d her, and done all in his power to make her happy, whatever she
had proved to be. And then, how glad he was that she had found her way
into his heart before he knew she was his child.

Great, indeed, was the joy of "the Golden Shoemaker!" That very day he was
to clasp his long-lost child to his heart!

The door of his room had been left ajar. Presently he heard the front-door
open downstairs; and then there were voices in the hall, one of which he
recognised as hers. The next moment he knew that she was coming upstairs.
They had not told her the great news yet, of course? No; she was going
direct to her own room.

He took up the little shoes, which had been left lying on the bed. How
well he remembered making them! He had selected for the purpose the very
best bit of leather in his stock. He was proceeding to examine more
closely the shoe that had been mutilated, when he heard the sound of a
door being opened which he knew to be that of his young secretary's room.

Would she come to him before going downstairs? In truth, he wished not to
see her until she had been told the great news. He breathed more freely
when he heard her foot on the stairs.

When "Cobbler" Horn had been alone about half an hour, Miss Jemima
returned to the room. Mrs. Burton, she said, was in the dining-room,
with----Marian. There was just the slightest hesitation in Miss Jemima's
pronunciation of the name. Her brother's tea would come up in a few
minutes. After he had taken it, he would perhaps be ready for the
interview he so much desired.

"Tea!"

"Oh, but," said his matter-of-fact sister, "you must try to take it--as a
duty."

"I'll do my best," he said; "but I must be up and dressed before she
comes, Jemima."

Miss Jemima demurred, but ultimately agreed.

"I should like Mr. Durnford to be here," he continued, "and Tommy Dudgeon,
and Mr. and Mrs. Burton."

"They shall all be present," said Miss Jemima.

"And you, Jemima, you will take care to be in the room at the time."

"Brother," responded the lady, "you may trust me for that."

CHAPTER XLII.

FATHER AND DAUGHTER.

Mrs. Burton, closeted with her adopted daughter, in the dining-room,
found, to her surprise, that Miss Owen was not unprepared for the
communication she was about to receive. Since her discovery of the little
shoe--the fellow of her own--in her employer's safe, and the startling
conclusion at which sh