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!”