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.”