"IS THIS YOUR NIECE?"

Teddy Darrell was about to clasp the beautiful, weeping girl in his arms; but at her quick cry of alarm, he recoiled in amazement—not alone at her remonstrance, but because her voice was unlike that of Kathleen Carew.

Uncle Ben, who had also started forward in eager joy, drew back at the sound of the girl's voice, and the great detective looked from one face to the other in astonishment.

"Mr. Carew," he said at last, "is this your niece?"

"No," replied Uncle Ben.

"No," echoed Teddy Darrell.

"I told you so!" cried Daisy Lynn, with a radiant face; and Mr. Wren brought out the photograph.

"But this is her very face!" he exclaimed.

They agreed with him that it was wonderful—the likeness that existed between the girl and the picture—but they assured him that there were subtle differences in the features, and that the voices were quite unlike.

"Then I have to beg this young lady's pardon," said the great detective, rather crestfallen at his mistake; but he added, airily: "There's no harm done, anyhow."

"I beg your pardon, but there is," answered Daisy Lynn, her great, eager eyes brimming over with tears. "I have lost my situation with Mrs. Perkins through your mistake."

"Impossible!" he cried.

"It is, alas! too true," she answered, sadly. "Mrs. Perkins is a very high-tempered woman, and when I attempted to explain to her why I was going out so suddenly, she became terribly alarmed at the idea of my being carried off by a detective. She hinted broadly that I must have committed some dreadful crime, and discharged me on the spot."

"The wretch!" cried all three of the gentlemen in chorus, and Teddy, recalling his native gallantry, hastened to place a chair for the young girl.

"Pray sit down, miss," he began.

"Miss Daisy Lynn, permit me to present to you Mr. Carew and Mr. Darrell," said the detective.

Daisy bowed as she sunk into the chair; but Teddy Darrell stopped and stared as if he had seen a ghost.

"Daisy Lynn!" he echoed.

"Daisy Lynn!" cried Uncle Ben.

Both had heard the story of unfortunate Daisy Lynn, and explanations followed all around. The tender-hearted girl ceased weeping for herself to pity the fair young girl who had suffered so bitterly in her stead.

Then Jack Wren, who, now that everything was explained, no longer suspected Daisy of insanity, spoke his mind.

"I have made a great mistake," he said. "But I know that you will agree with me that it was very natural under the circumstances. I beg your pardon, and am ready to propose to you a plan by which to atone for my folly." She looked at him attentively, and he continued: "I have a very kind friend, a widow lady, who would be very glad to have you for a companion, I know. If you will permit me, I will take you to this kind lady at once, and I am sure you will find it a more pleasant situation than teaching those Perkins cubs."

"It was not very pleasant," answered the girl, sadly; and when she saw how eager he was to atone for the trouble he had brought upon her, she accepted his offer with shy gratitude.

Taking a pleasant leave of Mr. Carew and Teddy, she withdrew with the detective, and they were driven immediately to—River Cottage.