No, no! you can't carry it in your hand. Here!" He tore a strip from his
handkerchief, knotted it around the little package, and tied it under
her doll's skirts. "Be careful of it, dear. They're not of great value,
but they were your mother's."

While he was speaking, Anne stood dazed. The world seemed upside down.
Could that rough-bearded man in shabby clothes be handsome, fastidious
Uncle Carey? Ah! there was the dear loving voice, there were the dear
loving eyes. She threw her arms around her uncle and he pressed her
close while she kissed him again and again.

"Uncle Carey," she cried, "I've wanted you so bad. But why do you look
so--so different? What makes all that hair on your face? It--it isn't
pretty and it scratches my cheek." She rubbed the reddened skin with her
forefinger.

"You must not tell any one that you have seen me. Not any one. Do you
understand?" her uncle spoke hurriedly. "If people find out that I am
here, they will hunt me up and put me in prison."

"Not Mrs. Patterson, uncle, nor Pat, nor Miss Drayton. They are too
good. Mayn't I tell them?"

"No, no!"

"Uncle! they wouldn't hurt you. And it's such hard work to keep a
secret."

"Ah, poor child! And it may be a long, long time," considered Mr. Mayo.
Then he asked suddenly, "Where are you going from here? Do you know