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diff --git a/old/10777-h.zip b/old/10777-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..71874db --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10777-h.zip diff --git a/old/10777-h/10777-h.htm b/old/10777-h/10777-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3ca3969 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10777-h/10777-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3594 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" + content="text/html; charset=us-ascii"> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of + "Probable Sons", + by Amy Lefeuvre. +</title> +<style type="text/css"> + <!-- + * { font-family: Times;} + P { text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: .75em; + font-size: 12pt; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; } + HR { width: 33%; } + PRE { font-family: Courier, monospaced; } + // --> +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Probable Sons, by Amy LeFeuvre + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Probable Sons + +Author: Amy LeFeuvre + +Release Date: January 22, 2004 [EBook #10777] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PROBABLE SONS *** + + + + +Produced by Joel Erickson, Michael Ciesielski, Garrett Alley and PG +Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h1>"PROBABLE SONS"</h1> +<p> </p> +<center> +<b>BY AMY LEFEUVRE </b> +</center> +<p> </p> +<center> +AUTHOR OF "CHERRY," "THE ODD ONE," ETC. +</center> +<p> </p> +<center> +"<i>A little child shall lead them</i>." +</center> +<p> </p> +<center> +1896 +</center> + +<p> </p> + +<a name="image-1"><!-- Image 1 --></a> +<center> +<img src="./images/image02.png" width="450" height="727" +alt="The Broken Statue."> +</center> + + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<hr> + +<a name="TOC"><!-- TOC --></a> +<h2> + CONTENTS. +</h2> +<p><a href="#CH1">CHAPTER I. AN UNWELCOME LEGACY</a></p> +<p><a href="#CH2">CHAPTER II. DAVID AND GOLIATH</a></p> +<p><a href="#CH3">CHAPTER III. HE FIRST PUNISHMENT</a></p> +<p><a href="#CH4">CHAPTER IV. MRS. MAXWELL'S SORROW</a></p> +<p><a href="#CH5">CHAPTER V. A PRODIGAL</a></p> +<p><a href="#CH6">CHAPTER VI. A PROMISE KEPT</a></p> +<p><a href="#CH7">CHAPTER VII. CROSS-EXAMINATION</a></p> +<p><a href="#CH8">CHAPTER VIII. "HE AROSE AND CAME TO HIS FATHER"</a></p> +<p><a href="#CH9">CHAPTER IX. "A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM"</a></p> + + +<hr> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<a name="CH1"><!-- CH1 --></a> +<h2> + CHAPTER I. +</h2> + +<center> +AN UNWELCOME LEGACY. +</center> +<p> +"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 till +they reach a sensible age is what puzzles me! And I suppose if anything +could make the matter worse, it is that this is a girl." +</p> +<p> +The tone of disgust with which the last word was uttered brought a laugh +from Sir Edward Wentworth's companion, who replied, as he took his cigar +from his mouth and gazed critically into the worried, perplexed face of +his host— +</p> +<p> +"My dear fellow, she is not of an age yet to trouble you much. Wait till +she gets a bit older. When her education is finished, and she takes +possession of you and your house, will be the time for you to look to +us for pity!" +</p> +<p> +"Look here, Sir Edward," said a bright looking youth from the other side +of the room, "I'll give you a bit of advice. Send the child straight off +to school. Is she coming to-day? Good. Then pack her off to-morrow, and +keep her there as long as is needful. Then I will go down and inspect +her, and if she grows up to be a moderately decent-looking girl, I will +do you a good turn by taking her off your hands. She will have a nice +little fortune, you informed us, and if you will give her something in +addition, out of gratitude to me for relieving you of all responsibility +concerning her, upon my word I think I should not do badly!" +</p> +<p> +But Sir Edward was not in a mood to joke. He looked gloomily around upon +his friends as they gathered around the smoking-room fire after a hard +day's shooting, and remarked— +</p> +<p> +"I know what is before me. I have seen it in my sister's family, and +have heard something of all her toils and troubles. How thankful I was +when she and hers were translated to Australia, and the sea came between +us! It is first the nurses, who run off with one's butler, make love to +the keepers, and bring all kinds of followers about the house, who +sometimes make off with one's plate. Then it's the governesses, who come +and have a try at the guests, or most likely in my case they would set +their affections on me, and get the reins of government entirely into +their hands. If it is school, then there is a mass of correspondence +about the child's health and training; and, in addition, I shall have +all the ladies in the neighborhood coming to mother the child and tell +me how to train it. It is a bad look-out for me, I can tell you, and not +one of you would care to be in my shoes." +</p> +<p> +"What is the trouble, Ned?" asked a new-comer, opening the door and +glancing at the amused faces of those surrounding Sir Edward, all of +whom seemed to be keenly enjoying their host's perplexity. +</p> +<p> +"He has received a legacy to-day, that is all," was the response; "he +has had an orphan niece and nurse sent to him from some remote place in +the Highlands. Come, give us your case again, old fellow, for the +benefit of your cousin." +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward, a grave, abstracted-looking man, with an iron-grey +moustache and dark, piercing eyes, looked up with a desponding shake of +the head, and repeated slowly and emphatically— +</p> +<p> +"A widowed sister of mine died last year, and left her little girl in +the charge of an old school friend, who has now taken a husband to +herself and discarded the child, calmly sending me the following +letter:— +</p> +<pre> + '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.' +</pre> +<p> +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 house +at this present moment. Don't you think it a hard case for such a +confirmed bachelor as I am?" +</p> +<p> +"I do indeed," was the hearty reply; "but I think you will find a way +out of it, Ned. Take a wife unto yourself, and she will relieve you of +all responsibility." +</p> +<p> +There was a general laugh at this, but in the midst of it the door +slowly opened, and the subject of all this discussion appeared on the +threshold, a fragile little figure, with long, golden-brown hair, and a +pair of dark brown eyes that looked calmly and searchingly in front of +her. Clad in white, with her dimpled hands crossed in front of her, she +stood there for a moment in silence, then spoke:— +</p> +<p> +"Where is my Uncle Edward?" +</p> +<p> +"Here," replied Sir Edward, as he looked helplessly round, first at his +friends and then at his small niece. +</p> +<p> +The child stepped up to him with perfect composure, and held out her +little hand, which her uncle took, undergoing all the while a severe +scrutiny from the pair of dark eyes fixed upon him. There was dead +silence in the room. Sir Edward's companions were delighting in the +scene, and his great discomfiture only heightened their enjoyment. +</p> +<p> +"Well," he said at length, rather feebly, "I think you know the look of +me 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." +</p> +<p> +"I was thinking you would kiss me," and the child's lips began to +quiver, while a pink flush rose to her cheeks, and she glanced wistfully +round, in the hope of seeing some sympathetic face near her. +</p> +<p> +But Sir Edward could not bring himself to do this. Laying his hand on +the curly head raised to his, he patted it as he might his dog, and +said,— +</p> +<p> +"There, there! Now you have introduced yourself to me, you can run away. +What is your name? Millicent, isn't it?" +</p> +<p> +"Milly is my name. And are all these gentlemen my uncles too?" +</p> +<p> +The tone of doubtful inquiry was too much for the little company, and +Milly's question was answered by a shout of laughter. +</p> +<p> +Again the child's face flushed, and then a grey-haired man stepped +forward. +</p> +<p> +"Come, Wentworth, this is a severe ordeal for such a mite. I have +grandchildren of my own, so am not so scared as you. Now, little one, is +that better?" +</p> +<p> +And in an instant the child was lifted by him and placed upon his knee +as he took a seat by the fire. +</p> +<p> +Milly heaved a short sigh. +</p> +<p> +"I like this," she said, looking up at him confidingly. "Does Uncle +Edward really want me to go to bed? Nurse said it wasn't time yet. Nurse +wanted her supper, so she sent me in here while she had it." +</p> +<p> +"The reign of the nurse has begun," said Sir Edward. "Well, it may be a +very fine joke to all you fellows, but if I don't make my authority felt +at once, it will be all up with me. Lovell, be so good as to ring that +bell." +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward's voice was irate when his old butler appeared. +</p> +<p> +"Ford, take this child to her nurse, and tell her that she is never to +appear in my presence again unless sent for. Now, Millicent, go at +once." +</p> +<p> +The child slid down from her seat, but though evidently puzzled at the +quick, sharp words, she seemed to have no fear, for, going up to her +uncle, she slipped her little hand into his. +</p> +<p> +"Are you angry, uncle? What does 'presence' mean? Will you say, +'Good-night; God bless you,' to me?" +</p> +<p> +With the baby fingers clinging to his, what could Sir Edward say? +</p> +<p> +"Good-night; good-night, child! Now go." +</p> +<p> +"Say, 'God bless you!'" persisted the little one, and it was not till +her uncle muttered the desired words that she relinquished her hold and +followed the butler sedately out of the room. +</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<a name="CH2"><!-- CH2 --></a> +<h2> + CHAPTER II. +</h2> + +<center> +DAVID AND GOLIATH. +</center> +<p> +Sir Edward Wentworth was, as he expressed it, a "confirmed bachelor," +and though during the autumn months he was quite willing to fill his +house with his London friends, he was better pleased to live the greater +part of the year in seclusion, occupying himself with looking after his +estate and writing articles for several of the leading reviews of the +day. +</p> +<p> +The advent of his small niece was indeed a great trial to him, but, with +his characteristic thoroughness, he determined that he would make the +necessary arrangements for her comfort. Accordingly he had a long +interview with her nurse the following morning. It proved to be +satisfactory. The nurse was a staid, elderly woman, who assured him she +was accustomed to the sole charge of the child, and would keep her +entirely under her own control. +</p> +<p> +"I expect you would like her to be sent down to you in the evening—at +dessert, perhaps, sir?" she inquired. +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward pulled the ends of his moustache dubiously. "Is it necessary? +I thought children ought to be in bed at that time." +</p> +<p> +"Of course it shall be as you like, sir. You do not dine so late as some +do. I thought you would expect to see her once in the day." +</p> +<p> +After a little hesitation Sir Edward gave his permission; and when he +found that Milly neither screamed nor snatched for the fruit on the +table, and did not herself engross the whole conversation, he became +quite reconciled to the little white figure stealing in and occupying +the chair that was always placed at his left-hand side for her. +</p> +<p> +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 his +ordinary life, he was constantly coming across her. Sometimes he would +find her in the stables, her arms round the stable cat, and the grooms +holding a voluble conversation with her, or among the cows at the bottom +of the paddock, or feeding the pigs and fowls in the poultry yard. +Generally she was attended by Fritz, a beautiful collie, who had, with +the fickleness of his nature, transferred his affection from his master +to her, and though uncertain in temper towards most, was never anything +but amiable when with the little girl. +</p> +<p> +Her uncle's form approaching was quite a sufficient hint to her to make +herself scarce. She would generally anticipate the usual formula: "Now +run 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 standing +the little figure would be running off in the distance, Fritz close at +her heels. +</p> +<p> +One afternoon Sir Edward was returning from a stroll up the avenue when +he saw the child at play among the trees, and for a moment he paused and +watched her. She appeared to be very busy with a doll wrapped in a fur +rug which she carefully deposited at the foot of the tree; then for some +minutes she and Fritz seemed to be having a kind of a game of hide and +seek with one another, until she pushed him into a bush and commanded +him to stay there. Suddenly dog and child darted at each other, and +then, to Sir Edward's amazement, he saw his little niece seize Fritz by +the throat and bring him to the ground. When both were rolling over one +another, 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. +</p> +<p> +"Millicent," he called out sharply, "come to me at once; what are you +doing?" +</p> +<p> +In an instant Milly was upon her feet, and lifting a hot flushed little +face to his, she placed herself in her favorite attitude when in his +presence; her hands clasped behind her back, and feet closely planted +together. +</p> +<p> +"Don't you know Fritz might bite if you are so rough with him? Were you +trying to choke him?" demanded her uncle. +</p> +<p> +"Yes," she responded, breathless from her late exertions, "I was trying +to kill him! He's a bear, and that's my lamb, and I am David; that's +all." +</p> +<p> +A child's games were beyond Sir Edward's comprehension. He looked down +upon her with a knitted brow. +</p> +<p> +She continued— +</p> +<p> +"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 she +is too big; I can't knock her down, though I try hard." +</p> +<p> +"I will not have Fritz knocked down in that fashion. He might hurt you," +said Sir Edward, sternly. +</p> +<p> +Milly looked sorrowful; then brightening up, she asked— +</p> +<p> +"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's +Goliath. He is looking at me now. Do you see where his eyes come? Just +up there in those first branches. When it's windy he shakes his head at +me fearful! He's a wicked, wicked old thing, and he thinks no one can +knock him down. Do you remember about him, uncle?" +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward was becoming slightly interested. He leaned against a tree +and took out a cigar. +</p> +<p> +"No, I don't think I do," he said. +</p> +<p> +"Don't you remember? He stood up so proud, and called out: 'Choose a man +to 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." +</p> +<p> +She darted away to where her doll was, and soon returned with a tiny +calico bag, which she opened very carefully and disclosed to her uncle's +puzzled gaze five round stones. +</p> +<p> +"You see," she went on, "it's a pity I haven't a sling, but Tom in the +stable 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 bit +afraid, though he looks so big, because David wasn't, you know. God +helped him. Now, Goliath, I'm ready!" +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward looked on in some amusement as Milly stepped out with regular +even steps until she was about twenty feet from the tree, then suddenly +stopped. +</p> +<p> +"I hear what you say, Goliath. You say you'll give my body to be pecked +at and eaten by the birds; but you won't do that, for I am coming, and I +am going to kill you." +</p> +<p> +And then with all her strength the child flung her stones one by one at +the tree, pausing for some moments when she had done so. +</p> +<p> +"He's quite dead, uncle," she said calmly, as she retraced her steps and +stood before Sir Edward, again looking up at him with those earnest eyes +of hers, "quite dead; and if I had a sword I would play at cutting off +his head. I suppose you wouldn't lend me your sword hanging up in the +hall, would you?" +</p> +<p> +"Most certainly not," was the quick reply. Then taking his cigar from +his mouth, Sir Edward asked: +</p> +<p> +"And does all your play consist in killing people?" +</p> +<p> +"I only try to kill the bear and lion and Goliath, because they're so +wicked and so strong." +</p> +<p> +Milly continued,— +</p> +<p> +"This is such a lovely place to play in—trees are so nice to have games +with. Shall I tell you some more? Do you see that little tree over +there? That's where I sit when I'm the probable son, and when I've sat +there a long time and been very miserable, and eaten some of the beech +nuts that do for husks, then suddenly I think I will go home to my +father. 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 my +father. Do you see that nice big old tree right up there with the red +leaves, 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 then +I just hug him and kiss him; and, do you know, I feel he hugs and kisses +me back. He does in the story, you know. And then I have a nice little +feast all ready. I get some biscuits from nurse, and a little jam, and +some sugar and water, and I sit down and feel so happy to think I'm not +the probable son any more, and haven't got to eat husks or be with the +pigs. Don't you think that's a beautiful game, uncle?" +</p> +<p> +"Do you get all your games from the Bible?" inquired Sir Edward. "I +somehow think it is not quite correct," and he looked very dubiously at +his little niece as he spoke. +</p> +<p> +"Well," said Milly, the earnest look coming into her eyes again, "I love +the 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?" +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward replaced his cigar in his mouth and strolled on without a +reply. His little niece's words awakened very uncomfortable feelings +within his heart. Years before he had known and loved his Bible well. He +had been active in Christian work, and had borne many a scoff and jeer +from his companions when at Oxford for being "pious," as they termed it. +But there came a time when coldness crept into his Christianity, and +worldly ambition and desires filled his soul. Gradually he wandered +farther and farther away from the right path, and when he came into his +property he took possession of it with no other aim and object in life +than to enjoy himself in his own way and to totally ignore both the past +and future. Beyond going to church once on Sunday he made no profession +of religion, but that custom he conformed to most regularly, and the +vicar of the parish had nothing to complain of in the way in which his +appeals for charity were met by the squire. It is needless to say that +Sir Edward was not a happy man. There were times when he could not bear +his own thoughts and the solitude of his position; and at such times +there was a hasty departure for town, and some weeks of club life +ensued, after which he would return to his home, and engross himself in +both his literary and country occupations with fresh vigor. +</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<a name="CH3"><!-- CH3 --></a> +<h2> + CHAPTER III. +</h2> + +<center> +THE FIRST PUNISHMENT. +</center> +<p> +Slowly but surely little Milly was advancing in her uncle's favor. Her +extreme docility and great fearlessness, added to her quaintness of +speech and action, attracted him greatly. He became interested in +watching her little figure as it flitted to and fro, and the sunny laugh +and bright childish voice about the house were no longer an annoyance to +him. +</p> +<p> +One day he was moved to anger by an accident that happened to a small +statue in the hall and Milly was the delinquent. Her ball had rolled +behind it, and both she and the dog were having a romp to get it, when +in the scuffle the statue came to the ground and lay there in a thousand +pieces. Hearing the crash, Sir Edward came out of his study, and +completely losing his temper, he turned furiously upon the child, giving +vent to language that was hardly fit for her ears to hear. She stood +before him with round, frightened eyes and quivering lips, her little +figure upright and still, until she could bear it no longer; and then +she turned and fled from him through the garden door out upon the smooth +grassy lawn, where she flung herself down face foremost close to her +favorite beech tree, there giving way to a burst of passionate tears. +</p> +<p> +"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 I +had a father! I want a father like the probable son; he wouldn't be so +angry!" +</p> +<p> +And when later on nurse came, with an anxious face, to fetch her little +charge 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 the +words,— +</p> +<p> +"Oh, nurse, dear, carry me in your arms. No one loves me here. I've been +telling God all about it. He's the only One that isn't angry." +</p> +<p> +That evening, at the accustomed time, Milly stole quietly into the +dining-room, wondering in her little heart whether her uncle was still +angry with her. +</p> +<p> +As she climbed into her chair, now placed on the opposite side of the +large table, she eyed him doubtfully through her long eyelashes; then +gathering courage from the immovable expression of his face, she said in +her most cheerful tone,— +</p> +<p> +"It's a very fine night, uncle." +</p> +<p> +"Is it?" responded Sir Edward, who was accustomed by this time to some +such remark when his little niece wanted to attract his notice. Then +feeling really ashamed of his outburst a few hours before, he said, by +way of excusing himself,—"Look here, Millicent, you made me exceedingly +angry by your piece of mischief this afternoon. That statue can never be +replaced, and you have destroyed one of my most valuable possessions. +Let it be a warning for the future. If ever you break anything again, I +shall punish you most severely. Do you understand?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes, uncle," she answered, looking up earnestly. "'You will punish me +<i>most</i> 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 'unfortunate +accident.' I asked her what an accident was. She says it's a thing that +happens when you don't expect it—a surprise, she called it. I'm sure +it was a dreadful surprise to me, and to Fritz, too; but I'll never play +ball in the hall again, <i>never</i>!" +</p> +<p> +A week later, and Sir Edward was in his study, absorbed in his books and +papers, when there was a knock at his door, and, to his astonishment, +his little niece walked in. This was so against all rules and +regulations that his voice was very stern as he said,— +</p> +<p> +"What is the meaning of this intrusion, Millicent? You know you are +never allowed to disturb me when here." +</p> +<p> +Milly did not answer for a moment. She walked up to her uncle, her small +lips tightly closed, and then, standing in front of him with clasped +hands, she said,— +</p> +<p> +"I've come to tell you some dreadful news." +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward pushed aside his papers, adjusted his glasses, and saw from +the 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 presence +uncalled for. +</p> +<p> +"It's a dreadful surprise again," Milly continued, "but I told nurse I +must tell you at once. I—I felt so bad here," and her little hand was +laid pathetically on her chest. +</p> +<p> +"Well, what is it? Out with it, child! You are wasting my time," said +her uncle impatiently. +</p> +<p> +"I have—I have broken something else." +</p> +<p> +There was silence. Then Sir Edward asked drily,— +</p> +<p> +"And what is it now?" +</p> +<p> +"It's a—a flower-pot, that the gardener's boy left outside the +tool-house. I—I—well, I put it on Fritz's head for a hat, you know. He +did 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 the +mat. Shall I bring them in?" +</p> +<p> +A flower-pot was of such small value in Sir Edward's eyes that he almost +smiled at the child's distress. +</p> +<p> +"Well, well, you must learn not to touch the flower-pots in future. Now +run away, and do not disturb me again." +</p> +<p> +But Milly stood her ground. +</p> +<p> +"I think you have forgot, Uncle Edward. You told me that if I broke +anything again you would punish me '<i>most</i> severely.' Those were the +words you said; don't you remember?" +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward pulled the ends of his moustache and fidgeted uneasily in his +chair. He always prided himself upon being a man of his word, but much +regretted at the present moment that he had been so rash in his speech. +</p> +<p> +"Oh! ah! I remember," he said at length, meeting his little niece's +anxious gaze with some embarrassment. Then pulling himself together, he +added sternly,— +</p> +<p> +"Of course you must be punished; it was exceedingly careless and +mischievous. What does your nurse do when she punishes you?" +</p> +<p> +"She never does punish me—not now," said Milly plaintively. "When I was +a very little girl I used to stand in the corner. I don't think nurse +has punished me for years." +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward was in a dilemma; children's punishments were quite unknown +to him. Milly seemed to guess at his difficulty. +</p> +<p> +"How were you punished when you were a little boy, uncle?" +</p> +<p> +"I used to be well thrashed. Many is the whipping that I have had from +my father!" +</p> +<p> +"What is a whipping—like you gave Fritz when he went into the game +wood?