"PROBABLE SONS"

BY

AMY LEFEUVRE

AUTHOR OF "CHERRY, " "THE ODD ONE, " ETC. 

"_A little child shall lead them_. "

1896

[Illustration: The Broken Statue. ]

CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER I. AN UNWELCOME LEGACY

CHAPTER II. DAVID AND GOLIATH

CHAPTER III. THE FIRST PUNISHMENT

CHAPTER IV. MRS. MAXWELL'S SORROW

CHAPTER V. A PRODIGAL

CHAPTER VI. A PROMISE KEPT

CHAPTER VII. CROSS-EXAMINATION

CHAPTER VIII. "HE AROSE AND CAME TO HIS FATHER"

CHAPTER IX. "A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM"

"PROBABLE SONS. "

 * * * * *

CHAPTER I. 

AN UNWELCOME LEGACY. 

"Children! They are a nuisance to everyone--my abomination, as you know, Jack. Why on earth they can not be kept out of sight altogether tillthey reach a sensible age is what puzzles me! And I suppose if anythingcould make the matter worse, it is that this is a girl. "

The tone of disgust with which the last word was uttered brought a laughfrom Sir Edward Wentworth's companion, who replied, as he took his cigarfrom his mouth and gazed critically into the worried, perplexed face ofhis host--

"My dear fellow, she is not of an age yet to trouble you much. Wait tillshe gets a bit older. When her education is finished, and she takespossession of you and your house, will be the time for you to look tous for pity!"

"Look here, Sir Edward, " said a bright looking youth from the other sideof the room, "I'll give you a bit of advice. Send the child straight offto school. Is she coming to-day? Good. Then pack her off to-morrow, andkeep her there as long as is needful. Then I will go down and inspecther, and if she grows up to be a moderately decent-looking girl, I willdo you a good turn by taking her off your hands. She will have a nicelittle fortune, you informed us, and if you will give her something inaddition, out of gratitude to me for relieving you of all responsibilityconcerning her, upon my word I think I should not do badly!"

But Sir Edward was not in a mood to joke. He looked gloomily around uponhis friends as they gathered around the smoking-room fire after a hardday's shooting, and remarked--

"I know what is before me. I have seen it in my sister's family, andhave heard something of all her toils and troubles. How thankful I waswhen she and hers were translated to Australia, and the sea came betweenus! It is first the nurses, who run off with one's butler, make love tothe keepers, and bring all kinds of followers about the house, whosometimes make off with one's plate. Then it's the governesses, who comeand have a try at the guests, or most likely in my case they would settheir affections on me, and get the reins of government entirely intotheir hands. If it is school, then there is a mass of correspondenceabout the child's health and training; and, in addition, I shall haveall the ladies in the neighborhood coming to mother the child and tellme how to train it. It is a bad look-out for me, I can tell you, and notone of you would care to be in my shoes. "

"What is the trouble, Ned?" asked a new-comer, opening the door andglancing at the amused faces of those surrounding Sir Edward, all ofwhom seemed to be keenly enjoying their host's perplexity. 

"He has received a legacy to-day, that is all, " was the response; "hehas had an orphan niece and nurse sent to him from some remote place inthe Highlands. Come, give us your case again, old fellow, for thebenefit of your cousin. "

Sir Edward, a grave, abstracted-looking man, with an iron-greymoustache and dark, piercing eyes, looked up with a desponding shake ofthe head, and repeated slowly and emphatically--

"A widowed sister of mine died last year, and left her little girl inthe charge of an old school friend, who has now taken a husband toherself and discarded the child, calmly sending me the followingletter:--

 'DEAR SIR: Doubtless you will remember that your sister's great desire on her death-bed was that you should receive her little one and bring her up under your own eye, being her natural guardian and nearest relative. Hearing, however, from you that you did not at that time feel equal to the responsibility, I came forward and volunteered to take her for a short while till you had made arrangements to receive her. I have been expecting to hear from you for some time, and as I have promised my future husband to fix the day for our marriage some time early next month, I thought I could not do better than send the child with her nurse to you without delay. She will reach you the day after you receive this letter. Perhaps you will kindly send me word of her safe arrival. Yours truly, ANNA KENT. '

Now, Lovell, what do you think of that? And sure enough, this afternoon, while we were out, the child and nurse appeared, and are in the houseat this present moment. Don't you think it a hard case for such aconfirmed bachelor as I am?"

"I do indeed, " was the hearty reply; "but I think you will find a wayout of it, Ned. Take a wife unto yourself, and she will relieve you ofall responsibility. "

There was a general laugh at this, but in the midst of it the doorslowly opened, and the subject of all this discussion appeared on thethreshold, a fragile little figure, with long, golden-brown hair, and apair of dark brown eyes that looked calmly and searchingly in front ofher. Clad in white, with her dimpled hands crossed in front of her, shestood there for a moment in silence, then spoke:--

"Where is my Uncle Edward?"

"Here, " replied Sir Edward, as he looked helplessly round, first at hisfriends and then at his small niece. 

The child stepped up to him with perfect composure, and held out herlittle hand, which her uncle took, undergoing all the while a severescrutiny from the pair of dark eyes fixed upon him. There was deadsilence in the room. Sir Edward's companions were delighting in thescene, and his great discomfiture only heightened their enjoyment. 

"Well, " he said at length, rather feebly, "I think you know the look ofme now, don't you? Where is your nurse? Ought you not to be in your bed?This is not the place for little girls, you know. "

"I was thinking you would kiss me, " and the child's lips began toquiver, while a pink flush rose to her cheeks, and she glanced wistfullyround, in the hope of seeing some sympathetic face near her. 

But Sir Edward could not bring himself to do this. Laying his hand onthe curly head raised to his, he patted it as he might his dog, andsaid, --

"There, there! Now you have introduced yourself to me, you can run away. What is your name? Millicent, isn't it?"

"Milly is my name. And are all these gentlemen my uncles too?"

The tone of doubtful inquiry was too much for the little company, andMilly's question was answered by a shout of laughter. 

Again the child's face flushed, and then a grey-haired man steppedforward. 

"Come, Wentworth, this is a severe ordeal for such a mite. I havegrandchildren of my own, so am not so scared as you. Now, little one, isthat better?"

And in an instant the child was lifted by him and placed upon his kneeas he took a seat by the fire. 

Milly heaved a short sigh. 

"I like this, " she said, looking up at him confidingly. "Does UncleEdward really want me to go to bed? Nurse said it wasn't time yet. Nursewanted her supper, so she sent me in here while she had it. "

"The reign of the nurse has begun, " said Sir Edward. "Well, it may be avery fine joke to all you fellows, but if I don't make my authority feltat once, it will be all up with me. Lovell, be so good as to ring thatbell. "

Sir Edward's voice was irate when his old butler appeared. 

"Ford, take this child to her nurse, and tell her that she is never toappear in my presence again unless sent for. Now, Millicent, go atonce. "

The child slid down from her seat, but though evidently puzzled at thequick, sharp words, she seemed to have no fear, for, going up to heruncle, she slipped her little hand into his. 

"Are you angry, uncle? What does 'presence' mean? Will you say, 'Good-night; God bless you, ' to me?"

With the baby fingers clinging to his, what could Sir Edward say?

"Good-night; good-night, child! Now go. "

"Say, 'God bless you!'" persisted the little one, and it was not tillher uncle muttered the desired words that she relinquished her hold andfollowed the butler sedately out of the room. 

CHAPTER II. 

DAVID AND GOLIATH. 

Sir Edward Wentworth was, as he expressed it, a "confirmed bachelor, "and though during the autumn months he was quite willing to fill hishouse with his London friends, he was better pleased to live the greaterpart of the year in seclusion, occupying himself with looking after hisestate and writing articles for several of the leading reviews of theday. 

The advent of his small niece was indeed a great trial to him, but, withhis characteristic thoroughness, he determined that he would make thenecessary arrangements for her comfort. Accordingly he had a longinterview with her nurse the following morning. It proved to besatisfactory. The nurse was a staid, elderly woman, who assured him shewas accustomed to the sole charge of the child, and would keep herentirely under her own control. 

"I expect you would like her to be sent down to you in the evening--atdessert, perhaps, sir?" she inquired. 

Sir Edward pulled the ends of his moustache dubiously. "Is it necessary?I thought children ought to be in bed at that time. "

"Of course it shall be as you like, sir. You do not dine so late as somedo. I thought you would expect to see her once in the day. "

After a little hesitation Sir Edward gave his permission; and when hefound that Milly neither screamed nor snatched for the fruit on thetable, and did not herself engross the whole conversation, he becamequite reconciled to the little white figure stealing in and occupyingthe chair that was always placed at his left-hand side for her. 

Beyond this he saw very little of her while his guests were with him;but afterwards, when they had all left him, and he relapsed into hisordinary life, he was constantly coming across her. Sometimes he wouldfind her in the stables, her arms round the stable cat, and the groomsholding a voluble conversation with her, or among the cows at the bottomof the paddock, or feeding the pigs and fowls in the poultry yard. Generally she was attended by Fritz, a beautiful collie, who had, withthe fickleness of his nature, transferred his affection from his masterto her, and though uncertain in temper towards most, was never anythingbut amiable when with the little girl. 

Her uncle's form approaching was quite a sufficient hint to her to makeherself scarce. She would generally anticipate the usual formula: "Nowrun away child, to nurse, " by singing out cheerfully: "I am just off, uncle, " and by the time he had reached the spot where she was standingthe little figure would be running off in the distance, Fritz close ather heels. 

One afternoon Sir Edward was returning from a stroll up the avenue whenhe saw the child at play among the trees, and for a moment he paused andwatched her. She appeared to be very busy with a doll wrapped in a furrug which she carefully deposited at the foot of the tree; then for someminutes she and Fritz seemed to be having a kind of a game of hide andseek with one another, until she pushed him into a bush and commandedhim to stay there. Suddenly dog and child darted at each other, andthen, to Sir Edward's amazement, he saw his little niece seize Fritz bythe throat and bring him to the ground. When both were rolling over oneanother, and Fritz's short, sharp barks became rather indignant in tone, as he vainly tried to escape from the little hands so tightly round him, Sir Edward thought it high time to interfere. 

"Millicent, " he called out sharply, "come to me at once; what are youdoing?"

In an instant Milly was upon her feet, and lifting a hot flushed littleface to his, she placed herself in her favorite attitude when in hispresence; her hands clasped behind her back, and feet closely plantedtogether. 

"Don't you know Fritz might bite if you are so rough with him? Were youtrying to choke him?" demanded her uncle. 

"Yes, " she responded, breathless from her late exertions, "I was tryingto kill him! He's a bear, and that's my lamb, and I am David; that'sall. "

A child's games were beyond Sir Edward's comprehension. He looked downupon her with a knitted brow. 

She continued--

"You see, he has to do for both, a bear and a lion, for they both came, and they both tried to get the lamb. Nurse was the lion one day, but sheis too big; I can't knock her down, though I try hard. "

"I will not have Fritz knocked down in that fashion. He might hurt you, "said Sir Edward, sternly. 

Milly looked sorrowful; then brightening up, she asked--

"But I may kill Goliath, mayn't I? Do you know that is one of my games. See, I'm David, and you see that big old tree standing by itself? That'sGoliath. He is looking at me now. Do you see where his eyes come? Justup there in those first branches. When it's windy he shakes his head atme fearful! He's a wicked, wicked old thing, and he thinks no one canknock him down. Do you remember about him, uncle?"

Sir Edward was becoming slightly interested. He leaned against a treeand took out a cigar. 

"No, I don't think I do, " he said. 

"Don't you remember? He stood up so proud, and called out: 'Choose a manto come and fight me. ' He's saying that to me now. I'm David, you know, and I'm going. Just wait a moment till I'm ready. "

She darted away to where her doll was, and soon returned with a tinycalico bag, which she opened very carefully and disclosed to her uncle'spuzzled gaze five round stones. 

"You see, " she went on, "it's a pity I haven't a sling, but Tom in thestable says he will make me a cattypot; that's a lovely sling, he says, which would kill anything. But it's all right; I pretend I have a sling, you know. Now you wait here; I'm going to meet him. I'm not a bitafraid, though he looks so big, because David wasn't, you know. Godhelped him. Now, Goliath, I'm ready!"

