"We have to be in the new house as snug as snug by Saturday night, my girl," he said in conclusion. "We have to bring away what is worth moving of this furniture, and it must all be clean and fresh, for a clean new house. And, look here, Anne, you can't do all the work; do you happen to know of a good, hard-working girl, who would come and help you, and stay altogether if Mrs. Home happened to like her, just a second like yourself, my lass?" "Oh, please, sir, please, sir," answered Anne, "there's my own sister, she's older nor me, and more knowing. She's real 'andy, and please, sir, she'd like it real awful well." "Engage her by all means," said Wilson, "go at once for her. See; where does she live? I will pay the cab fare." "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."