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes." +</p> +<p> +There was a pause. The child clasped her little hands tighter, and set +her lips firmer, as she saw before her eyes a strong arm dealing very +heavy strokes with a riding-whip. Then she said in an awe-struck tone,— +</p> +<p> +"And do you think that is how you had better punish me?" +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward smiled grimly as he looked at the baby figure standing so +erect before him. +</p> +<p> +"No," he said; "I do not think you are a fit subject for that kind of +treatment." +</p> +<p> +Milly heaved a sigh of relief. +</p> +<p> +"And don't you know how to punish," she said after some minutes of +awkward silence. There was commiseration in her tone. The situation was +becoming ludicrous to Sir Edward, though there was a certain amount of +annoyance at feeling his inability to carry out his threat. +</p> +<p> +"Nurse told me," continued his little niece gravely, "that she knew a +little boy who was shut up in a dark cupboard for a punishment; but he +was found nearly dead, and really died the next day, from fright. There +is a dark cupboard on the kitchen stairs. I don't think I should be very +frightened, because God will be in there with me. Do you think that +would do?" +</p> +<p> +This was not acceptable. The child went on with knitted brows: +</p> +<p> +"I expect the Bible will tell you how to punish. I remember a man who +picked up sticks on Sunday—he was stoned dead; and Elisha's servant was +made a leper, and some children were killed by a bear, and a prophet by +a 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 left +out the 'most severely,' it would make it easier, I expect." +</p> +<p> +"Perhaps I might do that," said poor Sir Edward, who by this time longed +to dispense with the punishment altogether; "as it was only a +flower-pot, I will leave out the 'most severely.'" +</p> +<p> +Milly's face brightened. +</p> +<p> +"I think," she said, coming up to him and laying one hand on his +knee—"I think if I were to go to bed instead of coming down to dessert +with you this evening, that would punish me; don't you think so?" +</p> +<p> +"Very well, that will do. Now run away, and let this be your last +breakage. I cannot be worried with your punishments." +</p> +<p> +"I will try to be very good, nurse, always," said Milly while being +tucked up in bed that night, "because Uncle Edward is very puzzled when +he has to punish me. He doesn't know what to do. He looked quite unhappy +and said it worried him." +</p> +<p> +And Sir Edward as he finished his dinner in silence and solitude +muttered to himself,— +</p> +<p> +"That child is certainly a great nuisance at times, but, upon my word, I +quite miss her this evening. Children after all are original, if they +are nothing else, and she is one of the most original that I have ever +met." +</p> +<p> +It was Sunday morning, and Sir Edward was just starting for church. As +he stood over the blazing fire in the hall buttoning a glove, a little +voice came to him from the staircase: +</p> +<p> +"Uncle Edward, may I come down and speak to you?" +</p> +<p> +Permission being given, Milly danced down the stairs, and then, slipping +her little hand into her uncle's, she lifted a coaxing face to his. +</p> +<p> +"Will you take me to church with you? Nurse thinks I'm almost big enough +now, and I have been to church in the afternoon sometimes." +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward hesitated. "If you come, you will fidget, I expect. I cannot +stand that." +</p> +<p> +"I will sit as still as a mouse. I won't fidget." +</p> +<p> +"If you behave badly I shall never take you again. Yes, you may come. Be +quick and get ready." +</p> +<p> +A few moments after, Sir Edward and his little niece were walking down +the avenue, she clasping a large Bible under her arm, and trying in vain +to match her steps with his. +</p> +<p> +The squire's pew was one of the old-fashioned high ones, and Milly's +head did not reach the top of it. Very quiet and silent she was during +the service, and very particular to follow her uncle's example in every +respect, though she nearly upset his gravity at the outset by taking off +her hat in imitation of him and covering her face with it. But when the +sermon commenced her large dark eyes were riveted on the clergyman as he +gave out the text so well known to her:— +</p> +<p> +"<i>I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father, I +have sinned against Heaven, and before thee, and am no more worthy to be +called thy son</i>"; and though the sermon was half an hour in length, her +gaze never left the pulpit. +</p> +<p> +"Uncle Edward," she said, when their steps at length turned homewards, +"do you know, I heard all the sermon, and understood it pretty well +except the long words. Wasn't it nice to hear about the probable son?" +</p> +<p> +"'Prodigal,' you mean. Cannot you pronounce your words properly?" +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward's tone was irritable. He had not been feeling very +comfortable under the good vicar's words. +</p> +<p> +"I can't say that; I always forget it. Nurse says one long word is as +good as another sometimes. Uncle, what did the clergyman mean by people +running away from God? No one does, do they?" +</p> +<p> +"A great many do," was the dry response. +</p> +<p> +"But how can they? Because God is everywhere. No one can't get away +from God, and why do they want to? Because God loves them so." +</p> +<p> +"Why did the prodigal want to get away?" +</p> +<p> +Milly considered. +</p> +<p> +"I s'pose he wanted to have some a—aventures, don't you call them? I +play at that, you know. All sorts of things happen to me before I sit +down at the beech tree, but—but it's so different with God. Why, I +should 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 who +would listen to my prayers? Why, Uncle Edward, I think I should die of +fright if I got away from God. Do tell me I couldn't." +</p> +<p> +Milly had stopped short, and grasped hold of Sir Edward's coat in her +growing excitement. He glanced at her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. +</p> +<p> +"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 see +Maxwell, so we will go through the wood." +</p> +<p> +Maxwell was Sir Edward's head game-keeper, and a little later found them +at his pretty cottage at the edge of the wood. It was Milly's first +visit, and Mrs. Maxwell, a motherly-looking body, greeted her with such +a sunshiny smile that the child drew near to her instinctively. +</p> +<p> +"What a lovely room," she exclaimed, looking round the homely little +kitchen with a child's admiring eyes, "and what a beautiful cat! May I +stroke her?" +</p> +<p> +Assent being given, Milly was soon seated in a large cushioned chair, a +fat tabby cat on her lap, and while Sir Edward was occupied with his +keeper she was making fast friends with the wife. +</p> +<p> +"Uncle Edward," she said, when they had taken their leave and were +walking homewards, "Mrs. Maxwell has asked me to go to tea with her +to-morrow. May I—all by myself?" +</p> +<p> +"Ask your nurse; I have no objection." +</p> +<p> +"I should love to live in her house," continued the child eagerly; "it +is 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, do +you think the trees talk to one another? I always think they do. Look +at 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 hear +them 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 around +the 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?" +</p> +<p> +And so Milly chatted on, and Sir Edward listened, and put in a word or +two occasionally, and on the whole did not find his small niece bad +company. He told her when they entered the house that she could go to +church every Sunday morning in future with him, and that sent Milly to +the nursery with a radiant face, there to confide to nurse that she had +had a "lovely time," and was going to tea as often as she might with +"Mrs. Maxwell in the wood." +</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<a name="CH4"><!-- CH4 --></a> +<h2> + CHAPTER IV. +</h2> + +<center> +MRS. MAXWELL'S SORROW. +</center> +<p> +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 she +could talk of nothing else. +</p> +<p> +"They were so kind to me, uncle. Mrs. Maxwell made a hot currant cake on +purpose for me, and the cat had a red ribbon for company, and we sat by +the fire and talked when Maxwell was out, and she told me such lovely +stories, and I saw a beautiful picture of the probable son in the best +parlor, 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—" +</p> +<p> +She stopped short, but not for want of breath. Putting her curly head on +one side, she surveyed her uncle for a minute meditatively, then asked, +a little doubtfully: +</p> +<p> +"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 I +wouldn't—at least, not to the servants, you know." +</p> +<p> +"I think you can trust me," Sir Edward said gravely. +</p> +<p> +"This is it, then, and I think it's so wonderful. They have got a real +live probable son." +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward raised his eyebrows. His little niece continued: +</p> +<p> +"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 she +had a dear son who had run away from home, and she hadn't seen him for +nine years. Just fancy! Where was I nine years ago?" +</p> +<p> +"Not born." +</p> +<p> +"But I must have been somewhere," and Milly's active little brain now +started another train of thought, until she got fairly bewildered. +</p> +<p> +"I expect I was fast asleep in God's arms," she said at length, with +knitted brows; "only, of course, I don't remember," and having settled +that point to her satisfaction, she continued her story: +</p> +<p> +"Mrs. Maxwell's 'probable son' is called Tommy. He ran away when he was +seventeen because he didn't like the blacksmith's shop. Mrs. Maxwell and +I cried about him. He had such curly hair, and stood six feet in his +stockings, and he was a <i>beautiful</i> baby when he was little, and had +croup and—and confusions, and didn't come to for four hours; but he +would run away, though he laid the fire and put sticks on it and drew +the water for Mrs. Maxwell before he went. And Mrs. Maxwell says he may +be a soldier or a sailor now for all she knows, and he may be drownded +dead, or run over, or have both his legs shot to pieces, or he may be in +India with the blacks; but I told her he was very likely taking care of +some pigs somewhere, and she got happy a little bit then, and we dried +our tears, and she gave me some peppermint to suck. Isn't it a wonderful +story, uncle?" +</p> +<p> +"Very wonderful," was the response. +</p> +<p> +"Well, we were in the middle of talking when Maxwell came in, so we +hushed, because Mrs. Maxwell said, 'It makes my man so sad'; but, do you +know, when Maxwell was bringing me home through the wood he asked me +what we had been talking about, and he said he knew it was about the +boy because he could see it in Mrs. Maxwell's eye. And then I asked him +if he would run and kiss Tommy when he came back, and if he would make a +feast; and he said he would do anything to get him home again." +</p> +<p> +Milly paused, then said wistfully,— +</p> +<p> +"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?" +</p> +<p> +"It does not always follow that they are," Sir Edward replied. +</p> +<p> +"The probable son's father loved him, and Maxwell loves Tommy, and then +there was David, you know, who really had a wicked son, with long +hair—I forget his name—and he cried dreadful when he was dead. I +sometimes tell God about it when I'm in bed, and then He—He just seems +to put His arms round me and send me off to sleep; at least, I think He +does. Nurse says God likes me to call Him my Father, but of course that +isn't quite the same as having a father I can see. Maxwell is a very +nice father, I think. I told him I would pray for Tommy every night when +I 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 run +away from Him. I've been asking God to make them come back. I hope He +will let me know when they do. Do you know any one who has run away from +God, uncle?" +</p> +<p> +"You are chattering too much, child," said Sir Edward irritably; "sit +still and be quiet." +</p> +<p> +Milly instantly obeyed, and after some moments of silence her uncle +said,— +</p> +<p> +"I don't mind your going to Maxwell's cottage, but you must never take +Fritz with you. He is not allowed in that wood at all. Do you quite +understand?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes, but I'm very sorry, for Fritz doesn't like being left behind; the +tears were in his eyes when nurse told him he wasn't to go with me. You +see, no one talks to him like I do. He likes me to tell him stories, and +I told him when I came back about my visit, so he wants to go. But I +won't take him with me if you say no." +</p> +<p> +When she was leaving him that night for bed, she paused a moment as she +wished him good-night. +</p> +<p> +"Uncle Edward, when you say your prayers to-night, will you ask God to +make Tommy come back home? His mother does want him so badly." +</p> +<p> +"I will leave you to do that," was the curt reply. +</p> +<p> +"Well, if you don't want to pray for Tommy, pray for God's probable +sons, won't you? Do, Uncle Edward. Mrs. Maxwell said the only thing that +comforted her is asking God to bring Tommy back." +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward made no reply, only dismissed her more peremptorily than +usual, and when she had left the room he leaned his arms on the chimney +piece, and resting his head on them, gazed silently into the fire with a +knitted brow. His thoughts did not soothe him, for he presently raised +his head with a short laugh, saying to himself,— +</p> +<p> +"Where is my cigar-case? I will go and have a smoke to get rid of this +fit of the blues. I shall have to curb that child's tongue a little. She +is getting too troublesome." +</p> +<p> +And while he was pacing moodily up and down the terrace outside, a +little white-robed figure, with bent head and closed eyes, was saying +softly and reverently as she knelt at her nurse's knee— +</p> +<p> +"And, O God, bring Tommy back, and don't let him be a probable son any +more. Bring him home very soon, please, and will you bring back all your +probable sons who are running away from you, for Jesus Christ's sake. +Amen." +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward did not escape several visits from ladies in the neighborhood +offering to befriend his little niece, but all these overtures were +courteously and firmly rejected. He told them the child was happy with +her 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 her +education. So Milly was left alone, more than one mother remarking with +a shake of the head— +</p> +<p> +"It's a sad life for a child, but Sir Edward is peculiar, and when he +gets a notion into his head he keeps to it." +</p> +<p> +The child was not unhappy, and when the days grew shorter, and her +rambles out of doors were curtailed, she would lie on the tiger-skin by +the hall fire with Fritz for the hour together, pouring out to him all +her childish confidences. +</p> +<p> +Sometimes her uncle would find her perched on the broad window-seat +half-way up the staircase, with her little face pressed against the +windowpanes, and late on one very cold afternoon in November he +remonstrated with her. +</p> +<p> +"It is too cold for you here, Millicent," he said sternly; "you ought to +be in the nursery." +</p> +<p> +"I don't feel cold," she replied. "I don't like being in the nursery all +day; and when it gets dark, nurse will have the lamp lit and the +curtains drawn, and then there are only the walls and ceiling and the +pictures to look at. I'm tired of them; I see them every day." +</p> +<p> +"And what do you see here?" asked Sir Edward. +</p> +<p> +"You come and sit down, and I will tell you. There's room, uncle; make +Fritz move a little. Now, you look out with me. I can see such a lot +from this window. I like looking out right into the world; don't you?" +</p> +<p> +"Are we not in the world? I thought we were." +</p> +<p> +"I s'pose we are, but I mean God's world. The insides of houses aren't +His world, are they? Do you see my trees? I can see Goliath from this +window; he looks very fierce to-night; he has lost all his leaves, and I +can almost hear him muttering to himself. And then, uncle, do you see +those nice thin trees cuddling each other? I call those David and +Jon'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 I +sit when I'm the probable son. It's too dark for you to see all the +others. I have names for them all nearly, but I like to come and watch +them, and then I see the stars just beginning to come out. Do you know +what I think about the stars? They're angels' eyes, and they look down +and blink at me so kindly, and then I look up and blink back. We go on +blinking at each other sometimes till I get quite sleepy. I watch the +birds going to bed too. There is so much I can see from this window." +</p> +<p> +"Well, run along to the nursery now; you have been here long enough." +</p> +<p> +Milly jumped down from her seat obediently; then catching hold of her +uncle's hand as he was moving away, she said,— +</p> +<p> +"Just one thing more I want to show you, uncle. I can see the high-road +for such a long way over there, and when it is not quite so dark I sit +and watch for Tommy—that's Maxwell's probable son, you know. I should +be so glad if I were to see him coming along one day with his head +hanging down, and all ragged and torn. He is sure to come some day—God +will bring him—and if I see him coming first, I shall run off quick to +Maxwell and tell him, and then he will run out to meet him. Won't it be +lovely?" +</p> +<p> +And with shining eyes Milly shook back her brown curls and looked up +into her uncle's face for sympathy. He patted her head, the nearest +approach to a caress that he ever gave her, and left her without saying +a word. +</p> +<p> +Another day, later still, he came upon her at the staircase window. He +was dining out that night, and was just leaving the house, but stopped +as he noticed his little niece earnestly waving her handkerchief up at +the window. +</p> +<p> +"What are you doing now?" he inquired as he passed down the stairs. +Milly turned round, her little face flushed, and eyes looking very sweet +and serious. +</p> +<p> +"I was just waving to God, Uncle Edward. I thought I saw Him looking +down at me from the sky." +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward passed on, muttering inaudibly,— +</p> +<p> +"I believe that child lives in the presence of God from morning to +night". +</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<a name="CH5"><!-- CH5 --></a> +<h2> + CHAPTER V. +</h2> + +<center> +A PRODIGAL. +</center> +<p> +"Uncle Edward, nurse and I are going shopping; would you like us to buy +you anything? We are going in the dog-cart with Harris." +</p> +<p> +Milly was dancing up and down on the rug inside the front door as she +spoke. It was a bright, frosty morning, and Sir Edward was leaving the +breakfast-room with the newspaper and a large packet of letters in his +hand. He stopped and glanced at the little fur-clad figure as she stood +there, eager anticipation written on her face, and his thoughts went +back to the time when he as a boy looked upon a day's visit to the +neighboring town—nine miles away—as one of his greatest pleasures. +</p> +<p> +"Yes," he said, slowly fumbling in his waistcoat pocket; "you can get me +some pens and blotting paper at the stationer's. I will write down the +kind I want, and here is the money. Keep the change, and buy anything +you like with it." +</p> +<p> +Milly's cheeks flushed with delight as she took the money— +</p> +<p> +"What a lot it will buy!" she said. "Thank you very much indeed. I was +wanting to buy something my own self, and I've only a little cook gave +me, but now I shall be quite rich." +</p> +<p> +It was late in the afternoon when nurse and her little charge drove +back, and Sir Edward met them coming up the avenue. Milly's face was +clouded, and there were traces of tears on her cheeks, and this was such +an unusual sight that Sir Edward inquired of the nurse what was the +matter. +</p> +<p> +"She has not been good, sir, I am sorry to say. It isn't often that I +have to pull her up, but she has given me such a fright and trouble this +afternoon as I am not likely to forget in a hurry." +</p> +<p> +"What has she been doing? But never mind; I will not detain you now. I +can hear about it when we get in." +</p> +<p> +Nurse was evidently very disturbed in mind, for she poured into Sir +Edward's ear, directly they were inside the hall, a confused story:— +</p> +<p> +"I was in the grocer's, sir, and I knew I should be there some time; for +cook, she gave me so many commissions I had to write a long list of +them. I said to Miss Milly, 'You can stand outside, but don't go a step +farther.' She knows she is never allowed to speak to such people; I've +known, as I told her, children being carried bodily off and set down at +a street corner with hardly a rag on their backs; and to think of her +marching off with him, and never a thought of my anxiety—and the way I +went rushing up and down the streets—and the policemen—they are +perfectly 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 my +purse and my best umbrella; I left them both somewhere, but it was nigh +on two hours I spent, and my shopping not near done, and he the greatest +looking rascal that one might see coming out of jail. I'm sure I +shouldn't have been so angry but to see her smiling face, as if she +hadn't done any wrong at all, nor disobeyed me flatly, and most likely +put herself in the way of catching the most infectious disease from the +very 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, but +quite expected me to see the reasonableness of it all!" +</p> +<p> +Nurse stopped for breath, whilst Milly's hanging head, heaving chest, +and quick sobs showed that by this time nurse's words had quite +convinced her of her wrong-doing. +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward was surprised at the interest he felt in his little niece's +trouble. +</p> +<p> +"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." +</p> +<p> +He took her hand in his, and led her away, while nurse looked after him +in astonishment, and Ford, the old butler, standing by, said with great +solemnity,— +</p> +<p> +"You may well stare, nurse. Mark my words, that child will be able to +twist him round with her little finger one of these days. I see it +a-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're +in short frocks." +</p> +<p> +"I don't see the remarkableness in a gentleman taking notice of his own +sister's child," returned nurse testily; "the wonder is that he should +hold her at arm's length as he does, and treat her as if she were a dog +or a piece of furniture, without any feelings, and she his own flesh and +blood, too. There's no 'coming down' to have a spark of humanity in his +breast occasionally." +</p> +<p> +And nurse sailed upstairs, the loss of her purse and umbrella having +considerably ruffled her usually even temper. +</p> +<p> +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 tiny +handkerchief to her eyes, and vainly trying to restrain her sobs. +</p> +<p> +"Now suppose you stop crying, and tell me what has happened!" her uncle +said, feeling moved at seeing his usually self-contained little niece in +such grief. +</p> +<p> +Milly applied her handkerchief vigorously to her eyes, and looking up +with quivering lips, she said,— +</p> +<p> +"I didn't mean to be naughty, uncle. Nurse hasn't been angry with me +like she is now for <i>years</i>, and I'm <i>so</i> unhappy!" +</p> +<p> +The pitiful tone and look touched Sir Edward's heart, and, on the +impulse of the moment, he did what he had never as yet attempted—lifted +her 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 was +able to give him a pretty clear account of what had happened. +</p> +<p> +"I had bought your pens and blotting-paper, uncle, and was going to a +picture-shop to spend the rest of my money when nurse had finished at +the grocer's. I was standing outside, when I saw a man coming along. He +limped, and his hat was broken in, and he was so ragged that I thought +he must be a probable son, and then I thought he might be Tommy going +home, and when I thought that, I couldn't think of nothing else, and I +forgot all about nurse, and I forgot she told me to stay there, and I +ran after him as hard as I could. I caught him up, and he looked very +astonished when I asked him was his name Tommy. He said, 'No,' and he +laughed at me, and then I asked him was he a probable son, because he +looked 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 home +to run away from, so that wouldn't do; but he really looked just like +the man I've seen in Mr. Maxwell's picture, and I told him so, and then +I found out what he was, and I was so sorry, and yet I was so glad." +</p> +<p> +Milly paused, and her large, expressive eyes shone as she turned them up +to her uncle's face, and her voice dropped almost to a whisper as she +said,— +</p> +<p> +"I found out he was one of God's probable sons. When I asked him if he +had run away from God, he said yes, he supposed he had done that, so of +course he was ragged and unhappy." +</p> +<p> +"That is not always the case," put in Sir Edward, half touched, half +amused. "Sometimes it is very rich people who run away from God, and +they get richer when they are away from Him." +</p> +<p> +Milly looked puzzled. +</p> +<p> +"But they can't be happy, uncle. Oh, they