Sir Edward looked on in some amusement as Milly stepped out with regulareven steps until she was about twenty feet from the tree, then suddenlystopped. 

"I hear what you say, Goliath. You say you'll give my body to be peckedat and eaten by the birds; but you won't do that, for I am coming, and Iam going to kill you. "

And then with all her strength the child flung her stones one by one atthe tree, pausing for some moments when she had done so. 

"He's quite dead, uncle, " she said calmly, as she retraced her steps andstood before Sir Edward, again looking up at him with those earnest eyesof hers, "quite dead; and if I had a sword I would play at cutting offhis head. I suppose you wouldn't lend me your sword hanging up in thehall, would you?"

"Most certainly not, " was the quick reply. Then taking his cigar fromhis mouth, Sir Edward asked:

"And does all your play consist in killing people?"

"I only try to kill the bear and lion and Goliath, because they're sowicked and so strong. "

Milly continued, --

"This is such a lovely place to play in--trees are so nice to have gameswith. Shall I tell you some more? Do you see that little tree overthere? That's where I sit when I'm the probable son, and when I've satthere a long time and been very miserable, and eaten some of the beechnuts that do for husks, then suddenly I think I will go home to myfather. It's rather a long walk, but I get happier and happier as I go, and I get to walk very quick at last, and then I run when I see myfather. Do you see that nice big old tree right up there with the redleaves, uncle? That's him, and I run up and say, 'Father, I have sinned;I am not fit to come back, but I am so sorry that I left you, ' and thenI just hug him and kiss him; and, do you know, I feel he hugs and kissesme back. He does in the story, you know. And then I have a nice littlefeast all ready. I get some biscuits from nurse, and a little jam, andsome sugar and water, and I sit down and feel so happy to think I'm notthe probable son any more, and haven't got to eat husks or be with thepigs. Don't you think that's a beautiful game, uncle?"

"Do you get all your games from the Bible?" inquired Sir Edward. "Isomehow think it is not quite correct, " and he looked very dubiously athis little niece as he spoke. 

"Well, " said Milly, the earnest look coming into her eyes again, "I lovethe Bible so much, you see. Nurse tells me the stories ever so often, and I know lots and lots of them. But I like the probable son the best. Do you like it?"

Sir Edward replaced his cigar in his mouth and strolled on without areply. His little niece's words awakened very uncomfortable feelingswithin his heart. Years before he had known and loved his Bible well. Hehad been active in Christian work, and had borne many a scoff and jeerfrom his companions when at Oxford for being "pious, " as they termed it. But there came a time when coldness crept into his Christianity, andworldly ambition and desires filled his soul. Gradually he wanderedfarther and farther away from the right path, and when he came into hisproperty he took possession of it with no other aim and object in lifethan to enjoy himself in his own way and to totally ignore both the pastand future. Beyond going to church once on Sunday he made no professionof religion, but that custom he conformed to most regularly, and thevicar of the parish had nothing to complain of in the way in which hisappeals for charity were met by the squire. It is needless to say thatSir Edward was not a happy man. There were times when he could not bearhis own thoughts and the solitude of his position; and at such timesthere was a hasty departure for town, and some weeks of club lifeensued, after which he would return to his home, and engross himself inboth his literary and country occupations with fresh vigor. 

CHAPTER III. 

THE FIRST PUNISHMENT. 

Slowly but surely little Milly was advancing in her uncle's favor. Herextreme docility and great fearlessness, added to her quaintness ofspeech and action, attracted him greatly. He became interested inwatching her little figure as it flitted to and fro, and the sunny laughand bright childish voice about the house were no longer an annoyance tohim. 

One day he was moved to anger by an accident that happened to a smallstatue in the hall and Milly was the delinquent. Her ball had rolledbehind it, and both she and the dog were having a romp to get it, whenin the scuffle the statue came to the ground and lay there in a thousandpieces. Hearing the crash, Sir Edward came out of his study, andcompletely losing his temper, he turned furiously upon the child, givingvent to language that was hardly fit for her ears to hear. She stoodbefore him with round, frightened eyes and quivering lips, her littlefigure upright and still, until she could bear it no longer; and thenshe turned and fled from him through the garden door out upon the smoothgrassy lawn, where she flung herself down face foremost close to herfavorite beech tree, there giving way to a burst of passionate tears. 

"I didn't mean it--oh! I didn't mean to break it, " she sobbed aloud. "Uncle Edward is a fearful angry man; he doesn't love me a bit. I wish Ihad a father! I want a father like the probable son; he wouldn't be soangry!"

And when later on nurse came, with an anxious face, to fetch her littlecharge in from the cold, wet grass, she had not the heart to scold her, for the tear-stained face was raised so pitifully to hers with thewords, --

"Oh, nurse, dear, carry me in your arms. No one loves me here. I've beentelling God all about it. He's the only One that isn't angry. "

That evening, at the accustomed time, Milly stole quietly into thedining-room, wondering in her little heart whether her uncle was stillangry with her. 

As she climbed into her chair, now placed on the opposite side of thelarge table, she eyed him doubtfully through her long eyelashes; thengathering courage from the immovable expression of his face, she said inher most cheerful tone, --

"It's a very fine night, uncle. "

"Is it?" responded Sir Edward, who was accustomed by this time to somesuch remark when his little niece wanted to attract his notice. Thenfeeling really ashamed of his outburst a few hours before, he said, byway of excusing himself, --"Look here, Millicent, you made me exceedinglyangry by your piece of mischief this afternoon. That statue can never bereplaced, and you have destroyed one of my most valuable possessions. Let it be a warning for the future. If ever you break anything again, Ishall punish you most severely. Do you understand?"

"Yes, uncle, " she answered, looking up earnestly. "'You will punish me_most_ severely. ' I will remember. I have been wondering why I broke it, when I didn't mean to do it. Nurse says it was a most 'unfortunateaccident. ' I asked her what an accident was. She says it's a thing thathappens when you don't expect it--a surprise, she called it. I'm sureit was a dreadful surprise to me, and to Fritz, too; but I'll never playball in the hall again, _never_!"

A week later, and Sir Edward was in his study, absorbed in his books andpapers, when there was a knock at his door, and, to his astonishment, his little niece walked in. This was so against all rules andregulations that his voice was very stern as he said, --

"What is the meaning of this intrusion, Millicent? You know you arenever allowed to disturb me when here. "

Milly did not answer for a moment. She walked up to her uncle, her smalllips tightly closed, and then, standing in front of him with claspedhands, she said, --

"I've come to tell you some dreadful news. "

Sir Edward pushed aside his papers, adjusted his glasses, and saw fromthe pallor of the child's face and the scared expression in her eyes, that it was no light matter that had made her venture into his presenceuncalled for. 

"It's a dreadful surprise again, " Milly continued, "but I told nurse Imust tell you at once. I--I felt so bad here, " and her little hand waslaid pathetically on her chest. 

"Well, what is it? Out with it, child! You are wasting my time, " saidher uncle impatiently. 

"I have--I have broken something else. "

There was silence. Then Sir Edward asked drily, --

"And what is it now?"

"It's a--a flower-pot, that the gardener's boy left outside thetool-house. I--I--well, I put it on Fritz's head for a hat, you know. Hedid look so funny, but he tossed up his head and ran away, and it fell, and it is smashed to bits. I have got the bits outside the door on themat. Shall I bring them in?"

A flower-pot was of such small value in Sir Edward's eyes that he almostsmiled at the child's distress. 

"Well, well, you must learn not to touch the flower-pots in future. Nowrun away, and do not disturb me again. "

But Milly stood her ground. 

"I think you have forgot, Uncle Edward. You told me that if I brokeanything again you would punish me '_most_ severely. ' Those were thewords you said; don't you remember?"

Sir Edward pulled the ends of his moustache and fidgeted uneasily in hischair. He always prided himself upon being a man of his word, but muchregretted at the present moment that he had been so rash in his speech. 

"Oh! ah! I remember, " he said at length, meeting his little niece'sanxious gaze with some embarrassment. Then pulling himself together, headded sternly, --

"Of course you must be punished; it was exceedingly careless andmischievous. What does your nurse do when she punishes you?"

"She never does punish me--not now, " said Milly plaintively. "When I wasa very little girl I used to stand in the corner. I don't think nursehas punished me for years. "

Sir Edward was in a dilemma; children's punishments were quite unknownto him. Milly seemed to guess at his difficulty. 

"How were you punished when you were a little boy, uncle?"

"I used to be well thrashed. Many is the whipping that I have had frommy father!"

"What is a whipping--like you gave Fritz when he went into the gamewood?"

"Yes. "

There was a pause. The child clasped her little hands tighter, and sether lips firmer, as she saw before her eyes a strong arm dealing veryheavy strokes with a riding-whip. Then she said in an awe-struck tone, --

"And do you think that is how you had better punish me?"

Sir Edward smiled grimly as he looked at the baby figure standing soerect before him. 

"No, " he said; "I do not think you are a fit subject for that kind oftreatment. "

Milly heaved a sigh of relief. 

"And don't you know how to punish, " she said after some minutes ofawkward silence. There was commiseration in her tone. The situation wasbecoming ludicrous to Sir Edward, though there was a certain amount ofannoyance at feeling his inability to carry out his threat. 

"Nurse told me, " continued his little niece gravely, "that she knew alittle boy who was shut up in a dark cupboard for a punishment; but hewas found nearly dead, and really died the next day, from fright. Thereis a dark cupboard on the kitchen stairs. I don't think I should be veryfrightened, because God will be in there with me. Do you think thatwould do?"

This was not acceptable. The child went on with knitted brows:

"I expect the Bible will tell you how to punish. I remember a man whopicked up sticks on Sunday--he was stoned dead; and Elisha's servant wasmade a leper, and some children were killed by a bear, and a prophet bya lion, and Annas and Sophia were struck dead. All of them were punished'most severely, ' weren't they? If you forgave me a little bit, and leftout the 'most severely, ' it would make it easier, I expect. "

"Perhaps I might do that, " said poor Sir Edward, who by this time longedto dispense with the punishment altogether; "as it was only aflower-pot, I will leave out the 'most severely. '"

Milly's face brightened. 

"I think, " she said, coming up to him and laying one hand on hisknee--"I think if I were to go to bed instead of coming down to dessertwith you this evening, that would punish me; don't you think so?"

"Very well, that will do. Now run away, and let this be your lastbreakage. I cannot be worried with your punishments. "

"I will try to be very good, nurse, always, " said Milly while beingtucked up in bed that night, "because Uncle Edward is very puzzled whenhe has to punish me. He doesn't know what to do. He looked quite unhappyand said it worried him. "

And Sir Edward as he finished his dinner in silence and solitudemuttered to himself, --

"That child is certainly a great nuisance at times, but, upon my word, Iquite miss her this evening. Children after all are original, if theyare nothing else, and she is one of the most original that I have evermet. "

It was Sunday morning, and Sir Edward was just starting for church. Ashe stood over the blazing fire in the hall buttoning a glove, a littlevoice came to him from the staircase:

"Uncle Edward, may I come down and speak to you?"

Permission being given, Milly danced down the stairs, and then, slippingher little hand into her uncle's, she lifted a coaxing face to his. 

"Will you take me to church with you? Nurse thinks I'm almost big enoughnow, and I have been to church in the afternoon sometimes. "

Sir Edward hesitated. "If you come, you will fidget, I expect. I cannotstand that. "

"I will sit as still as a mouse. I won't fidget. "

"If you behave badly I shall never take you again. Yes, you may come. Bequick and get ready. "

A few moments after, Sir Edward and his little niece were walking downthe avenue, she clasping a large Bible under her arm, and trying in vainto match her steps with his. 

The squire's pew was one of the old-fashioned high ones, and Milly'shead did not reach the top of it. Very quiet and silent she was duringthe service, and very particular to follow her uncle's example in everyrespect, though she nearly upset his gravity at the outset by taking offher hat in imitation of him and covering her face with it. But when thesermon commenced her large dark eyes were riveted on the clergyman as hegave out the text so well known to her:--

"_I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father, Ihave sinned against Heaven, and before thee, and am no more worthy to becalled thy son_"; and though the sermon was half an hour in length, hergaze never left the pulpit. 

