“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.