never can be!" +</p> +<p> +"Perhaps not." +</p> +<p> +"Well, I talked to this poor man till we had walked quite away from the +shops, and then he turned down a lane, and I went with him; and we were +both rather tired, so we sat down together on some doorsteps inside an +archway, and he told me all about himself. His name is Jack, and his +father and mother are dead, like mine; and he got drunk one night, and +fell down and broke his arm, and then he went to a hospital; and when he +got 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. I +asked him were there no pigs to keep, but he said there weren't any in +London, 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 he +said something about going to the bad, which I couldn't quite +understand. Then I asked him why he didn't go back to God, and he said +he had been a good boy once, when he went to Sunday-school, and he had a +very good uncle who kept a baker's shop in London, and who wanted him to +go 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't +tramp back again to London, it was too far, and he had no money. So +then I opened my purse, and we counted over my money together, and he +said 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 told +him." +</p> +<p> +"The scoundrel!" muttered Sir Edward. +</p> +<p> +Milly paused. "Why are you looking so angry, uncle? I was so glad to +give him the money; and then we talked a good deal, and I begged him not +to be one of God's probable sons any more. Fancy! He wouldn't believe +God loved him, and he wouldn't believe that God wanted him back! I told +him I should be quite frightened to get away from God, and he—well, he +almost 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 me +much except nurse, but God did. I feel He loves me, and I know He loves +Jack just the same; doesn't He, uncle?" +</p> +<p> +"And when did nurse find you?" inquired Sir Edward, evading this +question. +</p> +<p> +Milly's little face, which had been gradually brightening with the +interest of her story, now clouded over again, and she hung her head. +</p> +<p> +"She was fearful angry with me. She was quite hot and red, and she +snatched me away, and said that Jack was a thief and—and a vagbag, or +something like that. She scolded me all the way home, and I don't think +she 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 wished +him good-bye. I don't think nurse would run and meet a probable son if +she had one; she thinks all ragged people are wicked. But I'm—I'm +dreadful sorry I was disobedient. Do you think I have been very naughty, +Uncle Edward?" +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward twisted the ends of his moustache slowly. "I think you were +naughty to run after a strange man like that, and I quite understand +nurse's displeasure. You made her exceedingly anxious." +</p> +<p> +"And is God very angry with me?" +</p> +<p> +"God is not pleased with disobedient children." +</p> +<p> +"May I kneel down and ask him to forgive me now?" +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward hesitated. "I think you had better go to the nursery and do +it there." +</p> +<p> +"I don't want to see nurse till I have done it. May I? Will you ask God +to forgive me too?" +</p> +<p> +"Your prayer will be quite sufficient." +</p> +<p> +Milly slipped off his knee, and then, kneeling down with folded hands +and closed eyes, she said softly,— +</p> +<p> +"Please God, will you forgive me! I'm so sorry I disobeyed nurse and ran +away. And please take care of Jack, and bring him back to you, for Jesus +Christ's sake. Amen." +</p> +<p> +"Now run along to nurse, and don't cry any more," said Sir Edward, as he +rose from his seat. +</p> +<p> +Milly looked back wistfully as she reached the door. +</p> +<p> +"Do you think nurse is still angry?" +</p> +<p> +"Tell nurse from me that she is not to scold you any more. The loss of +your money ought to be a lesson to you." +</p> +<p> +"But I didn't lose it, uncle. I lent it to Jack. He wouldn't let me give +it to him; he said he would send it back to me in a letter." +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward laughed unbelievingly, and Milly trotted upstairs to be +received with open arms by nurse at the nursery door. +</p> +<p> +"There! never mind, my dear. I have been very angry with you, but +you'll never do such a thing again. Come and have your tea. I've had a +cup already, and feel wonderful better. Now, don't cry any more; bless +your little heart, I can't bear to see you in tears." +</p> +<p> +With that nurse took her up in her arms; and poor tired little Milly +whispered, as she clung to her,— +</p> +<p> +"I was afraid you would never love me again. I've told God I'm sorry; do +you quite forgive me?" +</p> +<p> +"Quite, my lamb," was the reply; "and as to loving you, I shouldn't give +over doing that if you were twice as troublesome." +</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<a name="CH6"><!-- CH6 --></a> +<h2> + CHAPTER VI. +</h2> + +<center> +A PROMISE KEPT. +</center> +<p> +About a fortnight later Sir Edward, who always opened the post-bag +himself, found there a letter addressed to his little niece, and sent a +message to the nursery to tell her to come down to him. She arrived very +surprised at the summons, as Sir Edward always wished to be left +undisturbed at his breakfast, but when she saw the letters on the table +she cried out joyously,— +</p> +<p> +"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." +</p> +<p> +"I think there may be, judging from the writing on the envelope. Come +here and open it." +</p> +<p> +Milly took the letter, and her little fingers fairly trembled with +excitement as she opened it, saying softly to herself as she did so,— +</p> +<p> +"I knew he would keep his promise. I knew he wasn't a thief." +</p> +<p> +A money order dropped out. +</p> +<p> +"Well," said Sir Edward, "you were right, little woman, and we were +wrong. Would you like me to read it for you?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes, please, uncle." +</p> +<p> +The letter read as follows:— +</p> +<pre> + "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." +</pre> +<p> +Sir Edward laid the letter down in silence when he had finished reading +it. Milly's face was radiant. +</p> +<p> +"I've never had a letter in my life before, uncle, but I don't quite +understand all of it. Will you explain it to me?" +</p> +<p> +And this her uncle did, sending her upstairs at length to show it to +nurse, but sitting wrapped in thought himself and leaving both his +letters and breakfast untouched for some considerable time. +</p> +<p> +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 instantly +took fright and bolted. +</p> +<p> +For some time Sir Edward kept steadily to his seat, and though powerless +to check the animal's course was able to guide it; but in spite of all +his efforts the trap was at last upset, and he was thrown violently to +the ground. He had no groom with him, and the accident took place on a +lonely road, so that it was not till an hour later that help came, in +the shape of a farmer returning from market in his cart. He found Sir +Edward unconscious, and the horse still feebly struggling to extricate +himself from under the trap, which was badly broken. +</p> +<p> +It was about seven o'clock in the evening when Sir Edward was brought +home, and he had three ribs broken, besides some very severe injuries to +his head. The doctor wished to telegraph for a nurse from London, but +Sir Edward had a horror of them, and having recovered consciousness +shook his head vehemently when it was suggested; and so it ended in +Milly's nurse volunteering to assist his valet in nursing him. Poor +little Milly wandered about the house with Fritz at her heels in a very +woe-begone fashion. What with the anxiety in her heart lest her uncle +should die, and the absence of her nurse—who could spare little time +now to look after her—she felt most forlorn, and her greatest comfort +was to go down to the keeper's cottage and talk to Mrs. Maxwell. +</p> +<p> +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 in +and see him, but this was not allowed. At last permission was given by +the 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, the +contents of which were unknown to all except herself. +</p> +<p> +Softly she crept up to the bed and looked at her uncle's bandaged head +and worn face with the greatest awe. +</p> +<p> +He put out his hand, which she took in hers, and then she said, her +brown eyes fixed wistfully on his face,— +</p> +<p> +"I've wanted to see you, Uncle Edward, for so long. I wish you would let +me come in and help to nurse you." +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward smiled, then shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"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 live +again; now isn't He? I wasn't quite sure whether you mightn't like to +die 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 for +me with the money Jack sent back to me. May I open it for you?" +</p> +<p> +Reading assent in his eyes, Milly eagerly removed her brown paper, and +then lifted on to the bed with difficulty a picture of the Prodigal Son, +in a plain oak frame. +</p> +<p> +"Isn't it a lovely one, Uncle Edward? There's the prodigal son—I've +learned to say it properly now—all in rags hurrying along the road, and +there's his old father in the distance coming to meet him; and can you +see the words underneath?—<i>'I will arise and go to my father, and will +say unto him, Father, I have sinned against Heaven, and before thee</i>.' I +thought you would like it to look at while you are in bed. May I rest it +against the rail at the bottom of your bed?—then you can see it +beautifully." +</p> +<p> +Nurse came forward and helped the child to put the picture in the place +she wished; and Sir Edward tried to look pleased, and said in a low +tone,— +</p> +<p> +"Thank you, little one, I can see it well from there"; but under his +breath he muttered, "Has she a purpose in bringing that everlasting +subject before me? I'm sick to death of it. I shall get rid of that +picture when she is gone." +</p> +<p> +But he did not. His eyes grew somewhat wistful as he gazed upon it, and +later in the day, when nurse asked him if he would like to have it +removed, he shook his head in the negative. +</p> +<p> +No one could know his thoughts during those long days and nights of +weariness and pain. The restlessness of body did not equal the +restlessness of soul, and the past came back with a startling vividness. +The wasted years, the misused talents, and above all, the fast-closed +heart against its rightful Owner, now seemed to stand up in judgment +against him. Often in his wretchedness would he groan aloud, and wish +for unconsciousness to come to his aid and consign to oblivion his +accusing memory. +</p> +<p> +It was a cold, gray afternoon. Mrs. Maxwell's little kitchen was in +perfect order. The fire shed flickering lights on the bright dish-covers +on the wall, and the blue and white china on the old-fashioned dresser +was touched with a ruddy glow. Mrs. Maxwell herself, seated in a wooden +rocking-chair, in spotless white apron, was knitting busily as she +talked; and Milly on a low stool, the tabby in her arms, with her +golden-brown curls in pretty disorder, and her large dark eyes gazing +earnestly into the fire, completed the picture. +</p> +<p> +"Do you like winter, Mrs. Maxwell?" she was asking. +</p> +<p> +"Well, my dear, I can't say as I don't prefer the summer; but +there!—the Almighty sends it, and it must be right, and I don't think +folks 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 they +say they must have sunshine. I allays thinks they've no sunshine in +their hearts, or they wouldn't be so up and down with the weather." +</p> +<p> +"I think winter is a very lonely time, Mrs. Maxwell, and I'm so sorry +for the trees. I was out this morning with Fritz, and I talked to them +and 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 they +sighed and shook their heads; it's such a long time to wait, and they +have nothing to do—they can only stand still. I was very sad this +morning. After I had talked to them, I went down to the plantation at +the bottom of the lawn, and on the way I came to a poor dead frog. Fritz +sniffed at him, but he didn't seem to be sorry. I don't know how he +died. I thought perhaps he had stayed out in the cold and got frozen, he +felt so very cold. I took him up and buried him, and I wondered if his +mother would miss him; and then I went on a little farther, and there +were some little bird's feathers all in a heap on the ground. I felt +sure a cruel cat had been eating it up, and I couldn't help crying, for +everything seemed to be dying. And when I got to the plantation I was a +little comforted, for the fir-trees looked so comfortable and warm—they +hadn't lost their leaves like the other trees—but do you know, in the +middle of them all was a tall, thin, bare tree—he looked so lonely and +unhappy, and he was the only one without any leaves." +</p> +<p> +"One of those birches, I expect. My man, he said the other day that the +fir plantation yonder wanted weeding out." +</p> +<p> +"Well, I couldn't bear to see him so sad, so I crept right in amongst +the firs until I got to him, and then I put my arms right round him and +cuddled him tight. I told him God would take care of him, and give him a +beautiful 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 the +firs are very stiff and proud. I—I kissed him before I came away. It +was a sad morning." +</p> +<p> +Milly's tone was truly pathetic, and Mrs. Maxwell, who loved to hear her +childish fancies and never laughed at them, now looked up from her +knitting sympathetically— +</p> +<p> +"You're sad yourself, dear. Is your uncle pretty well to-day?" +</p> +<p> +"I think he is getting better, but he mustn't talk, and nurse won't let +me see him. I think it's winter makes me sad, Mrs. Maxwell." +</p> +<p> +There was silence for a few moments. Milly stroked her cat thoughtfully, +then she said,— +</p> +<p> +"If Uncle Edward had died, what would have happened to me? Should I have +had to go to the workhouse?" +</p> +<p> +"Bless your little heart, no! Why, my man and I was saying the other day +that it's most sure as you'll be mistress of the property one day. Sir +Edward he have no other kith or kin, as far as we know. Workhouse, +indeed! A place where they takes in tramps and vagabonds." +</p> +<p> +"I heard some of the maids talking about it," pursued Milly; "they said +they wondered what would happen to me. I think he is my only uncle, so I +couldn't go anywhere else. I wish I had a father, Mrs. Maxwell, I'm +always wishing for one. I never remember my father. My mother I do, but +she was always ill, and she didn't like me to bother her. Do you know, I +thought 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 him +either. I should like him to take me up in his arms and kiss me. Do you +think he ever will? I feel as if no one cares for me sometimes." +</p> +<p> +"I think a certain little apple dumpling as I put in the oven for some +one is smelling as if it wants to come out," was Mrs. Maxwell's brisk +response as she bustled out of her chair, her old eyes moist with +feeling. +</p> +<p> +In an instant Milly's pensiveness had disappeared. A baked apple +dumpling had great charms for her, and no one would have believed that +the light-hearted child with the merry laugh, now dancing around the +room, and climbing up to the dresser for a plate, was the same as the +one who had so sadly discoursed a few moments before on the mournfulness +of winter and of her orphaned state. +</p> +<p> +"Did you make such nice apple dumplings for Tommy?" she asked presently, +busy with her fork and spoon, and looking supremely content with +herself and surroundings. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! Didn't I? I mind when he used to come in on Saturdays from the +forge, I always had a hot pudding for him. He used to say there was no +one as cooked as well as mother." +</p> +<p> +"He's a long time coming home, isn't he, Mrs. Maxwell? I get so tired of +waiting. I wish he would come for Christmas." +</p> +<p> +"I'm not tired of waiting," Mrs. Maxwell said softly, "and I've waited +these nine years, but it sometimes seems as if it is only yesterday as +he went off. I feel at times like fretting sadly over him, and wish I +knew if he was alive or dead, but then the Lord do comfort one, and I +know He sees just where he is, and He'll let me know when the right time +comes." +</p> +<p> +"I'm expecting him every day," said Milly with a cheerful little nod. "I +was telling God about him last night at my window on the stairs—and it +seemed as if God said to me that he was coming very soon now. I +shouldn't wonder if he came next week!" +</p> +<p> +The keeper entered the cottage at this moment, and Milly jumped off her +seat at once. +</p> +<p> +"I'm afraid it's time for me to be going back. Nurse said I was to be in +at four. Are you going to take me, Maxwell?" +</p> +<p> +"Don't I always see you safe and sound up at the house?" Maxwell said +good-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 saying +is, you don't know how time passes. We shall have to run for it." +</p> +<p> +Milly was being rapidly covered up in a thick plaid by Mrs. Maxwell. +</p> +<p> +"There now, my dearie, good-bye till next I see you, and don't be +doleful in that big house by yourself. Your uncle will soon be well, and +nurse will be better able to see after you. I don't know what all those +servants are after that they can't amuse you a bit." +</p> +<p> +"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 she +runs away downstairs pretty often. Good-bye, Mrs. Maxwell." +</p> +<p> +It was getting dark. Maxwell soon had the child in his strong arms, and +was striding along at a great pace, when passing a rather dark corner, a +man suddenly sprang out of the bushes and took to his heels. +</p> +<p> +Maxwell shouted out wrathfully: "Let me see you in here again, and it +will be the worse for you, you scoundrel!" +</p> +<p> +"Oh, Maxwell," cried Milly, "who is it?" +</p> +<p> +"One of them skulking poachers—they're always in here after the +rabbits. If I hadn't a-had you to look after and had my thick stick I +would a-been after him." +</p> +<p> +"But you wouldn't have hurt him?" +</p> +<p> +"I should have taught him a lesson, that I should!" +</p> +<p> +"But, Maxwell, you mustn't, really! Only think, he might be—Tommy +coming home! You couldn't see who it was, could you? It would be +dreadful if you chased away Tommy." +</p> +<p> +"No fear o' that," Maxwell said in a quieter tone. "My own son wouldn't +skulk along like that. He was a ragged vagabond, that's what he was." +</p> +<p> +"Prodigal sons are nearly always ragged. He might have been some one's +prodigal son, Maxwell." +</p> +<p> +"He was just a poacher, my dear, and I think I know the chap. He's +staying at the Blue Dragon, and has been a-watching this place for some +time." +</p> +<p> +"Perhaps he is one of God's prodigal sons," said Milly softly, "like +Jack was." +</p> +<p> +To this Maxwell made no reply, but when he set her down in the +brightly-lighted hall a little later, he said,— +</p> +<p> +"Don't you fret about our Tommy. I should know him fast enough. He +wouldn't run from his own father." +</p> +<p> +And Milly went in, and that night added another petition to her +prayers:— +</p> +<p> +"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." +</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<a name="CH7"><!-- CH7 --></a> +<h2> + CHAPTER VII. +</h2> + +<center> +CROSS-EXAMINATION. +</center> +<p> +"Nurse, where is Miss Millicent? I haven't seen her for days. Fetch her +in here this afternoon, and you go and get a little fresh air; I am well +enough to be left alone now." +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward's tone was impatient. He was getting to the convalescent +stage, and nurse found him a most trying patient. Nothing would please +him, and he wearied both himself and her with his perpetual complaints. +</p> +<p> +"I thought she would only worry you, sir. She has been asking me every +day to come in and see you. I will fetch her at once." +</p> +<p> +Milly shortly appeared in a clean pinafore, her little face radiant with +smiles. As she climbed up into the chair by the bedside and gently +stroked the hand that was given her, she said with sparkling eyes,— +</p> +<p> +"Nurse says I may stay here all alone with you, uncle; won't that be +lovely? May I give you your medicines, and be your nurse?" +</p> +<p> +"I can't promise that, but you may sit there and talk to me." +</p> +<p> +"What shall I talk about?" +</p> +<p> +"Anything you like. You never seem to be at a loss for conversation." +</p> +<p> +Milly considered for a moment. +</p> +<p> +"I've had so few people to talk to lately, you see; I generally talk +most to Fritz. He understands, I'm sure, but he doesn't talk back. When +will you be quite well again, uncle?" +</p> +<p> +"Not this side of Christmas, I'm afraid." +</p> +<p> +"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 fir +plantation with Fritz, and we came upon a dear little rabbit caught in a +steel trap. Maxwell said a poacher had put it there, and he was very +angry. The rabbit was quite dead, and his two hind legs were broken. +Wasn't it dreadful? What is a poacher, uncle?" +</p> +<p> +"A thief—a man that steals game that isn't his." +</p> +<p> +"Maxwell says there are lots of poachers about. I'm so afraid he will +think 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 if +he hurt his own prodigal son! And I expect Tommy will look very like a +poacher. He is sure to have ragged, dirty clothes. If I was——" Here +Milly paused, and gazed dreamily in front of her for some minutes in +silence. +</p> +<p> +"Well?" inquired Sir Edward, looking at his little niece with interest +as she sat in her big chair, her elbows supported by her knees, and her +chin resting in her hands, "are you going into a brown study?" +</p> +<p> +"I was just thinking if I was a prodigal son—I mean a real one, not +just playing at it, as I do—I would rather be one of God's prodigal +sons, than belonging to any one else." +</p> +<p> +"Why?" +</p> +<p> +"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 door +in his face, and wouldn't let him in. And then there's Tommy, I can't +help s'posing that his father mightn't know him. But God can't make +mistakes. It must be lovely just to run right into God's arms, and hear +Him saying, <i>'Bring forth the best robe, and put it on him.'