"Uncle Edward, " she said, when their steps at length turned homewards, "do you know, I heard all the sermon, and understood it pretty wellexcept the long words. Wasn't it nice to hear about the probable son?"

"'Prodigal, ' you mean. Cannot you pronounce your words properly?"

Sir Edward's tone was irritable. He had not been feeling verycomfortable under the good vicar's words. 

"I can't say that; I always forget it. Nurse says one long word is asgood as another sometimes. Uncle, what did the clergyman mean by peoplerunning away from God? No one does, do they?"

"A great many do, " was the dry response. 

"But how can they? Because God is everywhere. No one can't get awayfrom God, and why do they want to? Because God loves them so. "

"Why did the prodigal want to get away?"

Milly considered. 

"I s'pose he wanted to have some a--aventures, don't you call them? Iplay at that, you know. All sorts of things happen to me before I sitdown at the beech tree, but--but it's so different with God. Why, Ishould be fearful unhappy if I got away from Him. I couldn't, could I, uncle? Who would take care of me and love me when I'm asleep? And whowould listen to my prayers? Why, Uncle Edward, I think I should die offright if I got away from God. Do tell me I couldn't. "

Milly had stopped short, and grasped hold of Sir Edward's coat in hergrowing excitement. He glanced at her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. 

"You foolish child, there is no fear of your getting away from God. Don't be so excitable. We will change the subject. I want to seeMaxwell, so we will go through the wood. "

Maxwell was Sir Edward's head game-keeper, and a little later found themat his pretty cottage at the edge of the wood. It was Milly's firstvisit, and Mrs. Maxwell, a motherly-looking body, greeted her with sucha sunshiny smile that the child drew near to her instinctively. 

"What a lovely room, " she exclaimed, looking round the homely littlekitchen with a child's admiring eyes, "and what a beautiful cat! May Istroke her?"

Assent being given, Milly was soon seated in a large cushioned chair, afat tabby cat on her lap, and while Sir Edward was occupied with hiskeeper she was making fast friends with the wife. 

"Uncle Edward, " she said, when they had taken their leave and werewalking homewards, "Mrs. Maxwell has asked me to go to tea with herto-morrow. May I--all by myself?"

"Ask your nurse; I have no objection. "

"I should love to live in her house, " continued the child eagerly; "itis all among the trees, and I love trees. And this wood is so lovely. Why, I might get lost in it, mightn't I? I have never been here before. In my story-books, children always get lost in a wood. Uncle Edward, doyou think the trees talk to one another? I always think they do. Lookat them now. They are just shaking their heads together and whispering, aren't they? Whispering very gently to-day, because it is Sunday. Sometimes they get angry with one another and scream, but I like to hearthem hum and sing best. Nurse says it's the wind that makes them do it. Don't you like to hear them? When I lie in bed I listen to them aroundthe house, and I always want to sing with them. Nurse doesn't like it. She says it's the wind moaning. I think it's the trees singing to God, and I love them when they do it. Which do you think it is?"

And so Milly chatted on, and Sir Edward listened, and put in a word ortwo occasionally, and on the whole did not find his small niece badcompany. He told her when they entered the house that she could go tochurch every Sunday morning in future with him, and that sent Milly tothe nursery with a radiant face, there to confide to nurse that she hadhad a "lovely time, " and was going to tea as often as she might with"Mrs. Maxwell in the wood. "

CHAPTER IV. 

MRS. MAXWELL'S SORROW. 

Milly spent a very happy afternoon at the keeper's cottage the next day, and came down to dessert in the evening so full of her visit that shecould talk of nothing else. 

"They were so kind to me, uncle. Mrs. Maxwell made a hot currant cake onpurpose for me, and the cat had a red ribbon for company, and we sat bythe fire and talked when Maxwell was out, and she told me such lovelystories, and I saw a beautiful picture of the probable son in the bestparlor, and Mrs. Maxwell took it down and let me have a good look at it. I am going to save up my money and buy one just like it for my nursery, and do you know, uncle--"

She stopped short, but not for want of breath. Putting her curly head onone side, she surveyed her uncle for a minute meditatively, then asked, a little doubtfully:

"Can you keep a secret, Uncle Edward? Because I would like to tell you, only, you see, Mrs. Maxwell doesn't talk about it, and I told her Iwouldn't--at least, not to the servants, you know. "

"I think you can trust me, " Sir Edward said gravely. 

"This is it, then, and I think it's so wonderful. They have got a reallive probable son. "

Sir Edward raised his eyebrows. His little niece continued:

"Yes, they really have. It was when I was talking about the picture Mrs. Maxwell took the corner of her apron and wiped her eyes, and said shehad a dear son who had run away from home, and she hadn't seen him fornine years. Just fancy! Where was I nine years ago?"

"Not born. "

"But I must have been somewhere, " and Milly's active little brain nowstarted another train of thought, until she got fairly bewildered. 

"I expect I was fast asleep in God's arms, " she said at length, withknitted brows; "only, of course, I don't remember, " and having settledthat point to her satisfaction, she continued her story:

"Mrs. Maxwell's 'probable son' is called Tommy. He ran away when he wasseventeen because he didn't like the blacksmith's shop. Mrs. Maxwell andI cried about him. He had such curly hair, and stood six feet in hisstockings, and he was a _beautiful_ baby when he was little, and hadcroup and--and confusions, and didn't come to for four hours; but hewould run away, though he laid the fire and put sticks on it and drewthe water for Mrs. Maxwell before he went. And Mrs. Maxwell says he maybe a soldier or a sailor now for all she knows, and he may be drowndeddead, or run over, or have both his legs shot to pieces, or he may be inIndia with the blacks; but I told her he was very likely taking care ofsome pigs somewhere, and she got happy a little bit then, and we driedour tears, and she gave me some peppermint to suck. Isn't it a wonderfulstory, uncle?"

"Very wonderful, " was the response. 

"Well, we were in the middle of talking when Maxwell came in, so wehushed, because Mrs. Maxwell said, 'It makes my man so sad'; but, do youknow, when Maxwell was bringing me home through the wood he asked mewhat we had been talking about, and he said he knew it was about theboy because he could see it in Mrs. Maxwell's eye. And then I asked himif he would run and kiss Tommy when he came back, and if he would make afeast; and he said he would do anything to get him home again. "

Milly paused, then said wistfully, --

"I wish I had a father, Uncle Edward. You see, nurse does for a mother, but fathers are so fond of their children, aren't they?"

"It does not always follow that they are, " Sir Edward replied. 

"The probable son's father loved him, and Maxwell loves Tommy, and thenthere was David, you know, who really had a wicked son, with longhair--I forget his name--and he cried dreadful when he was dead. Isometimes tell God about it when I'm in bed, and then He--He just seemsto put His arms round me and send me off to sleep; at least, I think Hedoes. Nurse says God likes me to call Him my Father, but of course thatisn't quite the same as having a father I can see. Maxwell is a verynice father, I think. I told him I would pray for Tommy every night whenI go to bed, and then I told him that God had lots of probable sons, too--the clergyman said so on Sunday, didn't he?--people who have runaway from Him. I've been asking God to make them come back. I hope Hewill let me know when they do. Do you know any one who has run away fromGod, uncle?"

"You are chattering too much, child, " said Sir Edward irritably; "sitstill and be quiet. "

Milly instantly obeyed, and after some moments of silence her unclesaid, --

"I don't mind your going to Maxwell's cottage, but you must never takeFritz with you. He is not allowed in that wood at all. Do you quiteunderstand?"

"Yes, but I'm very sorry, for Fritz doesn't like being left behind; thetears were in his eyes when nurse told him he wasn't to go with me. Yousee, no one talks to him like I do. He likes me to tell him stories, andI told him when I came back about my visit, so he wants to go. But Iwon't take him with me if you say no. "

When she was leaving him that night for bed, she paused a moment as shewished him good-night. 

"Uncle Edward, when you say your prayers to-night, will you ask God tomake Tommy come back home? His mother does want him so badly. "

"I will leave you to do that, " was the curt reply. 

"Well, if you don't want to pray for Tommy, pray for God's probablesons, won't you? Do, Uncle Edward. Mrs. Maxwell said the only thing thatcomforted her is asking God to bring Tommy back. "

Sir Edward made no reply, only dismissed her more peremptorily thanusual, and when she had left the room he leaned his arms on the chimneypiece, and resting his head on them, gazed silently into the fire with aknitted brow. His thoughts did not soothe him, for he presently raisedhis head with a short laugh, saying to himself, --

"Where is my cigar-case? I will go and have a smoke to get rid of thisfit of the blues. I shall have to curb that child's tongue a little. Sheis getting too troublesome. "

And while he was pacing moodily up and down the terrace outside, alittle white-robed figure, with bent head and closed eyes, was sayingsoftly and reverently as she knelt at her nurse's knee--

"And, O God, bring Tommy back, and don't let him be a probable son anymore. Bring him home very soon, please, and will you bring back all yourprobable sons who are running away from you, for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen. "

Sir Edward did not escape several visits from ladies in the neighborhoodoffering to befriend his little niece, but all these overtures werecourteously and firmly rejected. He told them the child was happy withher nurse, he did not wish her to mix with other children at present, and a year or two hence would be quite time enough to think about hereducation. So Milly was left alone, more than one mother remarking witha shake of the head--

"It's a sad life for a child, but Sir Edward is peculiar, and when hegets a notion into his head he keeps to it. "

The child was not unhappy, and when the days grew shorter, and herrambles out of doors were curtailed, she would lie on the tiger-skin bythe hall fire with Fritz for the hour together, pouring out to him allher childish confidences. 

Sometimes her uncle would find her perched on the broad window-seathalf-way up the staircase, with her little face pressed against thewindowpanes, and late on one very cold afternoon in November heremonstrated with her. 

"It is too cold for you here, Millicent, " he said sternly; "you ought tobe in the nursery. "

"I don't feel cold, " she replied. "I don't like being in the nursery allday; and when it gets dark, nurse will have the lamp lit and thecurtains drawn, and then there are only the walls and ceiling and thepictures to look at. I'm tired of them; I see them every day. "

"And what do you see here?" asked Sir Edward. 

"You come and sit down, and I will tell you. There's room, uncle; makeFritz move a little. Now, you look out with me. I can see such a lotfrom this window. I like looking out right into the world; don't you?"

"Are we not in the world? I thought we were. "

"I s'pose we are, but I mean God's world. The insides of houses aren'tHis world, are they? Do you see my trees? I can see Goliath from thiswindow; he looks very fierce to-night; he has lost all his leaves, and Ican almost hear him muttering to himself. And then, uncle, do you seethose nice thin trees cuddling each other? I call those David andJon'than; they're just kissing each other, like they did in the wood, you know. Do you remember? And there's my beech-tree over there, where Isit when I'm the probable son. It's too dark for you to see all theothers. I have names for them all nearly, but I like to come and watchthem, and then I see the stars just beginning to come out. Do you knowwhat I think about the stars? They're angels' eyes, and they look downand blink at me so kindly, and then I look up and blink back. We go onblinking at each other sometimes till I get quite sleepy. I watch thebirds going to bed too. There is so much I can see from this window. "

"Well, run along to the nursery now; you have been here long enough. "

Milly jumped down from her seat obediently; then catching hold of heruncle's hand as he was moving away, she said, --

"Just one thing more I want to show you, uncle. I can see the high-roadfor such a long way over there, and when it is not quite so dark I sitand watch for Tommy--that's Maxwell's probable son, you know. I shouldbe so glad if I were to see him coming along one day with his headhanging down, and all ragged and torn. He is sure to come some day--Godwill bring him--and if I see him coming first, I shall run off quick toMaxwell and tell him, and then he will run out to meet him. Won't it belovely?"

And with shining eyes Milly shook back her brown curls and looked upinto her uncle's face for sympathy. He patted her head, the nearestapproach to a caress that he ever gave her, and left her without sayinga word. 

Another day, later still, he came upon her at the staircase window. Hewas dining out that night, and was just leaving the house, but stoppedas he noticed his little niece earnestly waving her handkerchief up atthe window. 

"What are you doing now?" he inquired as he passed down the stairs. Milly turned round, her little face flushed, and eyes looking very sweetand serious. 

"I was just waving to God, Uncle Edward. I thought I saw Him lookingdown at me from the sky. "

Sir Edward passed on, muttering inaudibly, --

"I believe that child lives in the presence of God from morning tonight". 

