Yes, and I don't expect he will want to leave in a hurry. The fact is I
have been so utterly friendless and homeless for such a number of years,
that it is _nearly_ as good as finding Daisy to be with her child. But,
my dear lass, you will forgive a frank old man asking you a frank
question. It's all moonshine about the house being too big for you.
These houses are not so very monstrous, to judge by the looks of them.
You have three children, so you tell me; if you let two rooms you must
be a bit crippled, put as good a face on it as you will."

"We also want the money. The want of the help this brings in, in the
matter of rent, is our true reason for letting," replied Charlotte. "You
see, Uncle Sandy, my husband is a clergyman--a clergyman and curate.
Such men are never over-burdened with money."

Sandy Wilson had small, penetrating, but very bright blue eyes; they
were fixed now earnes