</i> I should +love to have Him say that to me." +</p> +<p> +Milly's little face glowed with pleasure at the thought, and she turned +her expressive eyes toward her uncle, who lay with knitted brows +listening to her. +</p> +<p> +"And supposing if God would not receive you; supposing you had stayed +away so long, and had refused to listen to His voice when He called, and +then when you did want to come back, you felt it would be too late, what +would you do then?" +</p> +<p> +Milly smiled. +</p> +<p> +"Why, uncle, it would be never too late for God, would it? Maxwell said +he would be glad to see Tommy if he came back in the middle of the +night, and God would never turn one of his prodigal sons away. He loves +them so that he sent Jesus to die for them. He would never say He +couldn't have them back again." +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward said no more, and after another pause the child went on. +</p> +<p> +"I was asking Mrs. Maxwell the other day if she had some best clothes +for Tommy when he came home, and she took me upstairs into his little +room, and opened a long drawer, and told me to look inside. And there +were his best Sunday coat and waistcoat and trousers, and a silk +handkerchief with lavender in it, and a necktie with yellow and red +stripes, and she told me they had been there for nine years, and she +shakes them out and brushes them every Saturday. He didn't run away in +his best clothes, you know; he left them behind. So they're quite ready +for him. The only thing Mrs. Maxwell hasn't got is the ring." +</p> +<p> +"The what?" inquired Sir Edward, amused. +</p> +<p> +"The ring," Milly repeated earnestly. "Maxwell will have to say, '<i>Put a +ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet</i>.' Mrs. Maxwell has got a pair +of carpet slippers. I couldn't bear her not having any shoes ready for +him, so we looked about and found a pair that are just too small for +Maxwell, and I put them in the drawer my own self. Mrs. Maxwell says he +won't want a ring, and that she thinks the Bible people dressed +differently, and she said Tommy was a poor man's son: it wasn't as if he +was rich. But I don't know; I don't like to think we have no ring for +him. I suppose you haven't one, uncle, that you would like to give him?" +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward put his head back on his cushions and laughed aloud. Then, +noting Milly's troubled face, he said: +</p> +<p> +"Wait till Tommy comes back, little woman, and then it will be time +enough to see about his ring, though I quite agree with his mother that +it would be most unfitting." +</p> +<p> +"You have had the picture I gave you taken away, uncle," said Milly +presently, her quick eyes roving round the room. "Ah! you've had it hung +up on the wall. That's nice there. You can see it from your bed. Don't +you like looking at it? Doesn't it make you feel happy?" +</p> +<p> +"I can't say it does," replied Sir Edward, glancing at the picture in +question. "Why ought it to make me feel happy?" +</p> +<p> +"Oh, it's so nice to think he is just getting home after being away so +long. I wonder if he was a great time walking back. How long do you +think it takes one of God's prodigal sons to get back to Him, uncle?" +</p> +<p> +"I should say a very long time, indeed," said Sir Edward, slowly. +</p> +<p> +"But how long? Two days, or six hours, or a week?" +</p> +<p> +"It would depend perhaps on how long they had been away from Him." +</p> +<p> +"It's rather hard to understand," said Milly, wrinkling her little brow +perplexedly, "because God is everywhere, isn't He? and I should have +thought He would have been close by them all the time. I was asking +nurse about it, and she said that God was near them, only they wouldn't +have anything to say to Him, and did bad things and shut the Lord Jesus +out of their heart, and let Satan in, and then God had to leave them +till they said they said they were sorry. I suppose directly they say: +'<i>Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in Thy sight, and am no more +worthy to be called Thy son,</i>' then God just folds them in His arms and +forgives them and takes them back again; isn't that it?" +</p> +<p> +"Look here, I think we have had enough of this subject. Talk about +something else." +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward's tone was irritable. Milly's ready tongue obeyed. +</p> +<p> +"Nurse says it's so cold to-day that she thinks it will snow. Do you +think it will? It is quite smoky by the river; nurse says it is a fog. I +wondered where it all came from. Do you think it might be God's breath, +uncle?" +</p> +<p> +As she was chatting on, suddenly there came a sharp knock at the door, +and a visitor appeared. +</p> +<p> +"Thought I'd look you up, for I heard you were on the sick list. Good +gracious! you have been pretty bad, haven't you? Will you put me up for +a night or two? I expect you want a little cheerful company." +</p> +<p> +Talking volubly, Major Lovell—for it was he—came forward and looked +with real concern on Sir Edward's altered face. +</p> +<p> +"I'm very glad to see you," said the latter, heartily, holding out his +hand. "Come and stay for as long as you like. I'm sick to death of my +own society." +</p> +<p> +"And is this the small party that arrived so unexpectedly when I was +here before?" inquired Major Lovell, looking down at Milly, who still +sat in the big chair, regarding the new-comer with her large brown eyes. +</p> +<p> +"Yes," said Sir Edward, a faint smile hovering about his lips as he +remembered his horror of her advent; "she is taking charge of me this +afternoon." +</p> +<p> +Milly held out her little hand with all the grace of a duchess. +</p> +<p> +"I remember you," she said; "you were one of the gentlemen that laughed +at me." +</p> +<p> +"I don't think I could have been guilty of such rudeness, surely." +</p> +<p> +"Now, I think you may run away," Sir Edward said, "and tell nurse I will +ring when I want her." +</p> +<p> +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 like +Uncle Edward so much better when he is in bed. He looks so sad, and +speaks so softly. I wish I could sit with him every day." +</p> +<p> +Major Lovell was a distant cousin of Sir Edward, and there existed a +warm friendship between them. The very brightness of his tone seemed to +do the invalid good, and Milly was quite delighted to find that her +uncle's visitor not only listened with interest to the account of her +favorite games and pastimes, but insisted upon joining her in them, and +the walls of the quiet old house rang again with merry mirth and +laughter such as they had not known for years. +</p> +<p> +Upstairs in the sick room Major Lovell proved a wonderfully patient and +skillful nurse; but there were times when all his bright cheeriness +could not smooth the furrows in the invalid's brow, or take away the +fretfulness of tone. +</p> +<p> +One morning Major Lovell came down from an interview with him with a +puzzled expression of face. Catching sight of Milly in the hall, +equipped in hat and jacket, he asked,— +</p> +<p> +"Are you going out with nurse?" +</p> +<p> +"No, nurse is busy—just by my own self, in the avenue with Fritz. Do +come with me." +</p> +<p> +The major consented, but with a graver face than usual, and then +suddenly, very full of his own thoughts, said to the child,— +</p> +<p> +"I believe your uncle has something on his mind. It strikes me from +different things he has let drop that he is turning pious." +</p> +<p> +"What is pious?" inquired Milly, instantly. +</p> +<p> +"What is it? A pious person thinks every one wicked but themselves, and +condemns everybody and everything all round them. They are most +objectionable people, little woman, so mind you never take up that line, +and the worst of it is that they're so satisfied with their own +goodness, that you can't crush them, try as much as you may." +</p> +<p> +"And is Uncle Edward going to be like them?" asked the child, with a +perplexed face. +</p> +<p> +"I devoutly hope not. I shall do all in my power to prevent it." +</p> +<p> +"What do pious people do?" questioned Milly. +</p> +<p> +"Do! They give tracts away and sing hymns, and pull long faces over very +well-bound Bibles." +</p> +<p> +"I like singing hymns," asserted Milly, very emphatically; "everybody +sings hymns to God, don't they? I listen to the birds, sometimes, and +wish 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've +nearly all dropped asleep now till next year. What hymns do you sing, +Major Lovell?" +</p> +<p> +"Bless the child! what do you take me for?" and the major laughed +heartily as he spoke; then, with a twinkle in his eye, he went on +gravely,— +</p> +<p> +"I shall begin to think that you are pious if you don't take care. What +else do you do besides sing hymns?" +</p> +<p> +"I have a Bible," said Milly, solemnly, "and I just love it." +</p> +<p> +"And what makes you love such a dry book as the Bible? You can't +understand a word of it." +</p> +<p> +"Oh, I can, Major Lovell, it's beautiful. I love nurse to read and read +it to me. It tells about Jesus, you know, and I love Jesus, and He loves +me. And it has such nice stories in it." +</p> +<p> +Major Lovell gave a long, low whistle. +</p> +<p> +"Ah!" he said, shaking his head comically at the little figure walking +by 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 been +wasting his life and not fulfilling the end for which he was created, in +fact, that he is a wicked sinner? For that has been the substance of +his talk with me this morning!" +</p> +<p> +"Uncle Edward is a very good man," Milly replied, warmly. "I don't know +what you mean, Major Lovell; don't you read the Bible?" +</p> +<p> +"What will you think of me if I tell you I don't?" +</p> +<p> +"Perhaps you know it all by heart? I expect that is why." +</p> +<p> +"I rather think I don't. You must not begin to catechise me too +severely. Who has brought you up in this pious fashion?" +</p> +<p> +"I'm not pious. You said they were horrid people. But I thought all the +grown-up people read the Bible, except people like Jack." +</p> +<p> +"Who is Jack?" +</p> +<p> +"He was a prodigal son, one of God's prodigal sons." +</p> +<p> +"And what are they, may I ask?" +</p> +<p> +Milly did not answer for a minute, then she stopped short, and said very +solemnly, raising her large dark eyes to the major's face,— +</p> +<p> +"I wonder if you're a prodigal son. Uncle Edward said there were some +rich ones. Have you run away from God, Major Lovell?" +</p> +<p> +"Oh, come now," said the major, pinching her cheek good-naturedly; "I +didn't bargain for this when I came out with you. You must keep your +sermons for some one else. Come along to the stables with me, and I will +give you a ride." +</p> +<p> +In an instant Milly's gravity disappeared, and a little time afterwards +she was laughing gleefully as she was being trotted round the +stable-yard on a large bay mare; but she said to her nurse when she came +in,— +</p> +<p> +"Major Lovell is very nice, but very funny, and I can't always +understand his talk, he says such difficult things." +</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<a name="CH8"><!-- CH8 --></a> +<h2> + CHAPTER VIII. +</h2> + +<center> +"HE AROSE AND CAME TO HIS FATHER." +</center> +<p> +Major Lovell stayed a week, and Sir Edward seemed the better for his +company, as far as his bodily health was concerned. But at heart he was +very wretched, and his cousin's influence was not the sort to help him. +</p> +<p> +"Now, old chap, make haste and get well, and don't moon over yourself +and 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." +</p> +<p> +These were Major Lovell's parting words, and Sir Edward responded,— +</p> +<p> +"No, thanks; I prefer being at home this Christmas. Why, I doubt if I +shall leave my room by that time; I am as weak as a baby." +</p> +<p> +The week before Christmas Sir Edward was in an easy chair in the +library, and, though still an invalid, was now making rapid progress +towards 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 came +to his face as he turned to see who the intruder was, but disappeared at +the sight of his little niece, rosy and breathless, in out-door +garments, and hugging a large piece of holly in her arms. +</p> +<p> +"Uncle Edward, he has come!" +</p> +<p> +"Who has come?" +</p> +<p> +"Tommy—he really and truly has. Ford told me just as I came in with +nurse. He heard it from Harris, and Harris heard it from Maxwell +himself. He said, 'My lad has come, tell little missy,' and Ford says +Harris said, 'He looked as if he could dance a jig for joy!' Oh, Uncle +Edward, may I go to them? Nurse says it's too late, but I do want to be +there. There's such a lot to be done now he has really come; and, Uncle +Edward, may they kill one of the cows in the farm that are being fatted +up? There's no calf, I'm afraid. May they? And may I go and tell them +so? You will let me go, won't you?" +</p> + +<!-- NOTE: Remove center tags and put align="left" or align="right" for text wrapped alignments --> + +<a name="image-2"><!-- Image 2 --></a> +<center> +<img src="./images/image01.png" width="450" height="725" +alt="Hugging a Large Piece of Holly in Her Arms."> +</center> + +<p> +"Most certainly not; it is much too late in the afternoon for you to +be going down there. It is getting quite dark, and as to one of my +cattle being disposed of in that way, I should not dream of allowing it +for one moment." +</p> +<p> +Milly's eyes filled with tears, which she vainly tried to restrain. When +her uncle spoke to her in that tone she knew it was useless to +remonstrate. +</p> +<p> +"They'll be having the feast without me," she said, with a little sob in +her voice. "Mrs. Maxwell promised me I should be there when they had it, +and I'm longing to see Tommy." +</p> +<p> +"Then if Mrs. Maxwell promised you that, she will put off her feast till +to-morrow," said Sir Edward in a softer tone. "And now be a sensible +little woman, and wait patiently till the time comes. You may be sure +his parents will like to have him to themselves the first night. Run +away now; I don't want to be disturbed." +</p> +<p> +Poor little Milly crept out of the room feeling very crestfallen, and a +short 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, and +comforting herself by conjecturing how and where the meeting had taken +place. Her little mind was so full of the subject that it was long +before nurse could get her to sleep that night. Her last words before +she dropped off were,— +</p> +<p> +"I wonder who will do the music and dancing!" +</p> +<p> +The next morning, the instant her breakfast was over, Milly obtained +nurse's permission to go down to the keeper's cottage under charge of +Sarah, the nursery maid. She was away the whole morning, and about one +o'clock a message came from Mrs. Maxwell to ask if she might stay to +dinner with them. So that it was not till nearly four in the afternoon +that she was brought up to the house, and then, flushed and excited, she +poured into her nurse's ear a long account of all that she had been +hearing and doing. +</p> +<p> +"Now, come, my dear, you mustn't talk forever," was nurse's remonstrance +at last; "Sir Edward told me I could send you to him for a little when +you came in, and I must make you tidy first." +</p> +<p> +It was quite dusk when Milly entered the library, but the bright +firelight showed her the figure of her uncle leaning back in his easy +chair, and indulging in a reverie. +</p> +<p> +"Well," he said, looking round, "where have you been all day? Down at +Maxwell's, I suppose?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes," said Milly, sedately; "and I'll tell you all about it, if you +like. May I make myself comfortable first?" +</p> +<p> +And after a minute's hesitation she climbed into the heavy armchair on +the opposite side of the fireplace, making a pretty picture, as she +leaned her curly head back on the cushion and gazed earnestly into her +uncle's face. +</p> +<p> +"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 about +Tommy now?" +</p> +<p> +"You may," was the amused reply. +</p> +<p> +"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 to +the door. I was rather out of breath, you see, so she just smoothed me +down a little, and we kissed each other, and she cried a tiny bit, for I +felt her tears on my face. Then she took me in to see Tommy—Maxwell was +out, and Tommy was in the kitchen in one of Maxwell's great-coats, and +he was eating some bacon at the table for his breakfast. He got up when +he saw me—he's a nice big man, uncle, but I think his hair wants +cutting. We shook hands, and I told him I'd been expecting him ever so +long. He looked rather shy, but after he had quite finished his +breakfast, we had a very nice talk, and Mrs. Maxwell went bustling about +getting dinner ready. Tommy told me all about himself from the very +beginning, but I really quite forget some of it. He never kept any pigs +at all, but he kept some sheep instead—he went out to America and did +it—and then he was a railway man, and then he had a fever, and then he +got into bad company, and at last he came to London, and he was an +omnibus 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 he +wouldn't write home, and then he smashed his cab against the lamp-post, +and then he drank too much again." +</p> +<p> +"I don't think you need tell me any more of his misdoings," said Sir +Edward, drily. +</p> +<p> +"But, you see, he had to get very bad before he got good, because he was +a prodigal son. And he is sorry now. He said he never, never would have +come home until he was a good man, only one day he listened to a man +preaching a sermon in the middle of a street on a Sunday night, and he +felt uncomfortable, and then he was spoken to after by—now guess, +uncle, who do you think?" +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward could not guess, so Milly went on triumphantly: "Why, it was +my 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 that +wonderful, when it was Tommy himself he spoke to! Well, Tommy said he +hadn't the face to go home till he was better, but Jack told him not to +wait a day longer, for his father and mother were waiting for him; but +the strange thing was that even then Tommy waited a whole two weeks +before he made up his mind to come. Now don't you think he was foolish, +uncle?" +</p> +<p> +"Very foolish." +</p> +<p> +"I couldn't quite understand it, but nurse says there are lots of people +like that, waiting to make themselves better, instead of running home +just as they are. She says some of God's prodigal sons do that; do you +think many do, uncle?" +</p> +<p> +"I daresay." +</p> +<p> +"And Tommy said, though he wanted to see his home again dreadfully, he +had a great fight with himself to come at all. I didn't know prodigal +sons found it so difficult—the one in the Bible didn't, not when he +once made up his mind. Well, and so Tommy got out at the station—I'm +sorry he came by train, but Jack's uncle paid for his ticket—I would +rather he had run the whole way." +</p> +<p> +"Why would you?" asked Sir Edward, with a smile. +</p> +<p> +"I think it would have been more proper if he had," said the child +slowly, her head a little on one side, as she gazed thoughtfully into +the fire. "I always run or walk the whole way when I play the prodigal +son. I begin rather slowly, because it looks a long way off, but when I +come near I hurry. I'm wanting to be there when I see my home. The +prodigal son didn't have a train in the Bible, and I think Tommy might +have tried to do without it." +</p> +<p> +The tone of reproach at the end of her speech was too much for her +uncle's gravity, and he laughed aloud. +</p> +<p> +"I am afraid Tommy has sadly disappointed you. Did he take a cab from +the station?" +</p> +<p> +"No, he didn't do that. He got home in the afternoon, and Maxwell was +cleaning his gun on the doorstep, when he saw a shadow, and he looked up +and there he was! Oh! I should like to have been there, but I'm sorry to +say Maxwell didn't fall on his neck and kiss him. I asked Tommy very +carefully about it, and he said he took hold of both his hands and +squeezed them tight, and he gave a shout, and Mrs. Maxwell was doing her +washing in the back yard, and she heard it, and she shook all over so +that she could hardly walk. She cried so much when she saw Tommy that +Maxwell had to pat her on the back and give her a glass of water; and +Tommy he sat down on the little seat inside the porch, and he +said—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 told +me—she just took his head between her two hands, and drew it to rest on +her shoulder, and then she bent down and kissed him all over and she +said:— +</p> +<p> +"'My boy, who should you come to when you are in disgrace and trouble +but your own father and mother?' +</p> +<p> +"Tommy said, when he told me this, 'It fair broke my heart, miss,' and +then he gave a great sob, and I began to cry, and then Mrs. Maxwell came +up, 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, Tommy +turned his head away and pretended he didn't, but I saw he did." +</p> +<p> +Milly paused for breath, and her eyes looked wistfully into the glowing +coals before her. +</p> +<p> +"I didn't know prodigal sons were sad when they came back, but Tommy +seemed so sad that he made me sad too. Why do you think Tommy cried, +uncle?" +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward did not reply. He was gazing dreamily into the fire, and +something of the wistfulness in his little niece's face seemed to be +reflected in his. He gave a start after a moment's silence. +</p> +<p> +"Eh, child? What are you saying? Have you finished your story?" +</p> +<p> +"Why, no, uncle, not nearly. Are you tired? Nurse said I must not tire +you too much." +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward laughed, but it was not a happy laugh. +</p> +<p> +"Oh, finish your story by all means, little woman," he said, and Milly +continued:— +</p> +<p> +"We all cheered up when Mrs. Maxwell asked me if I'd like to stay to +dinner. 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 apple +sauce, and, uncle, it was lovely! Maxwell came in just in time, and he +looked so happy, and then we all sat down to dinner, but I asked Maxwell +to say first before we began: '<i>Let us eat, and be merry, for this my +son was dead, and is alive again, he was lost, and is found</i>.' He folded +his hands and said it like grace, and Mrs. Maxwell said 'Amen' when he +had finished, and wiped her eyes with her apron. I told them we must all +be very merry, but Tommy wasn't, I'm afraid. He kept looking first at +Mrs. Maxwell and then all round the kitchen, and then at Maxwell, and +then he sighed very big sighs. He said he couldn't believe he was at +home, but he told me, when I asked him quietly afterwards, that he was +really very happy, he only sighed and looked sad because he thought how +foolish he had been to stay away so long. I was very sorry for one thing +about him, uncle. He wasn't in his best clothes. They were all too small +for him, and the slippers wouldn't fit him, but Maxwell says he will buy +him some new ones to-morrow. And Tommy told me he wouldn't wear a ring +if he had one. He asked me why he should, so I told him about the +prodigal son in the Bible—he seemed to like hearing about it, and he +said he thought he was very like him. And then I asked about the music +and 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? I +didn't hear any in mine, for I kept silent and listened for it." +</p> +<p> +"I expect she meant you were so happy that you did not want any music to +make you happier." +</p> +<p> +"I was very happy. Oh, Uncle Edward, why won't all the prodigal sons go +home? I can't think why they like staying away. It is so lovely to think +of Tommy now! And every one would be just as happy, wouldn't they?" +</p> +<p> +"I don't think all young men have such fond parents as your friend +Tommy has," said Sir Edward gravely. +</p> +<p> +"Haven't they? Well, God's prodigal sons couldn't have a nicer father. I +lie and think of them when I'm in bed sometimes, and I talk to God about +them. I was so glad when Jack went back to Him. I think it is worst of +all to stay a long way off from God, because He does love them so. I +wonder 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 angry +with him. I should like to see a prodigal son running back into God's +arms so much! But I suppose he does it very quietly, and only the angels +look down and see it!" +</p> +<p> +"And what is this young scapegrace going to do now? Live on his father +and mother, or is he going to try and do some honest work?" +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward's tone was rather impatient. Milly looked up surprised. +</p> +<p> +"Do you mean Tommy, uncle? Are you angry with him? He told me he was +going to look for work directly, and Maxwell is coming up to speak to +you about him to-morrow." +</p> +<p> +"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. +</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<a name="CH9"><!-- CH9 --></a> +<h2> + CHAPTER IX. +</h2> + +<center> +"A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM." +</center> +<p> +When Sir Edward retired to his room that night, he paced up and down for +some time in front of his little niece's picture that she had given him. +His brow was knitted, and he was thinking deeply. +</p> +<p> +"I am longing to have peace," he muttered. "Why cannot I make up my mind +to seek it! '<i>I will arise</i>'—ay, easy to say; it's a hard and bitter +thing for a backslider to retrace his steps. How the child stabs me +sometimes, and how little she knows my past!" +</p> +<p> +He stopped and gazed at the picture. "And the Lord Himself used this as +an illustration. I could not want anything stronger." +</p> +<p> +A deep-drawn sigh followed, then a heartfelt cry rose to heaven. +</p> +<p> +"May God have mercy on me, and bring me back, for I can't bring myself!" +</p> +<p> +The next morning Sir Edward had an interview with his keeper, who +brought his son up with him, and as the tall, broad-shouldered young +fellow stood before the squire, and in earnest, humble tones asked if he +could be given a chance of redeeming his character by being employed on +the estate, Sir Edward's severity relaxed, and after a long conversation +with him he promised he would give him a trial. +</p> +<p> +He smiled grimly to himself as father and son left him with warm +expressions of gratitude. +</p> +<p> +"So that is the child's hero! One whose example I might well follow. He +has had the courage at last to take the step from which I am still +shrinking. Why should I fear that my welcome home would be less full of +love and forgiveness than his?" +</p> +<p> +It was Christmas eve, a wild and stormy day. The wind raged ceaselessly +round the old house, howling down the chimneys, and beating the branches +of the trees outside against the window panes. +</p> +<p> +Milly had been very busy for some hours helping Ford to decorate the +hall and rooms with holly and evergreen, though Ford would every now +and then pause in his work, saying: +</p> +<p> +"There, Miss Milly, I'm sure we're overdoing it. If the house was full +of company now, I would take a pride in it, but I don't believe the +master will notice whether it's done or not. It seems to me as he is +getting more and more shut up into hisself lately. Christmas is a dull +time with us." +</p> +<p> +All was finished at last, and Milly went up to the nursery and stood at +the window, her bright brown eyes eagerly scanning and taking note of +every object out of doors. +</p> +<p> +"It's a perfect hurricane," said nurse, presently, as she sat with her +work in a comfortable chair by the fire. "If we feel it inland like +this, what must it be at sea!" +</p> +<p> +"I should like to be on the sea," said Milly. "I love the wind, but I +think it is getting a little bit too rough this afternoon. I'm rather +afraid it will hurt the little trees. Ford said if I went out I should +be blown away. Do you think, nurse, if the wind was very, very strong it +would ever be able to blow me up to heaven?" +</p> +<p> +"I am afraid not," said nurse, gravely, "and I don't think we could +spare you, my dear. You would not like to leave this world yet awhile." +</p> +<p> +"Sometimes I think I should, and sometimes I think I shouldn't. I think +I should like to be blown up to spend a day there, and then come back +again. Oh, nurse, Goliath is screaming and cracking so! I wish the wind +would knock him over, he is a horrid old tree. I always think he is +making faces at me when I run past him. Wouldn't it be nice to see him +blown down?" +</p> +<p> +"You mustn't wish that," said nurse, getting up from her chair and +moving towards the door; "it's a dangerous thing for an old tree to be +blown down. Now I am going downstairs for a short time, so be a good +child and don't get into mischief while I am away." +</p> +<p> +Milly remained at the window for some minutes after nurse's departure, +then her quick eyes noticed a poor wretched little kitten mewing +pitifully as she vainly tried to shelter herself from the violent blasts +by crouching close to a tree. +</p> +<p> +In an instant, without thought of consequences, the child darted to the +nursery door and down the broad oak staircase. +</p> +<p> +"Poor pussy, I will run and fetch her in. I expect she has run away +from the kitchen." +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward was writing at his study table, when an unusually violent +gust 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, his +little niece, her golden brown curls flying as she battled with the +elements, and struggled vainly to stoop and take the kitten in her arms. +</p> +<p> +He started up from his seat, but as he did so a blast that shook the +house swept by; there was an awful cracking, then a crash, and, to his +horror, a huge limb of the old oak came with an awful thud upon the very +spot where his little niece was standing. +</p> +<p> +"My God, save her!" was his agonized cry, as he saw at the same moment +the little figure stagger and fall. Then, forgetting his weakness and +lack of physical strength, he dashed out of the house, and in another +instant was standing over her. +</p> +<p> +His first feeling was one of intense thankfulness to find that the +branch in falling could have only slightly grazed her, as she was lying +on the ground untouched by it; but as he raised the motionless figure, +and noted a red mark on her forehead which was swelling rapidly, his +heart sank within him. It did not take him long to carry her into her +house, and he was met at the door by nurse, who wisely wasted no time in +useless lamentation, but set to work at once to restore animation to her +little charge. Her efforts were successful. Milly was only slightly +stunned, but it had been a miraculous escape, and had the blow been an +inch nearer her temple it might have been fatal. As it was, the child +was more frightened than hurt, and when a little time after her uncle +took her in his arms with unwonted tenderness, she clung to him and +burst into passionate sobs. +</p> +<p> +"Take care of me, uncle! That nasty old Goliath! He tried to kill me, he +did! I saw him coming on the top of me. God only just saved me in time, +didn't He?" +</p> +<p> +When the bruise had been bathed and dressed by nurse, Sir Edward still +kept her on his knee, and after nurse had left the room, and the child +rested 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: +</p> +<p> +"You have been very near death this afternoon, little one, and I could +ill have spared you." +</p> +<p> +Milly raised her large dark eyes to his. +</p> +<p> +"If I had died I should have gone straight up to God, shouldn't I?