CHAPTER V. 

A PRODIGAL. 

"Uncle Edward, nurse and I are going shopping; would you like us to buyyou anything? We are going in the dog-cart with Harris. "

Milly was dancing up and down on the rug inside the front door as shespoke. It was a bright, frosty morning, and Sir Edward was leaving thebreakfast-room with the newspaper and a large packet of letters in hishand. He stopped and glanced at the little fur-clad figure as she stoodthere, eager anticipation written on her face, and his thoughts wentback to the time when he as a boy looked upon a day's visit to theneighboring town--nine miles away--as one of his greatest pleasures. 

"Yes, " he said, slowly fumbling in his waistcoat pocket; "you can get mesome pens and blotting paper at the stationer's. I will write down thekind I want, and here is the money. Keep the change, and buy anythingyou like with it. "

Milly's cheeks flushed with delight as she took the money--

"What a lot it will buy!" she said. "Thank you very much indeed. I waswanting to buy something my own self, and I've only a little cook gaveme, but now I shall be quite rich. "

It was late in the afternoon when nurse and her little charge droveback, and Sir Edward met them coming up the avenue. Milly's face wasclouded, and there were traces of tears on her cheeks, and this was suchan unusual sight that Sir Edward inquired of the nurse what was thematter. 

"She has not been good, sir, I am sorry to say. It isn't often that Ihave to pull her up, but she has given me such a fright and trouble thisafternoon as I am not likely to forget in a hurry. "

"What has she been doing? But never mind; I will not detain you now. Ican hear about it when we get in. "

Nurse was evidently very disturbed in mind, for she poured into SirEdward's ear, directly they were inside the hall, a confused story:--

"I was in the grocer's, sir, and I knew I should be there some time; forcook, she gave me so many commissions I had to write a long list ofthem. I said to Miss Milly, 'You can stand outside, but don't go a stepfarther. ' She knows she is never allowed to speak to such people; I'veknown, as I told her, children being carried bodily off and set down ata street corner with hardly a rag on their backs; and to think of hermarching off with him, and never a thought of my anxiety--and the way Iwent rushing up and down the streets--and the policemen--they areperfectly useless to help a person, but can only stare at you and grin. I'm sure I never expected to light eyes on her again, and I lost mypurse and my best umbrella; I left them both somewhere, but it was nighon two hours I spent, and my shopping not near done, and he the greatestlooking rascal that one might see coming out of jail. I'm sure Ishouldn't have been so angry but to see her smiling face, as if shehadn't done any wrong at all, nor disobeyed me flatly, and most likelyput herself in the way of catching the most infectious disease from thevery look of him, and run the risk of being robbed and perhaps murdered, and not an idea in her head that she was a very naughty child, butquite expected me to see the reasonableness of it all!"

Nurse stopped for breath, whilst Milly's hanging head, heaving chest, and quick sobs showed that by this time nurse's words had quiteconvinced her of her wrong-doing. 

Sir Edward was surprised at the interest he felt in his little niece'strouble. 

"I am afraid I cannot understand your story, nurse, " he said quietly;"but I daresay Miss Millicent will tell me herself. Come into the study, child, with me. "

He took her hand in his, and led her away, while nurse looked after himin astonishment, and Ford, the old butler, standing by, said with greatsolemnity, --

"You may well stare, nurse. Mark my words, that child will be able totwist him round with her little finger one of these days. I see ita-developin'. It will be a terrible come-down to the master--but there, I will say that the women always conquer, and they begin it when they'rein short frocks. "

"I don't see the remarkableness in a gentleman taking notice of his ownsister's child, " returned nurse testily; "the wonder is that he shouldhold her at arm's length as he does, and treat her as if she were a dogor a piece of furniture, without any feelings, and she his own flesh andblood, too. There's no 'coming down' to have a spark of humanity in hisbreast occasionally. "

And nurse sailed upstairs, the loss of her purse and umbrella havingconsiderably ruffled her usually even temper. 

Sir Edward seated himself by the study fire, and Milly stood before him, one little hand resting upon his knee and the other holding her tinyhandkerchief to her eyes, and vainly trying to restrain her sobs. 

"Now suppose you stop crying, and tell me what has happened!" her unclesaid, feeling moved at seeing his usually self-contained little niece insuch grief. 

Milly applied her handkerchief vigorously to her eyes, and looking upwith quivering lips, she said, --

"I didn't mean to be naughty, uncle. Nurse hasn't been angry with melike she is now for _years_, and I'm _so_ unhappy!"

The pitiful tone and look touched Sir Edward's heart, and, on theimpulse of the moment, he did what he had never as yet attempted--liftedher upon his knee, and told her to proceed with her story; and Milly, after a final struggle with her tears, got the better of them, and wasable to give him a pretty clear account of what had happened. 

"I had bought your pens and blotting-paper, uncle, and was going to apicture-shop to spend the rest of my money when nurse had finished atthe grocer's. I was standing outside, when I saw a man coming along. Helimped, and his hat was broken in, and he was so ragged that I thoughthe must be a probable son, and then I thought he might be Tommy goinghome, and when I thought that, I couldn't think of nothing else, and Iforgot all about nurse, and I forgot she told me to stay there, and Iran after him as hard as I could. I caught him up, and he looked veryastonished when I asked him was his name Tommy. He said, 'No, ' and helaughed at me, and then I asked him was he a probable son, because helooked like one. He said he didn't know what kind of person that was. And then I had to explain it to him. He told me he had never had a hometo run away from, so that wouldn't do; but he really looked just likethe man I've seen in Mr. Maxwell's picture, and I told him so, and thenI found out what he was, and I was so sorry, and yet I was so glad. "

Milly paused, and her large, expressive eyes shone as she turned them upto her uncle's face, and her voice dropped almost to a whisper as shesaid, --

"I found out he was one of God's probable sons. When I asked him if hehad run away from God, he said yes, he supposed he had done that, so ofcourse he was ragged and unhappy. "

"That is not always the case, " put in Sir Edward, half touched, halfamused. "Sometimes it is very rich people who run away from God, andthey get richer when they are away from Him. "

Milly looked puzzled. 

"But they can't be happy, uncle. Oh, they never can be!"

"Perhaps not. "

"Well, I talked to this poor man till we had walked quite away from theshops, and then he turned down a lane, and I went with him; and we wereboth rather tired, so we sat down together on some doorsteps inside anarchway, and he told me all about himself. His name is Jack, and hisfather and mother are dead, like mine; and he got drunk one night, andfell down and broke his arm, and then he went to a hospital; and when hegot well and went back to his work again, his master couldn't take him, because some one else was in his place, and he couldn't get any work. Iasked him were there no pigs to keep, but he said there weren't any inLondon, and he was there, and for six months, he told me, he had been'on the tramp'; that's what he called it. I asked him what that meant, and he said just walking on every day to no place particular. And hesaid something about going to the bad, which I couldn't quiteunderstand. Then I asked him why he didn't go back to God, and he saidhe had been a good boy once, when he went to Sunday-school, and he had avery good uncle who kept a baker's shop in London, and who wanted him togo and live with him, but he wouldn't, because he was too good for him. And I asked him why he wouldn't go to him now, and he said he couldn'ttramp back again to London, it was too far, and he had no money. Sothen I opened my purse, and we counted over my money together, and hesaid it was just enough to take him back, if I would lend it to him. So, of course, I did, and he asked me my name and where I lived, and I toldhim. "

"The scoundrel!" muttered Sir Edward. 

Milly paused. "Why are you looking so angry, uncle? I was so glad togive him the money; and then we talked a good deal, and I begged him notto be one of God's probable sons any more. Fancy! He wouldn't believeGod loved him, and he wouldn't believe that God wanted him back! I toldhim I should be quite frightened to get away from God, and he--well, healmost didn't seem to care; he said no one cared what came of him, whether he was hung, dead, or not; and I told him no one cared for memuch except nurse, but God did. I feel He loves me, and I know He lovesJack just the same; doesn't He, uncle?"

"And when did nurse find you?" inquired Sir Edward, evading thisquestion. 

Milly's little face, which had been gradually brightening with theinterest of her story, now clouded over again, and she hung her head. 

"She was fearful angry with me. She was quite hot and red, and shesnatched me away, and said that Jack was a thief and--and a vagbag, orsomething like that. She scolded me all the way home, and I don't thinkshe will ever love me again. She said it was just a chance she found me, and if she hadn't come along that lane I should have been lost forever!And she was angry most of all because I shook hands with Jack and wishedhim good-bye. I don't think nurse would run and meet a probable son ifshe had one; she thinks all ragged people are wicked. But I'm--I'mdreadful sorry I was disobedient. Do you think I have been very naughty, Uncle Edward?"

Sir Edward twisted the ends of his moustache slowly. "I think you werenaughty to run after a strange man like that, and I quite understandnurse's displeasure. You made her exceedingly anxious. "

"And is God very angry with me?"

"God is not pleased with disobedient children. "

"May I kneel down and ask him to forgive me now?"

Sir Edward hesitated. "I think you had better go to the nursery and doit there. "

"I don't want to see nurse till I have done it. May I? Will you ask Godto forgive me too?"

"Your prayer will be quite sufficient. "

Milly slipped off his knee, and then, kneeling down with folded handsand closed eyes, she said softly, --

"Please God, will you forgive me! I'm so sorry I disobeyed nurse and ranaway. And please take care of Jack, and bring him back to you, for JesusChrist's sake. Amen. "

"Now run along to nurse, and don't cry any more, " said Sir Edward, as herose from his seat. 

Milly looked back wistfully as she reached the door. 

"Do you think nurse is still angry?"

"Tell nurse from me that she is not to scold you any more. The loss ofyour money ought to be a lesson to you. "

"But I didn't lose it, uncle. I lent it to Jack. He wouldn't let me giveit to him; he said he would send it back to me in a letter. "

Sir Edward laughed unbelievingly, and Milly trotted upstairs to bereceived with open arms by nurse at the nursery door. 

"There! never mind, my dear. I have been very angry with you, butyou'll never do such a thing again. Come and have your tea. I've had acup already, and feel wonderful better. Now, don't cry any more; blessyour little heart, I can't bear to see you in tears. "

With that nurse took her up in her arms; and poor tired little Millywhispered, as she clung to her, --

"I was afraid you would never love me again. I've told God I'm sorry; doyou quite forgive me?"

"Quite, my lamb, " was the reply; "and as to loving you, I shouldn't giveover doing that if you were twice as troublesome. "

CHAPTER VI. 

A PROMISE KEPT. 

About a fortnight later Sir Edward, who always opened the post-baghimself, found there a letter addressed to his little niece, and sent amessage to the nursery to tell her to come down to him. She arrived verysurprised at the summons, as Sir Edward always wished to be leftundisturbed at his breakfast, but when she saw the letters on the tableshe cried out joyously, --

"Good morning, Uncle Edward. I know there's a letter from Jack for me, isn't there? I've been waiting for it every day. "

"I think there may be, judging from the writing on the envelope. Comehere and open it. "

Milly took the letter, and her little fingers fairly trembled withexcitement as she opened it, saying softly to herself as she did so, --

"I knew he would keep his promise. I knew he wasn't a thief. "

A money order dropped out. 

"Well, " said Sir Edward, "you were right, little woman, and we werewrong. Would you like me to read it for you?"

"Yes, please, uncle. "

The letter read as follows:--

 "I am as good as my word, little Miss, in sending you back what you lent me with many grateful thanks for the loan, as I reached London safe and have never touched a drop of drink since I seen you, and am in work at my uncle's, which is good of him to take me, and am getting good wages and goes to church again. And my uncle has a chum which is a street preacher, and comes along of plenty of fellows like I was, and I told him of your young fellow, Tommy Maxwell, and he will keep a look-out for him. Tell the woman that fetched you sharp away that I'll hold up my head with her yet, and every night I asks God to bless you, for I hopes I am getting on the right track again, and thank you kindly for your talk, which is sticking to me. 

 "Yours obediently, "JACK GRAY. "

Sir Edward laid the letter down in silence when he had finished readingit. Milly's face was radiant. 

"I've never had a letter in my life before, uncle, but I don't quiteunderstand all of it. Will you explain it to me?"

