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.