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes, you would." +</p> +<p> +"I should have liked that. I suppose He doesn't want me yet, or He would +have sent for me." +</p> +<p> +When she came down to her uncle that evening she raised a very sad +little face to his from the opposite side of the table. +</p> +<p> +"Uncle Edward, have you heard who Goliath really did kill?" +</p> +<p> +"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. +</p> +<p> +"She was killed dead—quite dead and mangled, nurse said. It was the +poor little kitten, uncle, that I ran out to fetch." +</p> +<p> +The brown eyes were swimming with tears, and Milly could not understand +the smile that came to Sir Edward's lips. +</p> +<p> +"Only a kitten. Well, it was sad, I daresay, but there are plenty of +kittens about the place." +</p> +<p> +"But, uncle, I've been thinking so much about this one. Ford says she +had run away from the stable. I expect she was going to be a prodigal +kitten, perhaps, and now she'll never run away any more. It's so sad +about her, and I think why it is sad is because nobody cares, not even +nurse. She said she would rather it had been the kitten than me. Poor +little 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 just +looked out of my window on the stairs before I came down. The wind has +stopped now, and the trees seemed to be crying and sobbing together. I'm +sure 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 been +just in time to save the dear little kitten." +</p> +<p> +"We will not talk about her any more," said Sir Edward cheerfully. "Have +you seen Tom Maxwell lately?" +</p> +<p> +Milly's little tongue was only too ready to talk of him. +</p> +<p> +"He helped nurse and me to get some holly in the wood yesterday. I have +nice talks with him often. He says he is very happy, and this will be +the best Christmas he has spent in his life. Uncle, I want to ask you +something. I've been thinking of it a great deal to-day, only since I +was knocked down this afternoon I've had such a pain in my head I left +off thinking. But I've just remembered it now. You see it is really +Jesus Christ's birthday to-morrow, and I was thinking I've been getting +presents for every one in the house but Him. Nurse has been helping me +with some of them. I've made nurse a kettleholder, and cook a +needlebook, and I've bought a penknife for Ford, and a thimble for +Sarah, and some handkerchiefs for Maxwell and Mrs. Maxwell, and some +woolen gloves for Tommy. And I've nothing—no nothing for Him. If I only +knew something He would like." +</p> +<p> +She paused, and a soft wistfulness came into her eyes. +</p> +<p> +"I was thinking," she went on, "that perhaps I could put my present for +Him outside the nursery window on the ledge. And then when we are all in +bed, and it is very quiet, I expect He might send an angel down to +bring it up to Him. I think He might do that, because He knows how much +I want to give Him something. But then I don't know what to give Him. +Could you tell me, uncle?" +</p> +<p> +"I think," said Sir Edward, gravely, "the only way you can give Him +a Christmas present is to give something to the poor. He would rather +have that. I will give you this to put in the plate to-morrow in +church." +</p> +<p> +And Sir Edward put his hand in his pocket, and rolled a coin across the +table to his little niece. +</p> +<p> +But Milly was not satisfied. +</p> +<p> +"This is your present," she said, doubtfully. "What will you give Him +this Christmas besides? Is money the only thing you can give Him, +uncle?" +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward pushed back his chair and rose from the table. His feelings +were almost getting beyond his control. With the one subject that was +now always foremost in his thoughts, the child's question rang again in +his ears, "Is money the only thing you can give Him, uncle?" And like a +flash of light came a reply: +</p> +<p> +"No, I can give myself back to Him, my soul and body, that have now +been so long in the keeping of His enemy." +</p> +<p> +After a few minutes' silence he said, in a strangely quiet voice: +</p> +<p> +"Come, little one, it is bedtime; say 'Good-night,' and run up to +nurse!" +</p> +<p> +Milly came up to him, and as he stood with his back to the fire warming +his hands, she took hold of the ends of his coat in her little hands, +and, looking up at him, said: +</p> +<p> +"Uncle Edward, you gave me a kiss like a father might have done this +afternoon. Would you mind very much giving me another?" +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward looked down at the sweet little face raised so coaxingly to +his, and then took her up in his arms; but after he had given her the +desired kiss he said, with some effort,— +</p> +<p> +"I want you to do something to-night, little one. When you say your +prayers, ask that one of God's prodigal sons may be brought back this +Christmas time. It is one who wants to return. Will you pray for him?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes, uncle," replied the child softly. "And will you tell me his name?" +</p> +<p> +"No, I cannot do that." +</p> +<p> +Something in his face made his little niece refrain from asking further +questions. She left him a moment later, and Sir Edward went to the +smoking-room and seated himself in a chair by the fire. The chimes of +the village church were ringing out merrily, and presently outside in +the avenue a little company of carol singers were singing the sweet old +Christmas truths that none can hear untouched. +</p> +<p> +"<i>Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward +men</i>." +</p> +<p> +A sense of the love of God seemed to surround his soul, and this verse +came into his mind as he mused:— +</p> +<p> +"<i>I have loved thee with an everlasting love, therefore with +loving-kindness have I drawn thee</i>." +</p> +<p> +Could he not trace in the events of the last few months the hand of a +loving Father gently calling His wanderer home? Stricken down himself, +placed on a sick bed for reflection, brought to the edge of the valley +of 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 by +day, and that life having so lately been miraculously preserved from a +great danger—all this filled his heart with the realization of the +mercy and loving-kindness of God; and when again the past came up before +him, and the tempter drew near again with the old refrain, "You have +wandered too long, you have hardened your heart, and God has shut his +ear to your cry!" Sir Edward, by the help and power of the Divine +Spirit, was able to look up, and say from the depths of his heart,— +</p> +<p> +"<i>Father, I have sinned against Heaven, and in Thy sight, and am no more +worthy to be called Thy son."</i> +</p> +<p> +They were sitting in the study the next afternoon, the child upon his +knee, when Sir Edward said suddenly,— +</p> +<p> +"Do you know that I have received a letter to-day about you?" +</p> +<p> +"Who from?" asked Milly, with interest. +</p> +<p> +"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 own +children. She says a friend of hers will take charge of you and take you +to her next month. I must talk to nurse about it." +</p> +<p> +The little hands clutched hold of his coat sleeve tightly, but not a +word did Milly say. Sir Edward noted a slight quivering of the lips, and +a piteous gleam in the soft brown eyes. He waited in silence for a +moment, then said cheerfully,— +</p> +<p> +"Won't you be glad to have a lot of boys and girls to play with, instead +of staying here with a lonely old man?" +</p> +<p> +Still the child said nothing; but suddenly down went the curly head upon +his arm, and the tears came thick and fast. +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward raised the little face to his,— +</p> +<p> +"We must not have tears on Christmas Day," he said. "What is the matter, +don't you want to go?" +</p> +<p> +"I suppose I must," sobbed Milly. "Ford told nurse the day I came that +you hated children. I've always been thinking of it, but you have been +so kind to me that I thought perhaps he had made a little mistake. Miss +Kent didn't want me, and now you don't want me, and perhaps my aunt +won't want me when I get there. I wish God wanted me, but I'm afraid He +doesn't. Nurse says she thinks He wants me to work for Him when I grow +up. I think—I think I'm rather like the little kitten yesterday, that +nobody was sorry for when she died. You said there were plenty more +kittens, didn't you?" +</p> +<p> +"I don't think there are plenty of small Millicents in this world," and +Sir Edward's voice was husky. "Now listen, little woman. I have been +thinking over the matter, and have decided this afternoon to keep you +with 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." +</p> +<p> +And as the little arms were thrown round his neck, and a face full of +smiles and tears like an April shower was lifted to his, the "confirmed +old bachelor" took to his heart the little maiden whose very existence +had so annoyed and distressed him only a few months before. +</p> +<p> +"Uncle Edward," she said, a little time after, "do you know if that +prodigal son you told me about last night has come back to God?" +</p> +<p> +Sir Edward was silent for a minute, then very gravely and solemnly he +said: +</p> +<p> +"I think he has, little one. It has been a very happy Christmas Day to +him, 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 of +one of His lambs." +</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Probable Sons, by Amy LeFeuvre + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PROBABLE SONS *** + +***** This file should be named 10777-h.htm or 10777-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/7/7/10777/ + +Produced by Joel Erickson, Michael Ciesielski, Garrett Alley and PG +Distributed Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Probable Sons + +Author: Amy LeFeuvre + +Release Date: January 22, 2004 [EBook #10777] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PROBABLE SONS *** + + + + +Produced by Joel Erickson, Michael Ciesielski, Garrett Alley and PG +Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + +"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 till +they reach a sensible age is what puzzles me! And I suppose if anything +could make the matter worse, it is that this is a girl." + +The tone of disgust with which the last word was uttered brought a laugh +from Sir Edward Wentworth's companion, who replied, as he took his cigar +from his mouth and gazed critically into the worried, perplexed face of +his host-- + +"My dear fellow, she is not of an age yet to trouble you much. Wait till +she gets a bit older. When her education is finished, and she takes +possession of you and your house, will be the time for you to look to +us for pity!" + +"Look here, Sir Edward," said a bright looking youth from the other side +of the room, "I'll give you a bit of advice. Send the child straight off +to school. Is she coming to-day? Good. Then pack her off to-morrow, and +keep her there as long as is needful. Then I will go down and inspect +her, and if she grows up to be a moderately decent-looking girl, I will +do you a good turn by taking her off your hands. She will have a nice +little fortune, you informed us, and if you will give her something in +addition, out of gratitude to me for relieving you of all responsibility +concerning 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 upon +his friends as they gathered around the smoking-room fire after a hard +day's shooting, and remarked-- + +"I know what is before me. I have seen it in my sister's family, and +have heard something of all her toils and troubles. How thankful I was +when she and hers were translated to Australia, and the sea came between +us! It is first the nurses, who run off with one's butler, make love to +the keepers, and bring all kinds of followers about the house, who +sometimes make off with one's plate. Then it's the governesses, who come +and have a try at the guests, or most likely in my case they would set +their affections on me, and get the reins of government entirely into +their hands. If it is school, then there is a mass of correspondence +about the child's health and training; and, in addition, I shall have +all the ladies in the neighborhood coming to mother the child and tell +me how to train it. It is a bad look-out for me, I can tell you, and not +one of you would care to be in my shoes." + +"What is the trouble, Ned?" asked a new-comer, opening the door and +glancing at the amused faces of those surrounding Sir Edward, all of +whom seemed to be keenly enjoying their host's perplexity. + +"He has received a legacy to-day, that is all," was the response; "he +has had an orphan niece and nurse sent to him from some remote place in +the Highlands. Come, give us your case again, old fellow, for the +benefit of your cousin." + +Sir Edward, a grave, abstracted-looking man, with an iron-grey +moustache and dark, piercing eyes, looked up with a desponding shake of +the head, and repeated slowly and emphatically-- + +"A widowed sister of mine died last year, and left her little girl in +the charge of an old school friend, who has now taken a husband to +herself and discarded the child, calmly sending me the following +letter:-- + + '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 house +at this present moment. Don't you think it a hard case for such a +confirmed bachelor as I am?" + +"I do indeed," was the hearty reply; "but I think you will find a way +out of it, Ned. Take a wife unto yourself, and she will relieve you of +all responsibility." + +There was a general laugh at this, but in the midst of it the door +slowly opened, and the subject of all this discussion appeared on the +threshold, a fragile little figure, with long, golden-brown hair, and a +pair of dark brown eyes that looked calmly and searchingly in front of +her. Clad in white, with her dimpled hands crossed in front of her, she +stood there for a moment in silence, then spoke:-- + +"Where is my Uncle Edward?" + +"Here," replied Sir Edward, as he looked helplessly round, first at his +friends and then at his small niece. + +The child stepped up to him with perfect composure, and held out her +little hand, which her uncle took, undergoing all the while a severe +scrutiny from the pair of dark eyes fixed upon him. There was dead +silence in the room. Sir Edward's companions were delighting in the +scene, and his great discomfiture only heightened their enjoyment. + +"Well," he said at length, rather feebly, "I think you know the look of +me 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 to +quiver, while a pink flush rose to her cheeks, and she glanced wistfully +round, in the hope of seeing some sympathetic face near her. + +But Sir Edward could not bring himself to do this. Laying his hand on +the curly head raised to his, he patted it as he might his dog, and +said,-- + +"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, and +Milly's question was answered by a shout of laughter. + +Again the child's face flushed, and then a grey-haired man stepped +forward. + +"Come, Wentworth, this is a severe ordeal for such a mite. I have +grandchildren of my own, so am not so scared as you. Now, little one, is +that better?" + +And in an instant the child was lifted by him and placed upon his knee +as he took a seat by the fire. + +Milly heaved a short sigh. + +"I like this," she said, looking up at him confidingly. "Does Uncle +Edward really want me to go to bed? Nurse said it wasn't time yet. Nurse +wanted 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 a +very fine joke to all you fellows, but if I don't make my authority felt +at once, it will be all up with me. Lovell, be so good as to ring that +bell." + +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 to +appear in my presence again unless sent for. Now, Millicent, go at +once." + +The child slid down from her seat, but though evidently puzzled at the +quick, sharp words, she seemed to have no fear, for, going up to her +uncle, 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 till +her uncle muttered the desired words that she relinquished her hold and +followed 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 his +house with his London friends, he was better pleased to live the greater +part of the year in seclusion, occupying himself with looking after his +estate and writing articles for several of the leading reviews of the +day. + +The advent of his small niece was indeed a great trial to him, but, with +his characteristic thoroughness, he determined that he would make the +necessary arrangements for her comfort. Accordingly he had a long +interview with her nurse the following morning. It proved to be +satisfactory. The nurse was a staid, elderly woman, who assured him she +was accustomed to the sole charge of the child, and would keep her +entirely under her own control. + +"I expect you would like her to be sent down to you in the evening--at +dessert, 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 some +do. I thought you would expect to see her once in the day." + +After a little hesitation Sir Edward gave his permission; and when he +found that Milly neither screamed nor snatched for the fruit on the +table, and did not herself engross the whole conversation, he became +quite reconciled to the little white figure stealing in and occupying +the 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 his +ordinary life, he was constantly coming across her. Sometimes he would +find her in the stables, her arms round the stable cat, and the grooms +holding a voluble conversation with her, or among the cows at the bottom +of the paddock, or feeding the pigs and fowls in the poultry yard. +Generally she was attended by Fritz, a beautiful collie, who had, with +the fickleness of his nature, transferred his affection from his master +to her, and though uncertain in temper towards most, was never anything +but amiable when with the little girl. + +Her uncle's form approaching was quite a sufficient hint to her to make +herself scarce. She would generally anticipate the usual formula: "Now +run 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 standing +the little figure would be running off in the distance, Fritz close at +her heels. + +One afternoon Sir Edward was returning from a stroll up the avenue when +he saw the child at play among the trees, and for a moment he paused and +watched her. She appeared to be very busy with a doll wrapped in a fur +rug which she carefully deposited at the foot of the tree; then for some +minutes she and Fritz seemed to be having a kind of a game of hide and +seek with one another, until she pushed him into a bush and commanded +him to stay there. Suddenly dog and child darted at each other, and +then, to Sir Edward's amazement, he saw his little niece seize Fritz by +the throat and bring him to the ground. When both were rolling over one +another, 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 you +doing?" + +In an instant Milly was upon her feet, and lifting a hot flushed little +face to his, she placed herself in her favorite attitude when in his +presence; her hands clasped behind her back, and feet closely planted +together. + +"Don't you know Fritz might bite if you are so rough with him? Were you +trying to choke him?" demanded her uncle. + +"Yes," she responded, breathless from her late exertions, "I was trying +to kill him! He's a bear, and that's my lamb, and I am David; that's +all." + +A child's games were beyond Sir Edward's comprehension. He looked down +upon 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 she +is 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's +Goliath. He is looking at me now. Do you see where his eyes come? Just +up there in those first branches. When it's windy he shakes his head at +me fearful! He's a wicked, wicked old thing, and he thinks no one can +knock him down. Do you remember about him, uncle?" + +Sir Edward was becoming slightly interested. He leaned against a tree +and 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 man +to 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 tiny +calico bag, which she opened very carefully and disclosed to her uncle's +puzzled gaze five round stones. + +"You see," she went on, "it's a pity I haven't a sling, but Tom in the +stable 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 bit +afraid, though he looks so big, because David wasn't, you know. God +helped him. Now, Goliath, I'm ready!" + +Sir Edward looked on in some amusement as Milly stepped out with regular +even steps until she was about twenty feet from the tree, then suddenly +stopped. + +"I hear what you say, Goliath. You say you'll give my body to be pecked +at and eaten by the birds; but you won't do that, for I am coming, and I +am going to kill you." + +And then with all her strength the child flung her stones one by one at +the tree, pausing for some moments when she had done so. + +"He's quite dead, uncle," she said calmly, as she retraced her steps and +stood before Sir Edward, again looking up at him with those earnest eyes +of hers, "quite dead; and if I had a sword I would play at cutting off +his head. I suppose you wouldn't lend me your sword hanging up in the +hall, would you?" + +"Most certainly not," was the quick reply. Then taking his cigar from +his 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 so +wicked and so strong." + +Milly continued,-- + +"This is such a lovely place to play in--trees are so nice to have games +with. Shall I tell you some more? Do you see that little tree over +there? That's where I sit when I'm the probable son, and when I've sat +there a long time and been very miserable, and eaten some of the beech +nuts that do for husks, then suddenly I think I will go home to my +father. 