And this her uncle did, sending her upstairs at length to show it tonurse, but sitting wrapped in thought himself and leaving both hisletters and breakfast untouched for some considerable time. 

That same day he went out driving in the afternoon with a young horse, and returning home met a traction engine, at which the horse instantlytook fright and bolted. 

For some time Sir Edward kept steadily to his seat, and though powerlessto check the animal's course was able to guide it; but in spite of allhis efforts the trap was at last upset, and he was thrown violently tothe ground. He had no groom with him, and the accident took place on alonely road, so that it was not till an hour later that help came, inthe shape of a farmer returning from market in his cart. He found SirEdward unconscious, and the horse still feebly struggling to extricatehimself from under the trap, which was badly broken. 

It was about seven o'clock in the evening when Sir Edward was broughthome, and he had three ribs broken, besides some very severe injuries tohis head. The doctor wished to telegraph for a nurse from London, butSir Edward had a horror of them, and having recovered consciousnessshook his head vehemently when it was suggested; and so it ended inMilly's nurse volunteering to assist his valet in nursing him. Poorlittle Milly wandered about the house with Fritz at her heels in a verywoe-begone fashion. What with the anxiety in her heart lest her uncleshould die, and the absence of her nurse--who could spare little timenow to look after her--she felt most forlorn, and her greatest comfortwas to go down to the keeper's cottage and talk to Mrs. Maxwell. 

Sir Edward was soon out of danger, but he was a long time recovering, and required most careful nursing. Milly begged and entreated to go inand see him, but this was not allowed. At last permission was given bythe doctor for a very short visit, and the child stole in on tip-toe, but insisted upon taking a large brown paper parcel in with her, thecontents of which were unknown to all except herself. 

Softly she crept up to the bed and looked at her uncle's bandaged headand worn face with the greatest awe. 

He put out his hand, which she took in hers, and then she said, herbrown eyes fixed wistfully on his face, --

"I've wanted to see you, Uncle Edward, for so long. I wish you would letme come in and help to nurse you. "

Sir Edward smiled, then shook his head. 

"I've been asking God to make you better so many times, " she continued, softly stroking his hand as she spoke, "and He is going to make you liveagain; now isn't He? I wasn't quite sure whether you mightn't like todie best, but I didn't want you to. Nurse says I mustn't stay a moment, but I've brought you a present. Maxwell went to the town and got it forme with the money Jack sent back to me. May I open it for you?"

Reading assent in his eyes, Milly eagerly removed her brown paper, andthen lifted on to the bed with difficulty a picture of the Prodigal Son, in a plain oak frame. 

"Isn't it a lovely one, Uncle Edward? There's the prodigal son--I'velearned to say it properly now--all in rags hurrying along the road, andthere's his old father in the distance coming to meet him; and can yousee the words underneath?--_'I will arise and go to my father, and willsay unto him, Father, I have sinned against Heaven, and before thee_. ' Ithought you would like it to look at while you are in bed. May I rest itagainst the rail at the bottom of your bed?--then you can see itbeautifully. "

Nurse came forward and helped the child to put the picture in the placeshe wished; and Sir Edward tried to look pleased, and said in a lowtone, --

"Thank you, little one, I can see it well from there"; but under hisbreath he muttered, "Has she a purpose in bringing that everlastingsubject before me? I'm sick to death of it. I shall get rid of thatpicture when she is gone. "

But he did not. His eyes grew somewhat wistful as he gazed upon it, andlater in the day, when nurse asked him if he would like to have itremoved, he shook his head in the negative. 

No one could know his thoughts during those long days and nights ofweariness and pain. The restlessness of body did not equal therestlessness of soul, and the past came back with a startling vividness. The wasted years, the misused talents, and above all, the fast-closedheart against its rightful Owner, now seemed to stand up in judgmentagainst him. Often in his wretchedness would he groan aloud, and wishfor unconsciousness to come to his aid and consign to oblivion hisaccusing memory. 

It was a cold, gray afternoon. Mrs. Maxwell's little kitchen was inperfect order. The fire shed flickering lights on the bright dish-coverson the wall, and the blue and white china on the old-fashioned dresserwas touched with a ruddy glow. Mrs. Maxwell herself, seated in a woodenrocking-chair, in spotless white apron, was knitting busily as shetalked; and Milly on a low stool, the tabby in her arms, with hergolden-brown curls in pretty disorder, and her large dark eyes gazingearnestly into the fire, completed the picture. 

"Do you like winter, Mrs. Maxwell?" she was asking. 

"Well, my dear, I can't say as I don't prefer the summer; butthere!--the Almighty sends it, and it must be right, and I don't thinkfolks have a right to grumble and go rushing off to them foreign parts, a-leaving their own country and the weather God gives them, because theysay they must have sunshine. I allays thinks they've no sunshine intheir hearts, or they wouldn't be so up and down with the weather. "

"I think winter is a very lonely time, Mrs. Maxwell, and I'm so sorryfor the trees. I was out this morning with Fritz, and I talked to themand tried to cheer them up. And I think they feel they're nearly dead, poor things! and they were shivering with cold this morning; they were, really. I told them they would be happy when next summer comes, but theysighed and shook their heads; it's such a long time to wait, and theyhave nothing to do--they can only stand still. I was very sad thismorning. After I had talked to them, I went down to the plantation atthe bottom of the lawn, and on the way I came to a poor dead frog. Fritzsniffed at him, but he didn't seem to be sorry. I don't know how hedied. I thought perhaps he had stayed out in the cold and got frozen, hefelt so very cold. I took him up and buried him, and I wondered if hismother would miss him; and then I went on a little farther, and therewere some little bird's feathers all in a heap on the ground. I feltsure a cruel cat had been eating it up, and I couldn't help crying, foreverything seemed to be dying. And when I got to the plantation I was alittle comforted, for the fir-trees looked so comfortable and warm--theyhadn't lost their leaves like the other trees--but do you know, in themiddle of them all was a tall, thin, bare tree--he looked so lonely andunhappy, and he was the only one without any leaves. "

"One of those birches, I expect. My man, he said the other day that thefir plantation yonder wanted weeding out. "

"Well, I couldn't bear to see him so sad, so I crept right in amongstthe firs until I got to him, and then I put my arms right round him andcuddled him tight. I told him God would take care of him, and give him abeautiful new green dress next summer; but he seemed to feel the cold, and I expect the other trees aren't very kind to him. I always think thefirs are very stiff and proud. I--I kissed him before I came away. Itwas a sad morning. "

Milly's tone was truly pathetic, and Mrs. Maxwell, who loved to hear herchildish fancies and never laughed at them, now looked up from herknitting sympathetically--

"You're sad yourself, dear. Is your uncle pretty well to-day?"

"I think he is getting better, but he mustn't talk, and nurse won't letme see him. I think it's winter makes me sad, Mrs. Maxwell. "

There was silence for a few moments. Milly stroked her cat thoughtfully, then she said, --

"If Uncle Edward had died, what would have happened to me? Should I havehad to go to the workhouse?"

"Bless your little heart, no! Why, my man and I was saying the other daythat it's most sure as you'll be mistress of the property one day. SirEdward he have no other kith or kin, as far as we know. Workhouse, indeed! A place where they takes in tramps and vagabonds. "

"I heard some of the maids talking about it, " pursued Milly; "they saidthey wondered what would happen to me. I think he is my only uncle, so Icouldn't go anywhere else. I wish I had a father, Mrs. Maxwell, I'malways wishing for one. I never remember my father. My mother I do, butshe was always ill, and she didn't like me to bother her. Do you know, Ithought when I came to Uncle Edward that he would be a kind of father;Miss Kent said he would. But I'm afraid he doesn't like me to bother himeither. I should like him to take me up in his arms and kiss me. Do youthink he ever will? I feel as if no one cares for me sometimes. "

"I think a certain little apple dumpling as I put in the oven for someone is smelling as if it wants to come out, " was Mrs. Maxwell's briskresponse as she bustled out of her chair, her old eyes moist withfeeling. 

In an instant Milly's pensiveness had disappeared. A baked appledumpling had great charms for her, and no one would have believed thatthe light-hearted child with the merry laugh, now dancing around theroom, and climbing up to the dresser for a plate, was the same as theone who had so sadly discoursed a few moments before on the mournfulnessof winter and of her orphaned state. 

"Did you make such nice apple dumplings for Tommy?" she asked presently, busy with her fork and spoon, and looking supremely content withherself and surroundings. 

"Ah! Didn't I? I mind when he used to come in on Saturdays from theforge, I always had a hot pudding for him. He used to say there was noone as cooked as well as mother. "

"He's a long time coming home, isn't he, Mrs. Maxwell? I get so tired ofwaiting. I wish he would come for Christmas. "

"I'm not tired of waiting, " Mrs. Maxwell said softly, "and I've waitedthese nine years, but it sometimes seems as if it is only yesterday ashe went off. I feel at times like fretting sadly over him, and wish Iknew if he was alive or dead, but then the Lord do comfort one, and Iknow He sees just where he is, and He'll let me know when the right timecomes. "

"I'm expecting him every day, " said Milly with a cheerful little nod. "Iwas telling God about him last night at my window on the stairs--and itseemed as if God said to me that he was coming very soon now. Ishouldn't wonder if he came next week!"

The keeper entered the cottage at this moment, and Milly jumped off herseat at once. 

"I'm afraid it's time for me to be going back. Nurse said I was to be inat four. Are you going to take me, Maxwell?"

"Don't I always see you safe and sound up at the house?" Maxwell saidgood-humoredly, "and do you know it has struck four ten minutes ago?When you and my old woman get together to have a crack, as the sayingis, you don't know how time passes. We shall have to run for it. "

Milly was being rapidly covered up in a thick plaid by Mrs. Maxwell. 

"There now, my dearie, good-bye till next I see you, and don't bedoleful in that big house by yourself. Your uncle will soon be well, andnurse will be better able to see after you. I don't know what all thoseservants are after that they can't amuse you a bit. "

"Nurse doesn't like me ever to go near the servants' hall, " said Milly;"I promised her I wouldn't. Sarah stays in the nursery with me, but sheruns away downstairs pretty often. Good-bye, Mrs. Maxwell. "

It was getting dark. Maxwell soon had the child in his strong arms, andwas striding along at a great pace, when passing a rather dark corner, aman suddenly sprang out of the bushes and took to his heels. 

Maxwell shouted out wrathfully: "Let me see you in here again, and itwill be the worse for you, you scoundrel!"

"Oh, Maxwell, " cried Milly, "who is it?"

"One of them skulking poachers--they're always in here after therabbits. If I hadn't a-had you to look after and had my thick stick Iwould a-been after him. "

"But you wouldn't have hurt him?"

"I should have taught him a lesson, that I should!"

"But, Maxwell, you mustn't, really! Only think, he might be--Tommycoming home! You couldn't see who it was, could you? It would bedreadful if you chased away Tommy. "

"No fear o' that, " Maxwell said in a quieter tone. "My own son wouldn'tskulk along like that. He was a ragged vagabond, that's what he was. "

"Prodigal sons are nearly always ragged. He might have been some one'sprodigal son, Maxwell. "

"He was just a poacher, my dear, and I think I know the chap. He'sstaying at the Blue Dragon, and has been a-watching this place for sometime. "

"Perhaps he is one of God's prodigal sons, " said Milly softly, "likeJack was. "

To this Maxwell made no reply, but when he set her down in thebrightly-lighted hall a little later, he said, --

"Don't you fret about our Tommy. I should know him fast enough. Hewouldn't run from his own father. "

And Milly went in, and that night added another petition to herprayers:--

"And please God, if the man who ran away from Maxwell is a prodigal son, bring him back to his father for Jesus' sake. Amen. "

CHAPTER VII. 

CROSS-EXAMINATION. 

"Nurse, where is Miss Millicent? I haven't seen her for days. Fetch herin here this afternoon, and you go and get a little fresh air; I am wellenough to be left alone now. "

Sir Edward's tone was impatient. He was getting to the convalescentstage, and nurse found him a most trying patient. Nothing would pleasehim, and he wearied both himself and her with his perpetual complaints. 

"I thought she would only worry you, sir. She has been asking me everyday to come in and see you. I will fetch her at once. "

Milly shortly appeared in a clean pinafore, her little face radiant withsmiles. As she climbed up into the chair by the bedside and gentlystroked the hand that was given her, she said with sparkling eyes, --

"Nurse says I may stay here all alone with you, uncle; won't that belovely? May I give you your medicines, and be your nurse?"

