At this Tiza began to cry again more piteously than ever.  It seemed so dreary and terrible to her to be shut out from home without Becky.  But Aunt Emma sat down on the grass beside her, and lifted her up and talked to her; with anybody else Tiza would have kicked and struggled, for she was a curious, passionate child, and her grief was always wild and angry, but nobody could struggle with Aunt Emma, and at last she let herself be comforted a little by the tender voice and soft caressing hand.  She stopped crying, and then they all took her up to the Wheelers’s cottage, where Mrs. Wheeler, a kind motherly body, took her in, and promised that she should know everything there was to be known about Becky.

“Aunt Emma,” said Milly, presently, when they were all sitting in the conservatory which ran round the house, waiting for Mr. Norton to bring them news from the farm, “how did Becky tumble under the cart?”

“She was lifting up some hay, I think, which had fallen off, and one of the men was stooping down to take it on his fork, and then she must have slipped and fallen right under the cart, just as John Backhouse told the horse to go on.”

“Oh, if the wheel had gone over!” said Milly, shuddering.  “Isn’t it a sad birthday, Aunt Emma, and we were so happy a little while ago?  And then I can’t understand.  I don’t know why it happens like this.”

“Like what, Milly?”

“Why, Aunt Emma, always in stories, you know, it’s the bad people get hurt and die.  And now it’s poor little Becky that’s hurt.  And she’s such a dear little girl, and helps her mother so.  I don’t think she ought to have been hurt.”

“We don’t know anything about ‘oughts,’ Milly, darling, you and I. God knows, we trust, and that helps many people who love God to be patient when they are in trouble or pain.  But think if it had been poor mischievous little Tiza who had been hurt, how she would have fretted.  And now very likely Becky will bear it beautifully, and so, without knowing it, she will be teaching Tiza to be patient, and it will do Tiza good to have to help Becky and take care of her for a bit, instead of letting Becky always look after her and get her out of scrapes.”

“Oh, and Aunt Emma, can’t we all take care of Becky?  What can Olly and I do?” said Milly, imploringly.

“I can go and sing all my songs to Becky,” said Olly, looking up brightly.

“By-and-by, perhaps,” said Aunt Emma, smiling and patting his head.  “But hark! isn’t that father’s step?”

It had grown so dark that they could hardly see who it was opening the gate.

“Oh yes, it is,” cried Milly.  “It’s father and mother.”  Away they ran to meet them, and Mrs. Norton took Milly’s little pale face in both her hands and kissed it.

“She’s not very badly hurt, darling.  The doctor says she must lie quite quiet for two or three weeks, and then he hopes she’ll be all right.  The wheel gave her a squeeze, which jarred her poor little back and head very much, but it didn’t break anything, and if she lies very quite the doctor thinks she’ll get quite well again.”  “Oh mother! and does Tiza know?”