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 my +father. Do you see that nice big old tree right up there with the red +leaves, 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 then +I just hug him and kiss him; and, do you know, I feel he hugs and kisses +me back. He does in the story, you know. And then I have a nice little +feast all ready. I get some biscuits from nurse, and a little jam, and +some sugar and water, and I sit down and feel so happy to think I'm not +the probable son any more, and haven't got to eat husks or be with the +pigs. Don't you think that's a beautiful game, uncle?" + +"Do you get all your games from the Bible?" inquired Sir Edward. "I +somehow think it is not quite correct," and he looked very dubiously at +his little niece as he spoke. + +"Well," said Milly, the earnest look coming into her eyes again, "I love +the 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 a +reply. His little niece's words awakened very uncomfortable feelings +within his heart. Years before he had known and loved his Bible well. He +had been active in Christian work, and had borne many a scoff and jeer +from his companions when at Oxford for being "pious," as they termed it. +But there came a time when coldness crept into his Christianity, and +worldly ambition and desires filled his soul. Gradually he wandered +farther and farther away from the right path, and when he came into his +property he took possession of it with no other aim and object in life +than to enjoy himself in his own way and to totally ignore both the past +and future. Beyond going to church once on Sunday he made no profession +of religion, but that custom he conformed to most regularly, and the +vicar of the parish had nothing to complain of in the way in which his +appeals for charity were met by the squire. It is needless to say that +Sir Edward was not a happy man. There were times when he could not bear +his own thoughts and the solitude of his position; and at such times +there was a hasty departure for town, and some weeks of club life +ensued, after which he would return to his home, and engross himself in +both 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. Her +extreme docility and great fearlessness, added to her quaintness of +speech and action, attracted him greatly. He became interested in +watching her little figure as it flitted to and fro, and the sunny laugh +and bright childish voice about the house were no longer an annoyance to +him. + +One day he was moved to anger by an accident that happened to a small +statue in the hall and Milly was the delinquent. Her ball had rolled +behind it, and both she and the dog were having a romp to get it, when +in the scuffle the statue came to the ground and lay there in a thousand +pieces. Hearing the crash, Sir Edward came out of his study, and +completely losing his temper, he turned furiously upon the child, giving +vent to language that was hardly fit for her ears to hear. She stood +before him with round, frightened eyes and quivering lips, her little +figure upright and still, until she could bear it no longer; and then +she turned and fled from him through the garden door out upon the smooth +grassy lawn, where she flung herself down face foremost close to her +favorite 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 I +had a father! I want a father like the probable son; he wouldn't be so +angry!" + +And when later on nurse came, with an anxious face, to fetch her little +charge 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 the +words,-- + +"Oh, nurse, dear, carry me in your arms. No one loves me here. I've been +telling God all about it. He's the only One that isn't angry." + +That evening, at the accustomed time, Milly stole quietly into the +dining-room, wondering in her little heart whether her uncle was still +angry with her. + +As she climbed into her chair, now placed on the opposite side of the +large table, she eyed him doubtfully through her long eyelashes; then +gathering courage from the immovable expression of his face, she said in +her most cheerful tone,-- + +"It's a very fine night, uncle." + +"Is it?" responded Sir Edward, who was accustomed by this time to some +such remark when his little niece wanted to attract his notice. Then +feeling really ashamed of his outburst a few hours before, he said, by +way of excusing himself,--"Look here, Millicent, you made me exceedingly +angry by your piece of mischief this afternoon. That statue can never be +replaced, and you have destroyed one of my most valuable possessions. +Let it be a warning for the future. If ever you break anything again, I +shall 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 'unfortunate +accident.' I asked her what an accident was. She says it's a thing that +happens when you don't expect it--a surprise, she called it. I'm sure +it was a dreadful surprise to me, and to Fritz, too; but I'll never play +ball in the hall again, _never_!" + +A week later, and Sir Edward was in his study, absorbed in his books and +papers, when there was a knock at his door, and, to his astonishment, +his little niece walked in. This was so against all rules and +regulations that his voice was very stern as he said,-- + +"What is the meaning of this intrusion, Millicent? You know you are +never allowed to disturb me when here." + +Milly did not answer for a moment. She walked up to her uncle, her small +lips tightly closed, and then, standing in front of him with clasped +hands, she said,-- + +"I've come to tell you some dreadful news." + +Sir Edward pushed aside his papers, adjusted his glasses, and saw from +the 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 presence +uncalled for. + +"It's a dreadful surprise again," Milly continued, "but I told nurse I +must tell you at once. I--I felt so bad here," and her little hand was +laid pathetically on her chest. + +"Well, what is it? Out with it, child! You are wasting my time," said +her 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 the +tool-house. I--I--well, I put it on Fritz's head for a hat, you know. He +did 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 the +mat. Shall I bring them in?" + +A flower-pot was of such small value in Sir Edward's eyes that he almost +smiled at the child's distress. + +"Well, well, you must learn not to touch the flower-pots in future. Now +run 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 broke +anything again you would punish me '_most_ severely.' Those were the +words you said; don't you remember?" + +Sir Edward pulled the ends of his moustache and fidgeted uneasily in his +chair. He always prided himself upon being a man of his word, but much +regretted 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's +anxious gaze with some embarrassment. Then pulling himself together, he +added sternly,-- + +"Of course you must be punished; it was exceedingly careless and +mischievous. What does your nurse do when she punishes you?" + +"She never does punish me--not now," said Milly plaintively. "When I was +a very little girl I used to stand in the corner. I don't think nurse +has punished me for years." + +Sir Edward was in a dilemma; children's punishments were quite unknown +to 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 from +my father!" + +"What is a whipping--like you gave Fritz when he went into the game +wood?" + +"Yes." + +There was a pause. The child clasped her little hands tighter, and set +her lips firmer, as she saw before her eyes a strong arm dealing very +heavy 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 so +erect before him. + +"No," he said; "I do not think you are a fit subject for that kind of +treatment." + +Milly heaved a sigh of relief. + +"And don't you know how to punish," she said after some minutes of +awkward silence. There was commiseration in her tone. The situation was +becoming ludicrous to Sir Edward, though there was a certain amount of +annoyance at feeling his inability to carry out his threat. + +"Nurse told me," continued his little niece gravely, "that she knew a +little boy who was shut up in a dark cupboard for a punishment; but he +was found nearly dead, and really died the next day, from fright. There +is a dark cupboard on the kitchen stairs. I don't think I should be very +frightened, because God will be in there with me. Do you think that +would 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 who +picked up sticks on Sunday--he was stoned dead; and Elisha's servant was +made a leper, and some children were killed by a bear, and a prophet by +a 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 left +out the 'most severely,' it would make it easier, I expect." + +"Perhaps I might do that," said poor Sir Edward, who by this time longed +to dispense with the punishment altogether; "as it was only a +flower-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 his +knee--"I think if I were to go to bed instead of coming down to dessert +with 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 last +breakage. I cannot be worried with your punishments." + +"I will try to be very good, nurse, always," said Milly while being +tucked up in bed that night, "because Uncle Edward is very puzzled when +he has to punish me. He doesn't know what to do. He looked quite unhappy +and said it worried him." + +And Sir Edward as he finished his dinner in silence and solitude +muttered to himself,-- + +"That child is certainly a great nuisance at times, but, upon my word, I +quite miss her this evening. Children after all are original, if they +are nothing else, and she is one of the most original that I have ever +met." + +It was Sunday morning, and Sir Edward was just starting for church. As +he stood over the blazing fire in the hall buttoning a glove, a little +voice 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, slipping +her 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 enough +now, and I have been to church in the afternoon sometimes." + +Sir Edward hesitated. "If you come, you will fidget, I expect. I cannot +stand 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. Be +quick and get ready." + +A few moments after, Sir Edward and his little niece were walking down +the avenue, she clasping a large Bible under her arm, and trying in vain +to match her steps with his. + +The squire's pew was one of the old-fashioned high ones, and Milly's +head did not reach the top of it. Very quiet and silent she was during +the service, and very particular to follow her uncle's example in every +respect, though she nearly upset his gravity at the outset by taking off +her hat in imitation of him and covering her face with it. But when the +sermon commenced her large dark eyes were riveted on the clergyman as he +gave out the text so well known to her:-- + +"_I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father, I +have sinned against Heaven, and before thee, and am no more worthy to be +called thy son_"; and though the sermon was half an hour in length, her +gaze 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 well +except 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 very +comfortable under the good vicar's words. + +"I can't say that; I always forget it. Nurse says one long word is as +good as another sometimes. Uncle, what did the clergyman mean by people +running 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 away +from 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? I +play at that, you know. All sorts of things happen to me before I sit +down at the beech tree, but--but it's so different with God. Why, I +should 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 who +would listen to my prayers? Why, Uncle Edward, I think I should die of +fright 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 her +growing 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 see +Maxwell, so we will go through the wood." + +Maxwell was Sir Edward's head game-keeper, and a little later found them +at his pretty cottage at the edge of the wood. It was Milly's first +visit, and Mrs. Maxwell, a motherly-looking body, greeted her with such +a sunshiny smile that the child drew near to her instinctively. + +"What a lovely room," she exclaimed, looking round the homely little +kitchen with a child's admiring eyes, "and what a beautiful cat! May I +stroke her?" + +Assent being given, Milly was soon seated in a large cushioned chair, a +fat tabby cat on her lap, and while Sir Edward was occupied with his +keeper she was making fast friends with the wife. + +"Uncle Edward," she said, when they had taken their leave and were +walking homewards, "Mrs. Maxwell has asked me to go to tea with her +to-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; "it +is 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, do +you think the trees talk to one another? I always think they do. Look +at 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 hear +them 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 around +the 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 or +two occasionally, and on the whole did not find his small niece bad +company. He told her when they entered the house that she could go to +church every Sunday morning in future with him, and that sent Milly to +the nursery with a radiant face, there to confide to nurse that she had +had 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 she +could talk of nothing else. + +"They were so kind to me, uncle. Mrs. Maxwell made a hot currant cake on +purpose for me, and the cat had a red ribbon for company, and we sat by +the fire and talked when Maxwell was out, and she told me such lovely +stories, and I saw a beautiful picture of the probable son in the best +parlor, 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 on +one 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 I +wouldn'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 real +live 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 she +had a dear son who had run away from home, and she hadn't seen him for +nine years. Just fancy! Where was I nine years ago?" + +"Not born." + +"But I must have been somewhere," and Milly's active little brain now +started another train of thought, until she got fairly bewildered. + +"I expect I was fast asleep in God's arms," she said at length, with +knitted brows; "only, of course, I don't remember," and having settled +that point to her satisfaction, she continued her story: + +"Mrs. Maxwell's 'probable son' is called Tommy. He ran away when he was +seventeen because he didn't like the blacksmith's shop. Mrs. Maxwell and +I cried about him. He had such curly hair, and stood six feet in his +stockings, and he was a _beautiful_ baby when he was little, and had +croup and--and confusions, and didn't come to for four hours; but he +would run away, though he laid the fire and put sticks on it and drew +the water for Mrs. Maxwell before he went. And Mrs. Maxwell says he may +be a soldier or a sailor now for all she knows, and he may be drownded +dead, or run over, or have both his legs shot to pieces, or he may be in +India with the blacks; but I told her he was very likely taking care of +some pigs somewhere, and she got happy a little bit then, and we dried +our tears, and she gave me some peppermint to suck. Isn't it a wonderful +story, uncle?" + +"Very wonderful," was the response. + +"Well, we were in the middle of talking when Maxwell came in, so we +hushed, because Mrs. Maxwell said, 'It makes my man so sad'; but, do you +know, when Maxwell was bringing me home through the wood he asked me +what we had been talking about, and he said he knew it was about the +boy because he could see it in Mrs. Maxwell's eye. And then I asked him +if he would run and kiss Tommy when he came back, and if he would make a +feast; 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 then +there was David, you know, who really had a wicked son, with long +hair--I forget his name--and he cried dreadful when he was dead. I +sometimes tell God about it when I'm in bed, and then He--He just seems +to put His arms round me and send me off to sleep; at least, I think He +does. Nurse says God likes me to call Him my Father, but of course that +isn't quite the same as having a father I can see. Maxwell is a very +nice father, I think. I told him I would pray for Tommy every night when +I 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 run +away from Him. I've been asking God to make them come back. I hope He +will let me know when they do. Do you know any one who has run away from +God, uncle?" + +"You are chattering too much, child," said Sir Edward irritably; "sit +still and be quiet." + +Milly instantly obeyed, and after some moments of silence her uncle +said,-- + +"I don't mind your going to Maxwell's cottage, but you must never take +Fritz with you. He is not allowed in that wood at all. Do you quite +understand?" + +"Yes, but I'm very sorry, for Fritz doesn't like being left behind; the +tears were in his eyes when nurse told him he wasn't to go with me. You +see, no one talks to him like I do. He likes me to tell him stories, and +I told him when I came back about my visit, so he wants to go. But I +won't take him with me if you say no." + +When she was leaving him that night for bed, she paused a moment as she +wished him good-night. + +"Uncle Edward, when you say your prayers to-night, will you ask God to +make 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 probable +sons, won't you? Do, Uncle Edward. Mrs. Maxwell said the only thing that +comforted her is asking God to bring Tommy back." + +Sir Edward made no reply, only dismissed her more peremptorily than +usual, and when she had left the room he leaned his arms on the chimney +piece, and resting his head on them, gazed silently into the fire with a +knitted brow. His thoughts did not soothe him, for he presently raised +his head with a short laugh, saying to himself,-- + +"Where is my cigar-case? I will go and have a smoke to get rid of this +fit of the blues. I shall have to curb that child's tongue a little. She +is getting too troublesome." + +And while he was pacing moodily up and down the terrace outside, a +little white-robed figure, with bent head and closed eyes, was saying +softly 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 any +more. Bring him home very soon, please, and will you bring back all your +probable sons who are running away from you, for Jesus Christ's sake. +Amen." + +Sir Edward did not escape several visits from ladies in the neighborhood +offering to befriend his little niece, but all these overtures were +courteously and firmly rejected. He told them the child was happy with +her 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 her +education. So Milly was left alone, more than one mother remarking with +a shake of the head-- + +"It's a sad life for a child, but Sir Edward is peculiar, and when he +gets a notion into his head he keeps to it." + +The child was not unhappy, and when the days grew shorter, and her +rambles out of doors were curtailed, she would lie on the tiger-skin by +the hall fire with Fritz for the hour together, pouring out to him all +her childish confidences. + +Sometimes her uncle would find her perched on the broad window-seat +half-way up the staircase, with her little face pressed against the +windowpanes, and late on one very cold afternoon in November he +remonstrated with her. + +"It is too cold for you here, Millicent," he said sternly; "you ought to +be in the nursery." + +"I don't feel cold," she replied. "I don't like being in the nursery all +day; and when it gets dark, nurse will have the lamp lit and the +curtains drawn, and then there are only the walls and ceiling and the +pictures 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; make +Fritz move a little. Now, you look out with me. I can see such a lot +from 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't +His world, are they? Do you see my trees? I can see Goliath from this +window; he looks very fierce to-night; he has lost all his leaves, and I +can almost hear him muttering to himself. And then, uncle, do you see +those nice thin trees cuddling each other? I call those David and +Jon'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 I +sit when I'm the probable son. It's too dark for you to see all the +others. I have names for them all nearly, but I like to come and watch +them, and then I see the stars just beginning to come out. Do you know +what I think about the stars? They're angels' eyes, and they look down +and blink at me so kindly, and then I look up and blink back. We go on +blinking at each other sometimes till I get quite sleepy. I watch the +birds 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 her +uncle's hand as he was moving away, she said,-- + +"Just one thing more I want to show you, uncle. I can see the high-road +for such a long way over there, and when it is not quite so dark I sit +and watch for Tommy--that's Maxwell's probable son, you know. I should +be so glad if I were to see him coming along one day with his head +hanging down, and all ragged and torn. He is sure to come some day--God +will bring him--and if I see him coming first, I shall run off quick to +Maxwell and tell him, and then he will run out to meet him. Won't it be +lovely?" + +And with shining eyes Milly shook back her brown curls and looked up +into her uncle's face for sympathy. He patted her head, the nearest +approach to a caress that he ever gave her, and left her without saying +a word. + +Another day, later still, he came upon her at the staircase window. He +was dining out that night, and was just leaving the house, but stopped +as he noticed his little niece earnestly waving her handkerchief up at +the 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 sweet +and serious. + +"I was just waving to God, Uncle Edward. I thought I saw Him looking +down at me from the sky." + +Sir Edward passed on, muttering inaudibly,-- + +"I believe that child lives in the presence of God from morning to +night". + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +A PRODIGAL. + +"Uncle Edward, nurse and I are going shopping; would you like us to buy +you anything? We are going in the dog-cart with Harris." + +Milly was dancing up and down on the rug inside the front door as she +spoke. It was a bright, frosty morning, and Sir Edward was leaving the +breakfast-room with the newspaper and a large packet of letters in his +hand. He stopped and glanced at the little fur-clad figure as she stood +there, eager anticipation written on her face, and his thoughts went +back to the time when he as a boy looked upon a day's visit to the +neighboring town--nine miles away--as one of his greatest pleasures. + +"Yes," he said, slowly fumbling in his waistcoat pocket; "you can get me +some pens and blotting paper at the stationer's. I will write down the +kind I want, and here is the money. Keep the change, and buy anything +you 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 was +wanting to buy something my own self, and I've only a little cook gave +me, but now I shall be quite rich." + +It was late in the afternoon when nurse and her little charge drove +back, and Sir Edward met them coming up the avenue. Milly's face was +clouded, and there were traces of tears on her cheeks, and this was such +an unusual sight that Sir Edward inquired of the nurse what was the +matter. + +"She has not been good, sir, I am sorry to say. It isn't often that I +have to pull her up, but she has given me such a fright and trouble this +afternoon as I am not likely to forget in a hurry." + +"What has she been doing? But never mind; I will not detain you now. I +can hear about it when we get in." + +Nurse was evidently very disturbed in mind, for she poured into Sir +Edward'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; for +cook, she gave me so many commissions I had to write a long list of +them. I said to Miss Milly, 'You can stand outside, but don't go a step +farther.' She knows she is never allowed to speak to such people; I've +known, as I told her, children being carried bodily off and set down at +a street corner with hardly a rag on their backs; and to think of her +marching off with him, and never a thought of my anxiety--and the way I +went rushing up and down the streets--and the policemen--they are +perfectly 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 my +purse and my best umbrella; I left them both somewhere, but it was nigh +on two hours I spent, and my shopping not near done, and he the greatest +looking rascal that one might see coming out of jail. I'm sure I +shouldn't have been so angry but to see her smiling face, as if she +hadn't done any wrong at all, nor disobeyed me flatly, and most likely +put herself in the way of catching the most infectious disease from the +very 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, but +quite 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 quite +convinced her of her wrong-doing. + +Sir Edward was surprised at the interest he felt in his little niece's +trouble. + +"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 him +in astonishment, and Ford, the old butler, standing by, said with great +solemnity,-- + +"You may well stare, nurse. Mark my words, that child will be able to +twist him round with her little finger one of these days. I see it +a-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're +in short frocks." + +"I don't see the remarkableness in a gentleman taking notice of his own +sister's child," returned nurse testily; "the wonder is that he should +hold her at arm's length as he does, and treat her as if she were a dog +or a piece of furniture, without any feelings, and she his own flesh and +blood, too. There's no 'coming down' to have a spark of humanity in his +breast occasionally." + +And nurse sailed upstairs, the loss of her purse and umbrella having +considerably 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 tiny +handkerchief to her eyes, and vainly trying to restrain her sobs. + +"Now suppose you stop crying, and tell me what has happened!" her uncle +said, feeling moved at seeing his usually self-contained little niece in +such grief. + +Milly applied her handkerchief vigorously to her eyes, and looking up +with quivering lips, she said,-- + +"I didn't mean to be naughty, uncle. Nurse hasn't been angry with me +like she is now for _years_, and I'm _so_ unhappy!" + +The pitiful tone and look touched Sir Edward's heart, and, on the +impulse of the moment, he did what he had never as yet attempted--lifted +her 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 was +able to give him a pretty clear account of what had happened. + +"I