"I can't promise that, but you may sit there and talk to me. "

"What shall I talk about?"

"Anything you like. You never seem to be at a loss for conversation. "

Milly considered for a moment. 

"I've had so few people to talk to lately, you see; I generally talkmost to Fritz. He understands, I'm sure, but he doesn't talk back. Whenwill you be quite well again, uncle?"

"Not this side of Christmas, I'm afraid. "

"Oh dear, what a long time! But I'm very glad God has made you better. Nurse said it was a mercy you hadn't broken your neck. Do you know, uncle, I saw such a sad sight yesterday morning. I was down in the firplantation with Fritz, and we came upon a dear little rabbit caught in asteel trap. Maxwell said a poacher had put it there, and he was veryangry. The rabbit was quite dead, and his two hind legs were broken. Wasn't it dreadful? What is a poacher, uncle?"

"A thief--a man that steals game that isn't his. "

"Maxwell says there are lots of poachers about. I'm so afraid he willthink Tommy is one when he comes back. I do hope he will be careful, because if it's dark he might make a mistake. Wouldn't it be dreadful ifhe hurt his own prodigal son! And I expect Tommy will look very like apoacher. He is sure to have ragged, dirty clothes. If I was----" HereMilly paused, and gazed dreamily in front of her for some minutes insilence. 

"Well?" inquired Sir Edward, looking at his little niece with interestas she sat in her big chair, her elbows supported by her knees, and herchin resting in her hands, "are you going into a brown study?"

"I was just thinking if I was a prodigal son--I mean a real one, notjust playing at it, as I do--I would rather be one of God's prodigalsons, than belonging to any one else. "

"Why?"

"Because I would know for certain He would meet me and take me back. Nurse told me she had a cousin who ran away and made himself a soldier, and when he was sorry and wanted to come home, his father shut the doorin his face, and wouldn't let him in. And then there's Tommy, I can'thelp s'posing that his father mightn't know him. But God can't makemistakes. It must be lovely just to run right into God's arms, and hearHim saying, _'Bring forth the best robe, and put it on him. '_ I shouldlove to have Him say that to me. "

Milly's little face glowed with pleasure at the thought, and she turnedher expressive eyes toward her uncle, who lay with knitted browslistening to her. 

"And supposing if God would not receive you; supposing you had stayedaway so long, and had refused to listen to His voice when He called, andthen when you did want to come back, you felt it would be too late, whatwould you do then?"

Milly smiled. 

"Why, uncle, it would be never too late for God, would it? Maxwell saidhe would be glad to see Tommy if he came back in the middle of thenight, and God would never turn one of his prodigal sons away. He lovesthem so that he sent Jesus to die for them. He would never say Hecouldn't have them back again. "

Sir Edward said no more, and after another pause the child went on. 

"I was asking Mrs. Maxwell the other day if she had some best clothesfor Tommy when he came home, and she took me upstairs into his littleroom, and opened a long drawer, and told me to look inside. And therewere his best Sunday coat and waistcoat and trousers, and a silkhandkerchief with lavender in it, and a necktie with yellow and redstripes, and she told me they had been there for nine years, and sheshakes them out and brushes them every Saturday. He didn't run away inhis best clothes, you know; he left them behind. So they're quite readyfor him. The only thing Mrs. Maxwell hasn't got is the ring. "

"The what?" inquired Sir Edward, amused. 

"The ring, " Milly repeated earnestly. "Maxwell will have to say, '_Put aring on his hand, and shoes on his feet_. ' Mrs. Maxwell has got a pairof carpet slippers. I couldn't bear her not having any shoes ready forhim, so we looked about and found a pair that are just too small forMaxwell, and I put them in the drawer my own self. Mrs. Maxwell says hewon't want a ring, and that she thinks the Bible people dresseddifferently, and she said Tommy was a poor man's son: it wasn't as if hewas rich. But I don't know; I don't like to think we have no ring forhim. I suppose you haven't one, uncle, that you would like to give him?"

Sir Edward put his head back on his cushions and laughed aloud. Then, noting Milly's troubled face, he said:

"Wait till Tommy comes back, little woman, and then it will be timeenough to see about his ring, though I quite agree with his mother thatit would be most unfitting. "

"You have had the picture I gave you taken away, uncle, " said Millypresently, her quick eyes roving round the room. "Ah! you've had it hungup on the wall. That's nice there. You can see it from your bed. Don'tyou like looking at it? Doesn't it make you feel happy?"

"I can't say it does, " replied Sir Edward, glancing at the picture inquestion. "Why ought it to make me feel happy?"

"Oh, it's so nice to think he is just getting home after being away solong. I wonder if he was a great time walking back. How long do youthink it takes one of God's prodigal sons to get back to Him, uncle?"

"I should say a very long time, indeed, " said Sir Edward, slowly. 

"But how long? Two days, or six hours, or a week?"

"It would depend perhaps on how long they had been away from Him. "

"It's rather hard to understand, " said Milly, wrinkling her little browperplexedly, "because God is everywhere, isn't He? and I should havethought He would have been close by them all the time. I was askingnurse about it, and she said that God was near them, only they wouldn'thave anything to say to Him, and did bad things and shut the Lord Jesusout of their heart, and let Satan in, and then God had to leave themtill they said they said they were sorry. I suppose directly they say:'_Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in Thy sight, and am no moreworthy to be called Thy son, _' then God just folds them in His arms andforgives them and takes them back again; isn't that it?"

"Look here, I think we have had enough of this subject. Talk aboutsomething else. "

Sir Edward's tone was irritable. Milly's ready tongue obeyed. 

"Nurse says it's so cold to-day that she thinks it will snow. Do youthink it will? It is quite smoky by the river; nurse says it is a fog. Iwondered where it all came from. Do you think it might be God's breath, uncle?"

As she was chatting on, suddenly there came a sharp knock at the door, and a visitor appeared. 

"Thought I'd look you up, for I heard you were on the sick list. Goodgracious! you have been pretty bad, haven't you? Will you put me up fora night or two? I expect you want a little cheerful company. "

Talking volubly, Major Lovell--for it was he--came forward and lookedwith real concern on Sir Edward's altered face. 

"I'm very glad to see you, " said the latter, heartily, holding out hishand. "Come and stay for as long as you like. I'm sick to death of myown society. "

"And is this the small party that arrived so unexpectedly when I washere before?" inquired Major Lovell, looking down at Milly, who stillsat in the big chair, regarding the new-comer with her large brown eyes. 

"Yes, " said Sir Edward, a faint smile hovering about his lips as heremembered his horror of her advent; "she is taking charge of me thisafternoon. "

Milly held out her little hand with all the grace of a duchess. 

"I remember you, " she said; "you were one of the gentlemen that laughedat me. "

"I don't think I could have been guilty of such rudeness, surely. "

"Now, I think you may run away, " Sir Edward said, "and tell nurse I willring when I want her. "

Milly obeyed, and confided to nurse that she hoped the "new gentleman"would not keep her away from her uncle. "For do you know, nurse, I likeUncle Edward so much better when he is in bed. He looks so sad, andspeaks so softly. I wish I could sit with him every day. "

Major Lovell was a distant cousin of Sir Edward, and there existed awarm friendship between them. The very brightness of his tone seemed todo the invalid good, and Milly was quite delighted to find that heruncle's visitor not only listened with interest to the account of herfavorite games and pastimes, but insisted upon joining her in them, andthe walls of the quiet old house rang again with merry mirth andlaughter such as they had not known for years. 

Upstairs in the sick room Major Lovell proved a wonderfully patient andskillful nurse; but there were times when all his bright cheerinesscould not smooth the furrows in the invalid's brow, or take away thefretfulness of tone. 

One morning Major Lovell came down from an interview with him with apuzzled expression of face. Catching sight of Milly in the hall, equipped in hat and jacket, he asked, --

"Are you going out with nurse?"

"No, nurse is busy--just by my own self, in the avenue with Fritz. Docome with me. "

The major consented, but with a graver face than usual, and thensuddenly, very full of his own thoughts, said to the child, --

"I believe your uncle has something on his mind. It strikes me fromdifferent things he has let drop that he is turning pious. "

"What is pious?" inquired Milly, instantly. 

"What is it? A pious person thinks every one wicked but themselves, andcondemns everybody and everything all round them. They are mostobjectionable people, little woman, so mind you never take up that line, and the worst of it is that they're so satisfied with their owngoodness, that you can't crush them, try as much as you may. "

"And is Uncle Edward going to be like them?" asked the child, with aperplexed face. 

"I devoutly hope not. I shall do all in my power to prevent it. "

"What do pious people do?" questioned Milly. 

"Do! They give tracts away and sing hymns, and pull long faces over verywell-bound Bibles. "

"I like singing hymns, " asserted Milly, very emphatically; "everybodysings hymns to God, don't they? I listen to the birds, sometimes, andwish I could sing like them; and the trees sing, and the bees and flies. Everything seems to sing out of doors in the summer time, but they'venearly all dropped asleep now till next year. What hymns do you sing, Major Lovell?"

"Bless the child! what do you take me for?" and the major laughedheartily as he spoke; then, with a twinkle in his eye, he went ongravely, --

"I shall begin to think that you are pious if you don't take care. Whatelse do you do besides sing hymns?"

"I have a Bible, " said Milly, solemnly, "and I just love it. "

"And what makes you love such a dry book as the Bible? You can'tunderstand a word of it. "

"Oh, I can, Major Lovell, it's beautiful. I love nurse to read and readit to me. It tells about Jesus, you know, and I love Jesus, and He lovesme. And it has such nice stories in it. "

Major Lovell gave a long, low whistle. 

"Ah!" he said, shaking his head comically at the little figure walkingby his side, "I'm very much afraid you may be at the bottom of it all. Do you read the Bible to your uncle? Do you tell him that he has beenwasting his life and not fulfilling the end for which he was created, infact, that he is a wicked sinner? For that has been the substance ofhis talk with me this morning!"

"Uncle Edward is a very good man, " Milly replied, warmly. "I don't knowwhat you mean, Major Lovell; don't you read the Bible?"

"What will you think of me if I tell you I don't?"

"Perhaps you know it all by heart? I expect that is why. "

"I rather think I don't. You must not begin to catechise me tooseverely. Who has brought you up in this pious fashion?"

"I'm not pious. You said they were horrid people. But I thought all thegrown-up people read the Bible, except people like Jack. "

"Who is Jack?"

"He was a prodigal son, one of God's prodigal sons. "

"And what are they, may I ask?"

Milly did not answer for a minute, then she stopped short, and said verysolemnly, raising her large dark eyes to the major's face, --

"I wonder if you're a prodigal son. Uncle Edward said there were somerich ones. Have you run away from God, Major Lovell?"

"Oh, come now, " said the major, pinching her cheek good-naturedly; "Ididn't bargain for this when I came out with you. You must keep yoursermons for some one else. Come along to the stables with me, and I willgive you a ride. "

In an instant Milly's gravity disappeared, and a little time afterwardsshe was laughing gleefully as she was being trotted round thestable-yard on a large bay mare; but she said to her nurse when she camein, --

"Major Lovell is very nice, but very funny, and I can't alwaysunderstand his talk, he says such difficult things. "

CHAPTER VIII. 

"HE AROSE AND CAME TO HIS FATHER. "

Major Lovell stayed a week, and Sir Edward seemed the better for hiscompany, as far as his bodily health was concerned. But at heart he wasvery wretched, and his cousin's influence was not the sort to help him. 

"Now, old chap, make haste and get well, and don't moon over yourselfand your feelings. And come down to our place for Christmas, won't you?You're getting quite in the blues by being so much alone. "

These were Major Lovell's parting words, and Sir Edward responded, --

"No, thanks; I prefer being at home this Christmas. Why, I doubt if Ishall leave my room by that time; I am as weak as a baby. "

The week before Christmas Sir Edward was in an easy chair in thelibrary, and, though still an invalid, was now making rapid progresstowards recovery. He was conning over an article he had just written, before a blazing fire, when there was a knock at the door. A frown cameto his face as he turned to see who the intruder was, but disappeared atthe sight of his little niece, rosy and breathless, in out-doorgarments, and hugging a large piece of holly in her arms. 

