“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.”