had bought your pens and blotting-paper, uncle, and was going to a +picture-shop to spend the rest of my money when nurse had finished at +the grocer's. I was standing outside, when I saw a man coming along. He +limped, and his hat was broken in, and he was so ragged that I thought +he must be a probable son, and then I thought he might be Tommy going +home, and when I thought that, I couldn't think of nothing else, and I +forgot all about nurse, and I forgot she told me to stay there, and I +ran after him as hard as I could. I caught him up, and he looked very +astonished when I asked him was his name Tommy. He said, 'No,' and he +laughed at me, and then I asked him was he a probable son, because he +looked 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 home +to run away from, so that wouldn't do; but he really looked just like +the man I've seen in Mr. Maxwell's picture, and I told him so, and then +I 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 up +to her uncle's face, and her voice dropped almost to a whisper as she +said,-- + +"I found out he was one of God's probable sons. When I asked him if he +had run away from God, he said yes, he supposed he had done that, so of +course he was ragged and unhappy." + +"That is not always the case," put in Sir Edward, half touched, half +amused. "Sometimes it is very rich people who run away from God, and +they 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 the +shops, and then he turned down a lane, and I went with him; and we were +both rather tired, so we sat down together on some doorsteps inside an +archway, and he told me all about himself. His name is Jack, and his +father and mother are dead, like mine; and he got drunk one night, and +fell down and broke his arm, and then he went to a hospital; and when he +got 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. I +asked him were there no pigs to keep, but he said there weren't any in +London, 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 he +said something about going to the bad, which I couldn't quite +understand. Then I asked him why he didn't go back to God, and he said +he had been a good boy once, when he went to Sunday-school, and he had a +very good uncle who kept a baker's shop in London, and who wanted him to +go 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't +tramp back again to London, it was too far, and he had no money. So +then I opened my purse, and we counted over my money together, and he +said 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 told +him." + +"The scoundrel!" muttered Sir Edward. + +Milly paused. "Why are you looking so angry, uncle? I was so glad to +give him the money; and then we talked a good deal, and I begged him not +to be one of God's probable sons any more. Fancy! He wouldn't believe +God loved him, and he wouldn't believe that God wanted him back! I told +him I should be quite frightened to get away from God, and he--well, he +almost 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 me +much except nurse, but God did. I feel He loves me, and I know He loves +Jack just the same; doesn't He, uncle?" + +"And when did nurse find you?" inquired Sir Edward, evading this +question. + +Milly's little face, which had been gradually brightening with the +interest 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 she +snatched me away, and said that Jack was a thief and--and a vagbag, or +something like that. She scolded me all the way home, and I don't think +she 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 wished +him good-bye. I don't think nurse would run and meet a probable son if +she had one; she thinks all ragged people are wicked. But I'm--I'm +dreadful 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 were +naughty to run after a strange man like that, and I quite understand +nurse'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 do +it there." + +"I don't want to see nurse till I have done it. May I? Will you ask God +to forgive me too?" + +"Your prayer will be quite sufficient." + +Milly slipped off his knee, and then, kneeling down with folded hands +and closed eyes, she said softly,-- + +"Please God, will you forgive me! I'm so sorry I disobeyed nurse and ran +away. And please take care of Jack, and bring him back to you, for Jesus +Christ's sake. Amen." + +"Now run along to nurse, and don't cry any more," said Sir Edward, as he +rose 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 of +your 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 give +it to him; he said he would send it back to me in a letter." + +Sir Edward laughed unbelievingly, and Milly trotted upstairs to be +received with open arms by nurse at the nursery door. + +"There! never mind, my dear. I have been very angry with you, but +you'll never do such a thing again. Come and have your tea. I've had a +cup already, and feel wonderful better. Now, don't cry any more; bless +your little heart, I can't bear to see you in tears." + +With that nurse took her up in her arms; and poor tired little Milly +whispered, as she clung to her,-- + +"I was afraid you would never love me again. I've told God I'm sorry; do +you quite forgive me?" + +"Quite, my lamb," was the reply; "and as to loving you, I shouldn't give +over doing that if you were twice as troublesome." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +A PROMISE KEPT. + +About a fortnight later Sir Edward, who always opened the post-bag +himself, found there a letter addressed to his little niece, and sent a +message to the nursery to tell her to come down to him. She arrived very +surprised at the summons, as Sir Edward always wished to be left +undisturbed at his breakfast, but when she saw the letters on the table +she 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. Come +here and open it." + +Milly took the letter, and her little fingers fairly trembled with +excitement 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 were +wrong. 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 reading +it. Milly's face was radiant. + +"I've never had a letter in my life before, uncle, but I don't quite +understand all of it. Will you explain it to me?" + +And this her uncle did, sending her upstairs at length to show it to +nurse, but sitting wrapped in thought himself and leaving both his +letters 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 instantly +took fright and bolted. + +For some time Sir Edward kept steadily to his seat, and though powerless +to check the animal's course was able to guide it; but in spite of all +his efforts the trap was at last upset, and he was thrown violently to +the ground. He had no groom with him, and the accident took place on a +lonely road, so that it was not till an hour later that help came, in +the shape of a farmer returning from market in his cart. He found Sir +Edward unconscious, and the horse still feebly struggling to extricate +himself from under the trap, which was badly broken. + +It was about seven o'clock in the evening when Sir Edward was brought +home, and he had three ribs broken, besides some very severe injuries to +his head. The doctor wished to telegraph for a nurse from London, but +Sir Edward had a horror of them, and having recovered consciousness +shook his head vehemently when it was suggested; and so it ended in +Milly's nurse volunteering to assist his valet in nursing him. Poor +little Milly wandered about the house with Fritz at her heels in a very +woe-begone fashion. What with the anxiety in her heart lest her uncle +should die, and the absence of her nurse--who could spare little time +now to look after her--she felt most forlorn, and her greatest comfort +was 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 in +and see him, but this was not allowed. At last permission was given by +the 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, the +contents of which were unknown to all except herself. + +Softly she crept up to the bed and looked at her uncle's bandaged head +and worn face with the greatest awe. + +He put out his hand, which she took in hers, and then she said, her +brown eyes fixed wistfully on his face,-- + +"I've wanted to see you, Uncle Edward, for so long. I wish you would let +me 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 live +again; now isn't He? I wasn't quite sure whether you mightn't like to +die 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 for +me 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, and +then 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've +learned to say it properly now--all in rags hurrying along the road, and +there's his old father in the distance coming to meet him; and can you +see the words underneath?--_'I will arise and go to my father, and will +say unto him, Father, I have sinned against Heaven, and before thee_.' I +thought you would like it to look at while you are in bed. May I rest it +against the rail at the bottom of your bed?--then you can see it +beautifully." + +Nurse came forward and helped the child to put the picture in the place +she wished; and Sir Edward tried to look pleased, and said in a low +tone,-- + +"Thank you, little one, I can see it well from there"; but under his +breath he muttered, "Has she a purpose in bringing that everlasting +subject before me? I'm sick to death of it. I shall get rid of that +picture when she is gone." + +But he did not. His eyes grew somewhat wistful as he gazed upon it, and +later in the day, when nurse asked him if he would like to have it +removed, he shook his head in the negative. + +No one could know his thoughts during those long days and nights of +weariness and pain. The restlessness of body did not equal the +restlessness of soul, and the past came back with a startling vividness. +The wasted years, the misused talents, and above all, the fast-closed +heart against its rightful Owner, now seemed to stand up in judgment +against him. Often in his wretchedness would he groan aloud, and wish +for unconsciousness to come to his aid and consign to oblivion his +accusing memory. + +It was a cold, gray afternoon. Mrs. Maxwell's little kitchen was in +perfect order. The fire shed flickering lights on the bright dish-covers +on the wall, and the blue and white china on the old-fashioned dresser +was touched with a ruddy glow. Mrs. Maxwell herself, seated in a wooden +rocking-chair, in spotless white apron, was knitting busily as she +talked; and Milly on a low stool, the tabby in her arms, with her +golden-brown curls in pretty disorder, and her large dark eyes gazing +earnestly 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; but +there!--the Almighty sends it, and it must be right, and I don't think +folks 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 they +say they must have sunshine. I allays thinks they've no sunshine in +their 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 sorry +for the trees. I was out this morning with Fritz, and I talked to them +and 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 they +sighed and shook their heads; it's such a long time to wait, and they +have nothing to do--they can only stand still. I was very sad this +morning. After I had talked to them, I went down to the plantation at +the bottom of the lawn, and on the way I came to a poor dead frog. Fritz +sniffed at him, but he didn't seem to be sorry. I don't know how he +died. I thought perhaps he had stayed out in the cold and got frozen, he +felt so very cold. I took him up and buried him, and I wondered if his +mother would miss him; and then I went on a little farther, and there +were some little bird's feathers all in a heap on the ground. I felt +sure a cruel cat had been eating it up, and I couldn't help crying, for +everything seemed to be dying. And when I got to the plantation I was a +little comforted, for the fir-trees looked so comfortable and warm--they +hadn't lost their leaves like the other trees--but do you know, in the +middle of them all was a tall, thin, bare tree--he looked so lonely and +unhappy, and he was the only one without any leaves." + +"One of those birches, I expect. My man, he said the other day that the +fir plantation yonder wanted weeding out." + +"Well, I couldn't bear to see him so sad, so I crept right in amongst +the firs until I got to him, and then I put my arms right round him and +cuddled him tight. I told him God would take care of him, and give him a +beautiful 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 the +firs are very stiff and proud. I--I kissed him before I came away. It +was a sad morning." + +Milly's tone was truly pathetic, and Mrs. Maxwell, who loved to hear her +childish fancies and never laughed at them, now looked up from her +knitting 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 let +me 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 have +had to go to the workhouse?" + +"Bless your little heart, no! Why, my man and I was saying the other day +that it's most sure as you'll be mistress of the property one day. Sir +Edward 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 said +they wondered what would happen to me. I think he is my only uncle, so I +couldn't go anywhere else. I wish I had a father, Mrs. Maxwell, I'm +always wishing for one. I never remember my father. My mother I do, but +she was always ill, and she didn't like me to bother her. Do you know, I +thought 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 him +either. I should like him to take me up in his arms and kiss me. Do you +think 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 some +one is smelling as if it wants to come out," was Mrs. Maxwell's brisk +response as she bustled out of her chair, her old eyes moist with +feeling. + +In an instant Milly's pensiveness had disappeared. A baked apple +dumpling had great charms for her, and no one would have believed that +the light-hearted child with the merry laugh, now dancing around the +room, and climbing up to the dresser for a plate, was the same as the +one who had so sadly discoursed a few moments before on the mournfulness +of 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 with +herself and surroundings. + +"Ah! Didn't I? I mind when he used to come in on Saturdays from the +forge, I always had a hot pudding for him. He used to say there was no +one as cooked as well as mother." + +"He's a long time coming home, isn't he, Mrs. Maxwell? I get so tired of +waiting. I wish he would come for Christmas." + +"I'm not tired of waiting," Mrs. Maxwell said softly, "and I've waited +these nine years, but it sometimes seems as if it is only yesterday as +he went off. I feel at times like fretting sadly over him, and wish I +knew if he was alive or dead, but then the Lord do comfort one, and I +know He sees just where he is, and He'll let me know when the right time +comes." + +"I'm expecting him every day," said Milly with a cheerful little nod. "I +was telling God about him last night at my window on the stairs--and it +seemed as if God said to me that he was coming very soon now. I +shouldn't wonder if he came next week!" + +The keeper entered the cottage at this moment, and Milly jumped off her +seat at once. + +"I'm afraid it's time for me to be going back. Nurse said I was to be in +at four. Are you going to take me, Maxwell?" + +"Don't I always see you safe and sound up at the house?" Maxwell said +good-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 saying +is, 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 be +doleful in that big house by yourself. Your uncle will soon be well, and +nurse will be better able to see after you. I don't know what all those +servants 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 she +runs away downstairs pretty often. Good-bye, Mrs. Maxwell." + +It was getting dark. Maxwell soon had the child in his strong arms, and +was striding along at a great pace, when passing a rather dark corner, a +man suddenly sprang out of the bushes and took to his heels. + +Maxwell shouted out wrathfully: "Let me see you in here again, and it +will 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 the +rabbits. If I hadn't a-had you to look after and had my thick stick I +would 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--Tommy +coming home! You couldn't see who it was, could you? It would be +dreadful if you chased away Tommy." + +"No fear o' that," Maxwell said in a quieter tone. "My own son wouldn't +skulk 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's +prodigal son, Maxwell." + +"He was just a poacher, my dear, and I think I know the chap. He's +staying at the Blue Dragon, and has been a-watching this place for some +time." + +"Perhaps he is one of God's prodigal sons," said Milly softly, "like +Jack was." + +To this Maxwell made no reply, but when he set her down in the +brightly-lighted hall a little later, he said,-- + +"Don't you fret about our Tommy. I should know him fast enough. He +wouldn't run from his own father." + +And Milly went in, and that night added another petition to her +prayers:-- + +"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 her +in here this afternoon, and you go and get a little fresh air; I am well +enough to be left alone now." + +Sir Edward's tone was impatient. He was getting to the convalescent +stage, and nurse found him a most trying patient. Nothing would please +him, and he wearied both himself and her with his perpetual complaints. + +"I thought she would only worry you, sir. She has been asking me every +day to come in and see you. I will fetch her at once." + +Milly shortly appeared in a clean pinafore, her little face radiant with +smiles. As she climbed up into the chair by the bedside and gently +stroked 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 be +lovely? 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 talk +most to Fritz. He understands, I'm sure, but he doesn't talk back. When +will 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 fir +plantation with Fritz, and we came upon a dear little rabbit caught in a +steel trap. Maxwell said a poacher had put it there, and he was very +angry. 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 will +think 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 if +he hurt his own prodigal son! And I expect Tommy will look very like a +poacher. He is sure to have ragged, dirty clothes. If I was----" Here +Milly paused, and gazed dreamily in front of her for some minutes in +silence. + +"Well?" inquired Sir Edward, looking at his little niece with interest +as she sat in her big chair, her elbows supported by her knees, and her +chin 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, not +just playing at it, as I do--I would rather be one of God's prodigal +sons, 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 door +in his face, and wouldn't let him in. And then there's Tommy, I can't +help s'posing that his father mightn't know him. But God can't make +mistakes. It must be lovely just to run right into God's arms, and hear +Him saying, _'Bring forth the best robe, and put it on him.'_ I should +love to have Him say that to me." + +Milly's little face glowed with pleasure at the thought, and she turned +her expressive eyes toward her uncle, who lay with knitted brows +listening to her. + +"And supposing if God would not receive you; supposing you had stayed +away so long, and had refused to listen to His voice when He called, and +then when you did want to come back, you felt it would be too late, what +would you do then?" + +Milly smiled. + +"Why, uncle, it would be never too late for God, would it? Maxwell said +he would be glad to see Tommy if he came back in the middle of the +night, and God would never turn one of his prodigal sons away. He loves +them so that he sent Jesus to die for them. He would never say He +couldn'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 clothes +for Tommy when he came home, and she took me upstairs into his little +room, and opened a long drawer, and told me to look inside. And there +were his best Sunday coat and waistcoat and trousers, and a silk +handkerchief with lavender in it, and a necktie with yellow and red +stripes, and she told me they had been there for nine years, and she +shakes them out and brushes them every Saturday. He didn't run away in +his best clothes, you know; he left them behind. So they're quite ready +for 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 a +ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet_.' Mrs. Maxwell has got a pair +of carpet slippers. I couldn't bear her not having any shoes ready for +him, so we looked about and found a pair that are just too small for +Maxwell, and I put them in the drawer my own self. Mrs. Maxwell says he +won't want a ring, and that she thinks the Bible people dressed +differently, and she said Tommy was a poor man's son: it wasn't as if he +was rich. But I don't know; I don't like to think we have no ring for +him. 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 time +enough to see about his ring, though I quite agree with his mother that +it would be most unfitting." + +"You have had the picture I gave you taken away, uncle," said Milly +presently, her quick eyes roving round the room. "Ah! you've had it hung +up on the wall. That's nice there. You can see it from your bed. Don't +you like looking at it? Doesn't it make you feel happy?" + +"I can't say it does," replied Sir Edward, glancing at the picture in +question. "Why ought it to make me feel happy?" + +"Oh, it's so nice to think he is just getting home after being away so +long. I wonder if he was a great time walking back. How long do you +think 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 brow +perplexedly, "because God is everywhere, isn't He? and I should have +thought He would have been close by them all the time. I was asking +nurse about it, and she said that God was near them, only they wouldn't +have anything to say to Him, and did bad things and shut the Lord Jesus +out of their heart, and let Satan in, and then God had to leave them +till 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 more +worthy to be called Thy son,_' then God just folds them in His arms and +forgives them and takes them back again; isn't that it?" + +"Look here, I think we have had enough of this subject. Talk about +something 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 you +think it will? It is quite smoky by the river; nurse says it is a fog. I +wondered 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. Good +gracious! you have been pretty bad, haven't you? Will you put me up for +a night or two? I expect you want a little cheerful company." + +Talking volubly, Major Lovell--for it was he--came forward and looked +with real concern on Sir Edward's altered face. + +"I'm very glad to see you," said the latter, heartily, holding out his +hand. "Come and stay for as long as you like. I'm sick to death of my +own society." + +"And is this the small party that arrived so unexpectedly when I was +here before?" inquired Major Lovell, looking down at Milly, who still +sat 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 he +remembered his horror of her advent; "she is taking charge of me this +afternoon." + +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 laughed +at 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 will +ring 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 like +Uncle Edward so much better when he is in bed. He looks so sad, and +speaks so softly. I wish I could sit with him every day." + +Major Lovell was a distant cousin of Sir Edward, and there existed a +warm friendship between them. The very brightness of his tone seemed to +do the invalid good, and Milly was quite delighted to find that her +uncle's visitor not only listened with interest to the account of her +favorite games and pastimes, but insisted upon joining her in them, and +the walls of the quiet old house rang again with merry mirth and +laughter such as they had not known for years. + +Upstairs in the sick room Major Lovell proved a wonderfully patient and +skillful nurse; but there were times when all his bright cheeriness +could not smooth the furrows in the invalid's brow, or take away the +fretfulness of tone. + +One morning Major Lovell came down from an interview with him with a +puzzled 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. Do +come with me." + +The major consented, but with a graver face than usual, and then +suddenly, very full of his own thoughts, said to the child,-- + +"I believe your uncle has something on his mind. It strikes me from +different 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, and +condemns everybody and everything all round them. They are most +objectionable people, little woman, so mind you never take up that line, +and the worst of it is that they're so satisfied with their own +goodness, 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 a +perplexed 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 very +well-bound Bibles." + +"I like singing hymns," asserted Milly, very emphatically; "everybody +sings hymns to God, don't they? I listen to the birds, sometimes, and +wish 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've +nearly 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 laughed +heartily as he spoke; then, with a twinkle in his eye, he went on +gravely,-- + +"I shall begin to think that you are pious if you don't take care. What +else 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't +understand a word of it." + +"Oh, I can, Major Lovell, it's beautiful. I love nurse to read and read +it to me. It tells about Jesus, you know, and I love Jesus, and He loves +me. 