"Uncle Edward, he has come!"

"Who has come?"

"Tommy--he really and truly has. Ford told me just as I came in withnurse. He heard it from Harris, and Harris heard it from Maxwellhimself. He said, 'My lad has come, tell little missy, ' and Ford saysHarris said, 'He looked as if he could dance a jig for joy!' Oh, UncleEdward, may I go to them? Nurse says it's too late, but I do want to bethere. There's such a lot to be done now he has really come; and, UncleEdward, may they kill one of the cows in the farm that are being fattedup? There's no calf, I'm afraid. May they? And may I go and tell themso? You will let me go, won't you?"

[Illustration: HUGGING A LARGE PIECE OF HOLLY IN HER ARMS. ]

"Most certainly not; it is much too late in the afternoon for you tobe going down there. It is getting quite dark, and as to one of mycattle being disposed of in that way, I should not dream of allowing itfor one moment. "

Milly's eyes filled with tears, which she vainly tried to restrain. Whenher uncle spoke to her in that tone she knew it was useless toremonstrate. 

"They'll be having the feast without me, " she said, with a little sob inher voice. "Mrs. Maxwell promised me I should be there when they had it, and I'm longing to see Tommy. "

"Then if Mrs. Maxwell promised you that, she will put off her feast tillto-morrow, " said Sir Edward in a softer tone. "And now be a sensiblelittle woman, and wait patiently till the time comes. You may be surehis parents will like to have him to themselves the first night. Runaway now; I don't want to be disturbed. "

Poor little Milly crept out of the room feeling very crestfallen, and ashort time after was lying on the hearth-rug before the nursery fire, her arms wound round Fritz's neck, confiding to him the whole story, andcomforting herself by conjecturing how and where the meeting had takenplace. Her little mind was so full of the subject that it was longbefore nurse could get her to sleep that night. Her last words beforeshe dropped off were, --

"I wonder who will do the music and dancing!"

The next morning, the instant her breakfast was over, Milly obtainednurse's permission to go down to the keeper's cottage under charge ofSarah, the nursery maid. She was away the whole morning, and about oneo'clock a message came from Mrs. Maxwell to ask if she might stay todinner with them. So that it was not till nearly four in the afternoonthat she was brought up to the house, and then, flushed and excited, shepoured into her nurse's ear a long account of all that she had beenhearing and doing. 

"Now, come, my dear, you mustn't talk forever, " was nurse's remonstranceat last; "Sir Edward told me I could send you to him for a little whenyou came in, and I must make you tidy first. "

It was quite dusk when Milly entered the library, but the brightfirelight showed her the figure of her uncle leaning back in his easychair, and indulging in a reverie. 

"Well, " he said, looking round, "where have you been all day? Down atMaxwell's, I suppose?"

"Yes, " said Milly, sedately; "and I'll tell you all about it, if youlike. May I make myself comfortable first?"

And after a minute's hesitation she climbed into the heavy armchair onthe opposite side of the fireplace, making a pretty picture, as sheleaned her curly head back on the cushion and gazed earnestly into heruncle's face. 

"We will have a crack together, uncle. That's what Maxwell calls it, when Mrs. Maxwell and I talk over the fire. May I tell you all aboutTommy now?"

"You may, " was the amused reply. 

"Well, you know, I ran as fast as I could down to the wood this morning, and Sarah ran after me, and Mrs. Maxwell saw me coming and she ran tothe door. I was rather out of breath, you see, so she just smoothed medown a little, and we kissed each other, and she cried a tiny bit, for Ifelt her tears on my face. Then she took me in to see Tommy--Maxwell wasout, and Tommy was in the kitchen in one of Maxwell's great-coats, andhe was eating some bacon at the table for his breakfast. He got up whenhe saw me--he's a nice big man, uncle, but I think his hair wantscutting. We shook hands, and I told him I'd been expecting him ever solong. He looked rather shy, but after he had quite finished hisbreakfast, we had a very nice talk, and Mrs. Maxwell went bustling aboutgetting dinner ready. Tommy told me all about himself from the verybeginning, but I really quite forget some of it. He never kept any pigsat all, but he kept some sheep instead--he went out to America and didit--and then he was a railway man, and then he had a fever, and then hegot into bad company, and at last he came to London, and he was anomnibus man there, and then a cabman, and then he drank too much beer, and his money all went away, and he was ashamed of himself, and so hewouldn't write home, and then he smashed his cab against the lamp-post, and then he drank too much again. "

"I don't think you need tell me any more of his misdoings, " said SirEdward, drily. 

"But, you see, he had to get very bad before he got good, because he wasa prodigal son. And he is sorry now. He said he never, never would havecome home until he was a good man, only one day he listened to a manpreaching a sermon in the middle of a street on a Sunday night, and hefelt uncomfortable, and then he was spoken to after by--now guess, uncle, who do you think?"

Sir Edward could not guess, so Milly went on triumphantly: "Why, it wasmy Jack, and he began to talk to him, and told him he was like him once, and he said he was looking out for a Tommy Maxwell. Now wasn't thatwonderful, when it was Tommy himself he spoke to! Well, Tommy said hehadn't the face to go home till he was better, but Jack told him not towait a day longer, for his father and mother were waiting for him; butthe strange thing was that even then Tommy waited a whole two weeksbefore he made up his mind to come. Now don't you think he was foolish, uncle?"

"Very foolish. "

"I couldn't quite understand it, but nurse says there are lots of peoplelike that, waiting to make themselves better, instead of running homejust as they are. She says some of God's prodigal sons do that; do youthink many do, uncle?"

"I daresay. "

"And Tommy said, though he wanted to see his home again dreadfully, hehad a great fight with himself to come at all. I didn't know prodigalsons found it so difficult--the one in the Bible didn't, not when heonce made up his mind. Well, and so Tommy got out at the station--I'msorry he came by train, but Jack's uncle paid for his ticket--I wouldrather he had run the whole way. "

"Why would you?" asked Sir Edward, with a smile. 

"I think it would have been more proper if he had, " said the childslowly, her head a little on one side, as she gazed thoughtfully intothe fire. "I always run or walk the whole way when I play the prodigalson. I begin rather slowly, because it looks a long way off, but when Icome near I hurry. I'm wanting to be there when I see my home. Theprodigal son didn't have a train in the Bible, and I think Tommy mighthave tried to do without it. "

The tone of reproach at the end of her speech was too much for heruncle's gravity, and he laughed aloud. 

"I am afraid Tommy has sadly disappointed you. Did he take a cab fromthe station?"

"No, he didn't do that. He got home in the afternoon, and Maxwell wascleaning his gun on the doorstep, when he saw a shadow, and he looked upand there he was! Oh! I should like to have been there, but I'm sorry tosay Maxwell didn't fall on his neck and kiss him. I asked Tommy verycarefully about it, and he said he took hold of both his hands andsqueezed them tight, and he gave a shout, and Mrs. Maxwell was doing herwashing in the back yard, and she heard it, and she shook all over sothat she could hardly walk. She cried so much when she saw Tommy thatMaxwell had to pat her on the back and give her a glass of water; andTommy he sat down on the little seat inside the porch, and hesaid--these were his very words, uncle--'I ain't fit to come home, father. I'm a disgrace to your name, ' and Mrs. Maxwell--Tommy toldme--she just took his head between her two hands, and drew it to rest onher shoulder, and then she bent down and kissed him all over and shesaid:--

"'My boy, who should you come to when you are in disgrace and troublebut your own father and mother?'

"Tommy said, when he told me this, 'It fair broke my heart, miss, ' andthen he gave a great sob, and I began to cry, and then Mrs. Maxwell cameup, and her hands were all floury, for she was making an apple pudding, and she cried too, and then we all cried together--at least, Tommyturned his head away and pretended he didn't, but I saw he did. "

Milly paused for breath, and her eyes looked wistfully into the glowingcoals before her. 

"I didn't know prodigal sons were sad when they came back, but Tommyseemed so sad that he made me sad too. Why do you think Tommy cried, uncle?"

Sir Edward did not reply. He was gazing dreamily into the fire, andsomething of the wistfulness in his little niece's face seemed to bereflected in his. He gave a start after a moment's silence. 

"Eh, child? What are you saying? Have you finished your story?"

"Why, no, uncle, not nearly. Are you tired? Nurse said I must not tireyou too much. "

Sir Edward laughed, but it was not a happy laugh. 

"Oh, finish your story by all means, little woman, " he said, and Millycontinued:--

"We all cheered up when Mrs. Maxwell asked me if I'd like to stay todinner. I asked if it was the feast, and she laughed and said, 'Yes. 'She had a roast leg of pork in the oven, with some stuffing and applesauce, and, uncle, it was lovely! Maxwell came in just in time, and helooked so happy, and then we all sat down to dinner, but I asked Maxwellto say first before we began: '_Let us eat, and be merry, for this myson was dead, and is alive again, he was lost, and is found_. ' He foldedhis hands and said it like grace, and Mrs. Maxwell said 'Amen' when hehad finished, and wiped her eyes with her apron. I told them we must allbe very merry, but Tommy wasn't, I'm afraid. He kept looking first atMrs. Maxwell and then all round the kitchen, and then at Maxwell, andthen he sighed very big sighs. He said he couldn't believe he was athome, but he told me, when I asked him quietly afterwards, that he wasreally very happy, he only sighed and looked sad because he thought howfoolish he had been to stay away so long. I was very sorry for one thingabout him, uncle. He wasn't in his best clothes. They were all too smallfor him, and the slippers wouldn't fit him, but Maxwell says he will buyhim some new ones to-morrow. And Tommy told me he wouldn't wear a ringif he had one. He asked me why he should, so I told him about theprodigal son in the Bible--he seemed to like hearing about it, and hesaid he thought he was very like him. And then I asked about the musicand dancing. I wanted to have that, but we couldn't manage it. Mrs. Maxwell said we had music in our hearts; how can we have that, uncle? Ididn't hear any in mine, for I kept silent and listened for it. "

"I expect she meant you were so happy that you did not want any music tomake you happier. "

"I was very happy. Oh, Uncle Edward, why won't all the prodigal sons gohome? I can't think why they like staying away. It is so lovely to thinkof Tommy now! And every one would be just as happy, wouldn't they?"

"I don't think all young men have such fond parents as your friendTommy has, " said Sir Edward gravely. 

"Haven't they? Well, God's prodigal sons couldn't have a nicer father. Ilie and think of them when I'm in bed sometimes, and I talk to God aboutthem. I was so glad when Jack went back to Him. I think it is worst ofall to stay a long way off from God, because He does love them so. Iwonder if it is that they don't know whether God will take them back. Tommy seemed half afraid till he came, that his father would be angrywith him. I should like to see a prodigal son running back into God'sarms so much! But I suppose he does it very quietly, and only the angelslook down and see it!"

"And what is this young scapegrace going to do now? Live on his fatherand mother, or is he going to try and do some honest work?"

Sir Edward's tone was rather impatient. Milly looked up surprised. 

"Do you mean Tommy, uncle? Are you angry with him? He told me he wasgoing to look for work directly, and Maxwell is coming up to speak toyou about him to-morrow. "

"Ah! I daresay--wants him to take the place of under-keeper, I suppose, "and Sir Edward gave a little grunt of dissatisfaction at the thought. 

CHAPTER IX. 

"A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM. "

When Sir Edward retired to his room that night, he paced up and down forsome time in front of his little niece's picture that she had given him. His brow was knitted, and he was thinking deeply. 

"I am longing to have peace, " he muttered. "Why cannot I make up my mindto seek it! '_I will arise_'--ay, easy to say; it's a hard and bitterthing for a backslider to retrace his steps. How the child stabs mesometimes, and how little she knows my past!"

He stopped and gazed at the picture. "And the Lord Himself used this asan illustration. I could not want anything stronger. "

A deep-drawn sigh followed, then a heartfelt cry rose to heaven. 

"May God have mercy on me, and bring me back, for I can't bring myself!"

The next morning Sir Edward had an interview with his keeper, whobrought his son up with him, and as the tall, broad-shouldered youngfellow stood before the squire, and in earnest, humble tones asked if hecould be given a chance of redeeming his character by being employed onthe estate, Sir Edward's severity relaxed, and after a long conversationwith him he promised he would give him a trial. 

