"No, but it puzzles me why you should be poor. When I left my little sister, she had been married about three months to that rich old Mr. Harman. He seemed devoted to her. He had surrounded her with wealth; and he assured me when I came to bid her good-bye, and she put her dear arms round my neck, that my little darling should never want for anything. He was a good old man, ages too old of course for my bright little Daisy. But it seemed better than leaving her as a governess. It was my one comfort when parting with Daisy, to feel that she could never want for anything that money could get her." "My mother has told me that during my father's life she lived as a rich woman," answered Charlotte. "That means she did not afterwards. Did the old gentleman die bankrupt? I don't see how he could, for he had retired from business." "No, my father died a very wealthy man." "Then he did not leave her well off! You don't surely mean to tell me, Charlotte Home, that that old man dared to do anything but leave a large sum of money to your pretty young mother and to you? Why, be told me with his own lips that he would make most ample provision for her." At these words Charlotte's white face grew yet whiter, and a piteous look of terror came into her eyes, but all she said was,-- "Nevertheless, after my father's death we were poor." "Oh! the scoundrel! 'Tis well he's out of Sandy Wilson's power. To think of my Daisy not profiting by his wealth at least. How much did he leave to your mother, Charlotte? "Nothing." "Nothing!" Here Uncle Sandy sprang to his feet. "Mr. Harman left my Daisy nothing--nothing whatever! Then he did die bankrupt?" "No, Uncle Sandy, he died rich." "And her name was not mentioned in the will?" "No." "Ah! there was a will. Have you seen it?" "No; why should I? It all happened long, long ago." "And your mother never saw the will?" "I don't think she did." "Then to whom, may I ask, did he leave all his wealth?" "You forget, Uncle Sandy, that my father was married before. He had two sons by his first marriage. These sons came in for his fortune. They were--they said they were, sorry for my mother, and they settled on her one hundred and fifty pounds a year for her life." "Ay, I suppose you have got that pittance now?" "No, it was only for my mother. When she died six years ago it ceased." Sandy Wilson began to pace up and down the little parlor. "Nothing left to Daisy. Daisy's name not mentioned in the will. Brothers sorry--pretend to be. Give my Daisy a pittance for her life--nothing to the child. Charlotte," he suddenly stopped in front of his niece, "don't you think you are a good bit of a fool?" "Perhaps I am, Uncle Sandy. But I never recognized the fact before." "You believe that story about the will?" "I tell you the tale as my own mother told it to me." "Ay, Daisy was always too credulous, a foolish little thing, if you like. But you--you are of different metal. You believe that story?"