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 walking +by 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 been +wasting his life and not fulfilling the end for which he was created, in +fact, that he is a wicked sinner? For that has been the substance of +his talk with me this morning!" + +"Uncle Edward is a very good man," Milly replied, warmly. "I don't know +what 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 too +severely. Who has brought you up in this pious fashion?" + +"I'm not pious. You said they were horrid people. But I thought all the +grown-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 very +solemnly, raising her large dark eyes to the major's face,-- + +"I wonder if you're a prodigal son. Uncle Edward said there were some +rich ones. Have you run away from God, Major Lovell?" + +"Oh, come now," said the major, pinching her cheek good-naturedly; "I +didn't bargain for this when I came out with you. You must keep your +sermons for some one else. Come along to the stables with me, and I will +give you a ride." + +In an instant Milly's gravity disappeared, and a little time afterwards +she was laughing gleefully as she was being trotted round the +stable-yard on a large bay mare; but she said to her nurse when she came +in,-- + +"Major Lovell is very nice, but very funny, and I can't always +understand 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 his +company, as far as his bodily health was concerned. But at heart he was +very 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 yourself +and 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 I +shall 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 the +library, and, though still an invalid, was now making rapid progress +towards 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 came +to his face as he turned to see who the intruder was, but disappeared at +the sight of his little niece, rosy and breathless, in out-door +garments, 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 with +nurse. He heard it from Harris, and Harris heard it from Maxwell +himself. He said, 'My lad has come, tell little missy,' and Ford says +Harris said, 'He looked as if he could dance a jig for joy!' Oh, Uncle +Edward, may I go to them? Nurse says it's too late, but I do want to be +there. There's such a lot to be done now he has really come; and, Uncle +Edward, may they kill one of the cows in the farm that are being fatted +up? There's no calf, I'm afraid. May they? And may I go and tell them +so? 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 to +be going down there. It is getting quite dark, and as to one of my +cattle being disposed of in that way, I should not dream of allowing it +for one moment." + +Milly's eyes filled with tears, which she vainly tried to restrain. When +her uncle spoke to her in that tone she knew it was useless to +remonstrate. + +"They'll be having the feast without me," she said, with a little sob in +her 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 till +to-morrow," said Sir Edward in a softer tone. "And now be a sensible +little woman, and wait patiently till the time comes. You may be sure +his parents will like to have him to themselves the first night. Run +away now; I don't want to be disturbed." + +Poor little Milly crept out of the room feeling very crestfallen, and a +short 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, and +comforting herself by conjecturing how and where the meeting had taken +place. Her little mind was so full of the subject that it was long +before nurse could get her to sleep that night. Her last words before +she dropped off were,-- + +"I wonder who will do the music and dancing!" + +The next morning, the instant her breakfast was over, Milly obtained +nurse's permission to go down to the keeper's cottage under charge of +Sarah, the nursery maid. She was away the whole morning, and about one +o'clock a message came from Mrs. Maxwell to ask if she might stay to +dinner with them. So that it was not till nearly four in the afternoon +that she was brought up to the house, and then, flushed and excited, she +poured into her nurse's ear a long account of all that she had been +hearing and doing. + +"Now, come, my dear, you mustn't talk forever," was nurse's remonstrance +at last; "Sir Edward told me I could send you to him for a little when +you came in, and I must make you tidy first." + +It was quite dusk when Milly entered the library, but the bright +firelight showed her the figure of her uncle leaning back in his easy +chair, and indulging in a reverie. + +"Well," he said, looking round, "where have you been all day? Down at +Maxwell's, I suppose?" + +"Yes," said Milly, sedately; "and I'll tell you all about it, if you +like. May I make myself comfortable first?" + +And after a minute's hesitation she climbed into the heavy armchair on +the opposite side of the fireplace, making a pretty picture, as she +leaned her curly head back on the cushion and gazed earnestly into her +uncle'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 about +Tommy 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 to +the door. I was rather out of breath, you see, so she just smoothed me +down a little, and we kissed each other, and she cried a tiny bit, for I +felt her tears on my face. Then she took me in to see Tommy--Maxwell was +out, and Tommy was in the kitchen in one of Maxwell's great-coats, and +he was eating some bacon at the table for his breakfast. He got up when +he saw me--he's a nice big man, uncle, but I think his hair wants +cutting. We shook hands, and I told him I'd been expecting him ever so +long. He looked rather shy, but after he had quite finished his +breakfast, we had a very nice talk, and Mrs. Maxwell went bustling about +getting dinner ready. Tommy told me all about himself from the very +beginning, but I really quite forget some of it. He never kept any pigs +at all, but he kept some sheep instead--he went out to America and did +it--and then he was a railway man, and then he had a fever, and then he +got into bad company, and at last he came to London, and he was an +omnibus 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 he +wouldn'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 Sir +Edward, drily. + +"But, you see, he had to get very bad before he got good, because he was +a prodigal son. And he is sorry now. He said he never, never would have +come home until he was a good man, only one day he listened to a man +preaching a sermon in the middle of a street on a Sunday night, and he +felt 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 was +my 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 that +wonderful, when it was Tommy himself he spoke to! Well, Tommy said he +hadn't the face to go home till he was better, but Jack told him not to +wait a day longer, for his father and mother were waiting for him; but +the strange thing was that even then Tommy waited a whole two weeks +before 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 people +like that, waiting to make themselves better, instead of running home +just as they are. She says some of God's prodigal sons do that; do you +think many do, uncle?" + +"I daresay." + +"And Tommy said, though he wanted to see his home again dreadfully, he +had a great fight with himself to come at all. I didn't know prodigal +sons found it so difficult--the one in the Bible didn't, not when he +once made up his mind. Well, and so Tommy got out at the station--I'm +sorry he came by train, but Jack's uncle paid for his ticket--I would +rather 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 child +slowly, her head a little on one side, as she gazed thoughtfully into +the fire. "I always run or walk the whole way when I play the prodigal +son. I begin rather slowly, because it looks a long way off, but when I +come near I hurry. I'm wanting to be there when I see my home. The +prodigal son didn't have a train in the Bible, and I think Tommy might +have tried to do without it." + +The tone of reproach at the end of her speech was too much for her +uncle's gravity, and he laughed aloud. + +"I am afraid Tommy has sadly disappointed you. Did he take a cab from +the station?" + +"No, he didn't do that. He got home in the afternoon, and Maxwell was +cleaning his gun on the doorstep, when he saw a shadow, and he looked up +and there he was! Oh! I should like to have been there, but I'm sorry to +say Maxwell didn't fall on his neck and kiss him. I asked Tommy very +carefully about it, and he said he took hold of both his hands and +squeezed them tight, and he gave a shout, and Mrs. Maxwell was doing her +washing in the back yard, and she heard it, and she shook all over so +that she could hardly walk. She cried so much when she saw Tommy that +Maxwell had to pat her on the back and give her a glass of water; and +Tommy he sat down on the little seat inside the porch, and he +said--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 told +me--she just took his head between her two hands, and drew it to rest on +her shoulder, and then she bent down and kissed him all over and she +said:-- + +"'My boy, who should you come to when you are in disgrace and trouble +but your own father and mother?' + +"Tommy said, when he told me this, 'It fair broke my heart, miss,' and +then he gave a great sob, and I began to cry, and then Mrs. Maxwell came +up, 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, Tommy +turned his head away and pretended he didn't, but I saw he did." + +Milly paused for breath, and her eyes looked wistfully into the glowing +coals before her. + +"I didn't know prodigal sons were sad when they came back, but Tommy +seemed 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, and +something of the wistfulness in his little niece's face seemed to be +reflected 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 tire +you too much." + +Sir Edward laughed, but it was not a happy laugh. + +"Oh, finish your story by all means, little woman," he said, and Milly +continued:-- + +"We all cheered up when Mrs. Maxwell asked me if I'd like to stay to +dinner. 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 apple +sauce, and, uncle, it was lovely! Maxwell came in just in time, and he +looked so happy, and then we all sat down to dinner, but I asked Maxwell +to say first before we began: '_Let us eat, and be merry, for this my +son was dead, and is alive again, he was lost, and is found_.' He folded +his hands and said it like grace, and Mrs. Maxwell said 'Amen' when he +had finished, and wiped her eyes with her apron. I told them we must all +be very merry, but Tommy wasn't, I'm afraid. He kept looking first at +Mrs. Maxwell and then all round the kitchen, and then at Maxwell, and +then he sighed very big sighs. He said he couldn't believe he was at +home, but he told me, when I asked him quietly afterwards, that he was +really very happy, he only sighed and looked sad because he thought how +foolish he had been to stay away so long. I was very sorry for one thing +about him, uncle. He wasn't in his best clothes. They were all too small +for him, and the slippers wouldn't fit him, but Maxwell says he will buy +him some new ones to-morrow. And Tommy told me he wouldn't wear a ring +if he had one. He asked me why he should, so I told him about the +prodigal son in the Bible--he seemed to like hearing about it, and he +said he thought he was very like him. And then I asked about the music +and 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? I +didn'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 to +make you happier." + +"I was very happy. Oh, Uncle Edward, why won't all the prodigal sons go +home? I can't think why they like staying away. It is so lovely to think +of 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 friend +Tommy has," said Sir Edward gravely. + +"Haven't they? Well, God's prodigal sons couldn't have a nicer father. I +lie and think of them when I'm in bed sometimes, and I talk to God about +them. I was so glad when Jack went back to Him. I think it is worst of +all to stay a long way off from God, because He does love them so. I +wonder 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 angry +with him. I should like to see a prodigal son running back into God's +arms so much! But I suppose he does it very quietly, and only the angels +look down and see it!" + +"And what is this young scapegrace going to do now? Live on his father +and 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 was +going to look for work directly, and Maxwell is coming up to speak to +you 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 for +some 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 mind +to seek it! '_I will arise_'--ay, easy to say; it's a hard and bitter +thing for a backslider to retrace his steps. How the child stabs me +sometimes, and how little she knows my past!" + +He stopped and gazed at the picture. "And the Lord Himself used this as +an 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, who +brought his son up with him, and as the tall, broad-shouldered young +fellow stood before the squire, and in earnest, humble tones asked if he +could be given a chance of redeeming his character by being employed on +the estate, Sir Edward's severity relaxed, and after a long conversation +with him he promised he would give him a trial. + +He smiled grimly to himself as father and son left him with warm +expressions of gratitude. + +"So that is the child's hero! One whose example I might well follow. He +has had the courage at last to take the step from which I am still +shrinking. Why should I fear that my welcome home would be less full of +love and forgiveness than his?" + +It was Christmas eve, a wild and stormy day. The wind raged ceaselessly +round the old house, howling down the chimneys, and beating the branches +of the trees outside against the window panes. + +Milly had been very busy for some hours helping Ford to decorate the +hall and rooms with holly and evergreen, though Ford would every now +and then pause in his work, saying: + +"There, Miss Milly, I'm sure we're overdoing it. If the house was full +of company now, I would take a pride in it, but I don't believe the +master will notice whether it's done or not. It seems to me as he is +getting more and more shut up into hisself lately. Christmas is a dull +time with us." + +All was finished at last, and Milly went up to the nursery and stood at +the window, her bright brown eyes eagerly scanning and taking note of +every object out of doors. + +"It's a perfect hurricane," said nurse, presently, as she sat with her +work in a comfortable chair by the fire. "If we feel it inland like +this, what must it be at sea!" + +"I should like to be on the sea," said Milly. "I love the wind, but I +think it is getting a little bit too rough this afternoon. I'm rather +afraid it will hurt the little trees. Ford said if I went out I should +be blown away. Do you think, nurse, if the wind was very, very strong it +would ever be able to blow me up to heaven?" + +"I am afraid not," said nurse, gravely, "and I don't think we could +spare 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 think +I should like to be blown up to spend a day there, and then come back +again. Oh, nurse, Goliath is screaming and cracking so! I wish the wind +would knock him over, he is a horrid old tree. I always think he is +making faces at me when I run past him. Wouldn't it be nice to see him +blown down?" + +"You mustn't wish that," said nurse, getting up from her chair and +moving towards the door; "it's a dangerous thing for an old tree to be +blown down. Now I am going downstairs for a short time, so be a good +child 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 mewing +pitifully as she vainly tried to shelter herself from the violent blasts +by crouching close to a tree. + +In an instant, without thought of consequences, the child darted to the +nursery door and down the broad oak staircase. + +"Poor pussy, I will run and fetch her in. I expect she has run away +from the kitchen." + +Sir Edward was writing at his study table, when an unusually violent +gust 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, his +little niece, her golden brown curls flying as she battled with the +elements, 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 the +house swept by; there was an awful cracking, then a crash, and, to his +horror, a huge limb of the old oak came with an awful thud upon the very +spot where his little niece was standing. + +"My God, save her!" was his agonized cry, as he saw at the same moment +the little figure stagger and fall. Then, forgetting his weakness and +lack of physical strength, he dashed out of the house, and in another +instant was standing over her. + +His first feeling was one of intense thankfulness to find that the +branch in falling could have only slightly grazed her, as she was lying +on the ground untouched by it; but as he raised the motionless figure, +and noted a red mark on her forehead which was swelling rapidly, his +heart sank within him. It did not take him long to carry her into her +house, and he was met at the door by nurse, who wisely wasted no time in +useless lamentation, but set to work at once to restore animation to her +little charge. Her efforts were successful. Milly was only slightly +stunned, but it had been a miraculous escape, and had the blow been an +inch nearer her temple it might have been fatal. As it was, the child +was more frightened than hurt, and when a little time after her uncle +took her in his arms with unwonted tenderness, she clung to him and +burst into passionate sobs. + +"Take care of me, uncle! That nasty old Goliath! He tried to kill me, he +did! 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 still +kept her on his knee, and after nurse had left the room, and the child +rested 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 could +ill 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 would +have sent for me." + +When she came down to her uncle that evening she raised a very sad +little 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 the +poor little kitten, uncle, that I ran out to fetch." + +The brown eyes were swimming with tears, and Milly could not understand +the smile that came to Sir Edward's lips. + +"Only a kitten. Well, it was sad, I daresay, but there are plenty of +kittens about the place." + +"But, uncle, I've been thinking so much about this one. Ford says she +had run away from the stable. I expect she was going to be a prodigal +kitten, perhaps, and now she'll never run away any more. It's so sad +about her, and I think why it is sad is because nobody cares, not even +nurse. She said she would rather it had been the kitten than me. Poor +little 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 just +looked out of my window on the stairs before I came down. The wind has +stopped now, and the trees seemed to be crying and sobbing together. I'm +sure 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 been +just in time to save the dear little kitten." + +"We will not talk about her any more," said Sir Edward cheerfully. "Have +you 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 have +nice talks with him often. He says he is very happy, and this will be +the best Christmas he has spent in his life. Uncle, I want to ask you +something. I've been thinking of it a great deal to-day, only since I +was knocked down this afternoon I've had such a pain in my head I left +off thinking. But I've just remembered it now. You see it is really +Jesus Christ's birthday to-morrow, and I was thinking I've been getting +presents for every one in the house but Him. Nurse has been helping me +with some of them. I've made nurse a kettleholder, and cook a +needlebook, and I've bought a penknife for Ford, and a thimble for +Sarah, and some handkerchiefs for Maxwell and Mrs. Maxwell, and some +woolen gloves for Tommy. And I've nothing--no nothing for Him. If I only +knew 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 for +Him outside the nursery window on the ledge. And then when we are all in +bed, and it is very quiet, I expect He might send an angel down to +bring it up to Him. I think He might do that, because He knows how much +I 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 Him +a Christmas present is to give something to the poor. He would rather +have that. I will give you this to put in the plate to-morrow in +church." + +And Sir Edward put his hand in his pocket, and rolled a coin across the +table to his little niece. + +But Milly was not satisfied. + +"This is your present," she said, doubtfully. "What will you give Him +this Christmas besides? Is money the only thing you can give Him, +uncle?" + +Sir Edward pushed back his chair and rose from the table. His feelings +were almost getting beyond his control. With the one subject that was +now always foremost in his thoughts, the child's question rang again in +his ears, "Is money the only thing you can give Him, uncle?" And like a +flash of light came a reply: + +"No, I can give myself back to Him, my soul and body, that have now +been 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 to +nurse!" + +Milly came up to him, and as he stood with his back to the fire warming +his 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 this +afternoon. Would you mind very much giving me another?" + +Sir Edward looked down at the sweet little face raised so coaxingly to +his, and then took her up in his arms; but after he had given her the +desired kiss he said, with some effort,-- + +"I want you to do something to-night, little one. When you say your +prayers, ask that one of God's prodigal sons may be brought back this +Christmas 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 further +questions. She left him a moment later, and Sir Edward went to the +smoking-room and seated himself in a chair by the fire. The chimes of +the village church were ringing out merrily, and presently outside in +the avenue a little company of carol singers were singing the sweet old +Christmas truths that none can hear untouched. + +"_Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward +men_." + +A sense of the love of God seemed to surround his soul, and this verse +came into his mind as he mused:-- + +"_I have loved thee with an everlasting love, therefore with +loving-kindness have I drawn thee_." + +Could he not trace in the events of the last few months the hand of a +loving Father gently calling His wanderer home? Stricken down himself, +placed on a sick bed for reflection, brought to the edge of the valley +of 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 by +day, and that life having so lately been miraculously preserved from a +great danger--all this filled his heart with the realization of the +mercy and loving-kindness of God; and when again the past came up before +him, and the tempter drew near again with the old refrain, "You have +wandered too long, you have hardened your heart, and God has shut his +ear to your cry!" Sir Edward, by the help and power of the Divine +Spirit, 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 more +worthy to be called Thy son."_ + +They were sitting in the study the next afternoon, the child upon his +knee, 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 own +children. She says a friend of hers will take charge of you and take you +to her next month. I must talk to nurse about it." + +The little hands clutched hold of his coat sleeve tightly, but not a +word did Milly say. Sir Edward noted a slight quivering of the lips, and +a piteous gleam in the soft brown eyes. He waited in silence for a +moment, then said cheerfully,-- + +"Won't you be glad to have a lot of boys and girls to play with, instead +of staying here with a lonely old man?" + +Still the child said nothing; but suddenly down went the curly head upon +his 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 that +you hated children. I've always been thinking of it, but you have been +so kind to me that I thought perhaps he had made a little mistake. Miss +Kent didn't want me, and now you don't want me, and perhaps my aunt +won't want me when I get there. I wish God wanted me, but I'm afraid He +doesn't. Nurse says she thinks He wants me to work for Him when I grow +up. I think--I think I'm rather like the little kitten yesterday, that +nobody was sorry for when she died. You said there were plenty more +kittens, didn't you?" + +"I don't think there are plenty of small Millicents in this world," and +Sir Edward's voice was husky. "Now listen, little woman. I have been +thinking over the matter, and have decided this afternoon to keep you +with 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 of +smiles and tears like an April shower was lifted to his, the "confirmed +old bachelor" took to his heart the little maiden whose very existence +had so annoyed and distressed him only a few months before. + +"Uncle Edward," she said, a little time after, "do you know if that +prodigal son you told me about last night has come back to God?" + +Sir Edward was silent for a minute, then very gravely and solemnly he +said: + +"I think he has, little one. It has been a very happy Christmas Day to +him, 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 of +one of His lambs." + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Probable Sons, by Amy LeFeuvre + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PROBABLE SONS *** + +***** This file should be named 10777.txt or 10777.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/7/7/10777/ + +Produced by Joel Erickson, Michael Ciesielski, Garrett Alley and PG +Distributed Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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