He smiled grimly to himself as father and son left him with warmexpressions of gratitude. 

"So that is the child's hero! One whose example I might well follow. Hehas had the courage at last to take the step from which I am stillshrinking. Why should I fear that my welcome home would be less full oflove and forgiveness than his?"

It was Christmas eve, a wild and stormy day. The wind raged ceaselesslyround the old house, howling down the chimneys, and beating the branchesof the trees outside against the window panes. 

Milly had been very busy for some hours helping Ford to decorate thehall and rooms with holly and evergreen, though Ford would every nowand then pause in his work, saying:

"There, Miss Milly, I'm sure we're overdoing it. If the house was fullof company now, I would take a pride in it, but I don't believe themaster will notice whether it's done or not. It seems to me as he isgetting more and more shut up into hisself lately. Christmas is a dulltime with us. "

All was finished at last, and Milly went up to the nursery and stood atthe window, her bright brown eyes eagerly scanning and taking note ofevery object out of doors. 

"It's a perfect hurricane, " said nurse, presently, as she sat with herwork in a comfortable chair by the fire. "If we feel it inland likethis, what must it be at sea!"

"I should like to be on the sea, " said Milly. "I love the wind, but Ithink it is getting a little bit too rough this afternoon. I'm ratherafraid it will hurt the little trees. Ford said if I went out I shouldbe blown away. Do you think, nurse, if the wind was very, very strong itwould ever be able to blow me up to heaven?"

"I am afraid not, " said nurse, gravely, "and I don't think we couldspare you, my dear. You would not like to leave this world yet awhile. "

"Sometimes I think I should, and sometimes I think I shouldn't. I thinkI should like to be blown up to spend a day there, and then come backagain. Oh, nurse, Goliath is screaming and cracking so! I wish the windwould knock him over, he is a horrid old tree. I always think he ismaking faces at me when I run past him. Wouldn't it be nice to see himblown down?"

"You mustn't wish that, " said nurse, getting up from her chair andmoving towards the door; "it's a dangerous thing for an old tree to beblown down. Now I am going downstairs for a short time, so be a goodchild and don't get into mischief while I am away. "

Milly remained at the window for some minutes after nurse's departure, then her quick eyes noticed a poor wretched little kitten mewingpitifully as she vainly tried to shelter herself from the violent blastsby crouching close to a tree. 

In an instant, without thought of consequences, the child darted to thenursery door and down the broad oak staircase. 

"Poor pussy, I will run and fetch her in. I expect she has run awayfrom the kitchen. "

Sir Edward was writing at his study table, when an unusually violentgust of wind caused him to raise his eyes and glance out of the window. There, to his amazement, he saw, under the old oak tree on the lawn, hislittle niece, her golden brown curls flying as she battled with theelements, and struggled vainly to stoop and take the kitten in her arms. 

He started up from his seat, but as he did so a blast that shook thehouse swept by; there was an awful cracking, then a crash, and, to hishorror, a huge limb of the old oak came with an awful thud upon the veryspot where his little niece was standing. 

"My God, save her!" was his agonized cry, as he saw at the same momentthe little figure stagger and fall. Then, forgetting his weakness andlack of physical strength, he dashed out of the house, and in anotherinstant was standing over her. 

His first feeling was one of intense thankfulness to find that thebranch in falling could have only slightly grazed her, as she was lyingon the ground untouched by it; but as he raised the motionless figure, and noted a red mark on her forehead which was swelling rapidly, hisheart sank within him. It did not take him long to carry her into herhouse, and he was met at the door by nurse, who wisely wasted no time inuseless lamentation, but set to work at once to restore animation to herlittle charge. Her efforts were successful. Milly was only slightlystunned, but it had been a miraculous escape, and had the blow been aninch nearer her temple it might have been fatal. As it was, the childwas more frightened than hurt, and when a little time after her uncletook her in his arms with unwonted tenderness, she clung to him andburst into passionate sobs. 

"Take care of me, uncle! That nasty old Goliath! He tried to kill me, hedid! I saw him coming on the top of me. God only just saved me in time, didn't He?"

When the bruise had been bathed and dressed by nurse, Sir Edward stillkept her on his knee, and after nurse had left the room, and the childrested her little head on his shoulder in a very subdued frame of mind, he did, what he had never done yet--stooped over her and kissed her, saying:

"You have been very near death this afternoon, little one, and I couldill have spared you. "

Milly raised her large dark eyes to his. 

"If I had died I should have gone straight up to God, shouldn't I?"

"Yes, you would. "

"I should have liked that. I suppose He doesn't want me yet, or He wouldhave sent for me. "

When she came down to her uncle that evening she raised a very sadlittle face to his from the opposite side of the table. 

"Uncle Edward, have you heard who Goliath really did kill?"

"Do you mean the tree that came on you? No one else was hurt, I hope?"and Sir Edward's tone was a little anxious. 

"She was killed dead--quite dead and mangled, nurse said. It was thepoor little kitten, uncle, that I ran out to fetch. "

The brown eyes were swimming with tears, and Milly could not understandthe smile that came to Sir Edward's lips. 

"Only a kitten. Well, it was sad, I daresay, but there are plenty ofkittens about the place. "

"But, uncle, I've been thinking so much about this one. Ford says shehad run away from the stable. I expect she was going to be a prodigalkitten, perhaps, and now she'll never run away any more. It's so sadabout her, and I think why it is sad is because nobody cares, not evennurse. She said she would rather it had been the kitten than me. Poorlittle kitty, her mother will be missing her so to-night! Do you think, uncle, the wind or Goliath killed her? I think it was Goliath. I justlooked out of my window on the stairs before I came down. The wind hasstopped now, and the trees seemed to be crying and sobbing together. I'msure they were sorry for kitty. I think they were tired out themselves, too, they have been so knocked about to-day. I wish so much I had beenjust in time to save the dear little kitten. "

"We will not talk about her any more, " said Sir Edward cheerfully. "Haveyou seen Tom Maxwell lately?"

Milly's little tongue was only too ready to talk of him. 

"He helped nurse and me to get some holly in the wood yesterday. I havenice talks with him often. He says he is very happy, and this will bethe best Christmas he has spent in his life. Uncle, I want to ask yousomething. I've been thinking of it a great deal to-day, only since Iwas knocked down this afternoon I've had such a pain in my head I leftoff thinking. But I've just remembered it now. You see it is reallyJesus Christ's birthday to-morrow, and I was thinking I've been gettingpresents for every one in the house but Him. Nurse has been helping mewith some of them. I've made nurse a kettleholder, and cook aneedlebook, and I've bought a penknife for Ford, and a thimble forSarah, and some handkerchiefs for Maxwell and Mrs. Maxwell, and somewoolen gloves for Tommy. And I've nothing--no nothing for Him. If I onlyknew something He would like. "

She paused, and a soft wistfulness came into her eyes. 

"I was thinking, " she went on, "that perhaps I could put my present forHim outside the nursery window on the ledge. And then when we are all inbed, and it is very quiet, I expect He might send an angel down tobring it up to Him. I think He might do that, because He knows how muchI want to give Him something. But then I don't know what to give Him. Could you tell me, uncle?"

"I think, " said Sir Edward, gravely, "the only way you can give Hima Christmas present is to give something to the poor. He would ratherhave that. I will give you this to put in the plate to-morrow inchurch. "

And Sir Edward put his hand in his pocket, and rolled a coin across thetable to his little niece. 

But Milly was not satisfied. 

"This is your present, " she said, doubtfully. "What will you give Himthis Christmas besides? Is money the only thing you can give Him, uncle?"

Sir Edward pushed back his chair and rose from the table. His feelingswere almost getting beyond his control. With the one subject that wasnow always foremost in his thoughts, the child's question rang again inhis ears, "Is money the only thing you can give Him, uncle?" And like aflash of light came a reply:

"No, I can give myself back to Him, my soul and body, that have nowbeen so long in the keeping of His enemy. "

After a few minutes' silence he said, in a strangely quiet voice:

"Come, little one, it is bedtime; say 'Good-night, ' and run up tonurse!"

Milly came up to him, and as he stood with his back to the fire warminghis hands, she took hold of the ends of his coat in her little hands, and, looking up at him, said:

"Uncle Edward, you gave me a kiss like a father might have done thisafternoon. Would you mind very much giving me another?"

Sir Edward looked down at the sweet little face raised so coaxingly tohis, and then took her up in his arms; but after he had given her thedesired kiss he said, with some effort, --

"I want you to do something to-night, little one. When you say yourprayers, ask that one of God's prodigal sons may be brought back thisChristmas time. It is one who wants to return. Will you pray for him?"

"Yes, uncle, " replied the child softly. "And will you tell me his name?"

"No, I cannot do that. "

Something in his face made his little niece refrain from asking furtherquestions. She left him a moment later, and Sir Edward went to thesmoking-room and seated himself in a chair by the fire. The chimes ofthe village church were ringing out merrily, and presently outside inthe avenue a little company of carol singers were singing the sweet oldChristmas truths that none can hear untouched. 

"_Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will towardmen_. "

A sense of the love of God seemed to surround his soul, and this versecame into his mind as he mused:--

"_I have loved thee with an everlasting love, therefore withloving-kindness have I drawn thee_. "

Could he not trace in the events of the last few months the hand of aloving Father gently calling His wanderer home? Stricken down himself, placed on a sick bed for reflection, brought to the edge of the valleyof the shadow of death, and then tenderly restored to life and health;the gentle voice and life of a little child pleading with him day byday, and that life having so lately been miraculously preserved from agreat danger--all this filled his heart with the realization of themercy and loving-kindness of God; and when again the past came up beforehim, and the tempter drew near again with the old refrain, "You havewandered too long, you have hardened your heart, and God has shut hisear to your cry!" Sir Edward, by the help and power of the DivineSpirit, was able to look up, and say from the depths of his heart, --

"_Father, I have sinned against Heaven, and in Thy sight, and am no moreworthy to be called Thy son. "_

They were sitting in the study the next afternoon, the child upon hisknee, when Sir Edward said suddenly, --

"Do you know that I have received a letter to-day about you?"

"Who from?" asked Milly, with interest. 

"From my sister, your aunt, in Australia. I wrote to her when you came, and she wants to have you out there, and bring you up among her ownchildren. She says a friend of hers will take charge of you and take youto her next month. I must talk to nurse about it. "

The little hands clutched hold of his coat sleeve tightly, but not aword did Milly say. Sir Edward noted a slight quivering of the lips, anda piteous gleam in the soft brown eyes. He waited in silence for amoment, then said cheerfully, --

"Won't you be glad to have a lot of boys and girls to play with, insteadof staying here with a lonely old man?"

Still the child said nothing; but suddenly down went the curly head uponhis arm, and the tears came thick and fast. 

Sir Edward raised the little face to his, --

"We must not have tears on Christmas Day, " he said. "What is the matter, don't you want to go?"

"I suppose I must, " sobbed Milly. "Ford told nurse the day I came thatyou hated children. I've always been thinking of it, but you have beenso kind to me that I thought perhaps he had made a little mistake. MissKent didn't want me, and now you don't want me, and perhaps my auntwon't want me when I get there. I wish God wanted me, but I'm afraid Hedoesn't. Nurse says she thinks He wants me to work for Him when I growup. I think--I think I'm rather like the little kitten yesterday, thatnobody was sorry for when she died. You said there were plenty morekittens, didn't you?"

"I don't think there are plenty of small Millicents in this world, " andSir Edward's voice was husky. "Now listen, little woman. I have beenthinking over the matter, and have decided this afternoon to keep youwith me. I find I do want you after all, and cannot afford to lose you. Supposing we dry these tears, and talk about something else. "

And as the little arms were thrown round his neck, and a face full ofsmiles and tears like an April shower was lifted to his, the "confirmedold bachelor" took to his heart the little maiden whose very existencehad so annoyed and distressed him only a few months before. 

"Uncle Edward, " she said, a little time after, "do you know if thatprodigal son you told me about last night has come back to God?"

Sir Edward was silent for a minute, then very gravely and solemnly hesaid:

"I think he has, little one. It has been a very happy Christmas Day tohim, and you must pray now that he may not be ashamed to own his Lord, who has so mercifully brought him back through the instrumentality ofone of His lambs. "