Probable Sons Part 5

Milly applied her handkerchief vigorously to her eyes, and looking up with quivering lips, she said,--

"I didn't mean to be naughty, uncle. Nurse hasn't been angry with me like she is now for _years_, and I'm _so_ unhappy!"

The pitiful tone and look touched Sir Edward's heart, and, on the impulse of the moment, he did what he had never as yet attempted--lifted her upon his knee, and told her to proceed with her story; and Milly, after a final struggle with her tears, got the better of them, and was able to give him a pretty clear account of what had happened.

"I had bought your pens and blotting-paper, uncle, and was going to a picture-shop to spend the rest of my money when nurse had finished at the grocer's. I was standing outside, when I saw a man coming along. He limped, and his hat was broken in, and he was so ragged that I thought he must be a probable son, and then I thought he might be Tommy going home, and when I thought that, I couldn't think of nothing else, and I forgot all about nurse, and I forgot she told me to stay there, and I ran after him as hard as I could. I caught him up, and he looked very astonished when I asked him was his name Tommy. He said, 'No,' and he laughed at me, and then I asked him was he a probable son, because he looked like one. He said he didn't know what kind of person that was.

And then I had to explain it to him. He told me he had never had a home to run away from, so that wouldn't do; but he really looked just like the man I've seen in Mr. Maxwell's picture, and I told him so, and then I found out what he was, and I was so sorry, and yet I was so glad."

Milly paused, and her large, expressive eyes shone as she turned them up to her uncle's face, and her voice dropped almost to a whisper as she said,--

"I found out he was one of G.o.d's probable sons. When I asked him if he had run away from G.o.d, he said yes, he supposed he had done that, so of course he was ragged and unhappy."

"That is not always the case," put in Sir Edward, half touched, half amused. "Sometimes it is very rich people who run away from G.o.d, and they get richer when they are away from Him."

Milly looked puzzled.

"But they can't be happy, uncle. Oh, they never can be!"

"Perhaps not."

"Well, I talked to this poor man till we had walked quite away from the shops, and then he turned down a lane, and I went with him; and we were both rather tired, so we sat down together on some doorsteps inside an archway, and he told me all about himself. His name is Jack, and his father and mother are dead, like mine; and he got drunk one night, and fell down and broke his arm, and then he went to a hospital; and when he got well and went back to his work again, his master couldn't take him, because some one else was in his place, and he couldn't get any work. I asked him were there no pigs to keep, but he said there weren't any in London, and he was there, and for six months, he told me, he had been 'on the tramp'; that's what he called it. I asked him what that meant, and he said just walking on every day to no place particular. And he said something about going to the bad, which I couldn't quite understand. Then I asked him why he didn't go back to G.o.d, and he said he had been a good boy once, when he went to Sunday-school, and he had a very good uncle who kept a baker's shop in London, and who wanted him to go and live with him, but he wouldn't, because he was too good for him.

And I asked him why he wouldn't go to him now, and he said he couldn't tramp back again to London, it was too far, and he had no money. So then I opened my purse, and we counted over my money together, and he said it was just enough to take him back, if I would lend it to him. So, of course, I did, and he asked me my name and where I lived, and I told him."

"The scoundrel!" muttered Sir Edward.

Milly paused. "Why are you looking so angry, uncle? I was so glad to give him the money; and then we talked a good deal, and I begged him not to be one of G.o.d's probable sons any more. Fancy! He wouldn't believe G.o.d loved him, and he wouldn't believe that G.o.d wanted him back! I told him I should be quite frightened to get away from G.o.d, and he--well, he almost didn't seem to care; he said no one cared what came of him, whether he was hung, dead, or not; and I told him no one cared for me much except nurse, but G.o.d did. I feel He loves me, and I know He loves Jack just the same; doesn't He, uncle?"

"And when did nurse find you?" inquired Sir Edward, evading this question.

Milly's little face, which had been gradually brightening with the interest of her story, now clouded over again, and she hung her head.

"She was fearful angry with me. She was quite hot and red, and she s.n.a.t.c.hed me away, and said that Jack was a thief and--and a vagbag, or something like that. She scolded me all the way home, and I don't think she will ever love me again. She said it was just a chance she found me, and if she hadn't come along that lane I should have been lost forever!

And she was angry most of all because I shook hands with Jack and wished him good-bye. I don't think nurse would run and meet a probable son if she had one; she thinks all ragged people are wicked. But I'm--I'm dreadful sorry I was disobedient. Do you think I have been very naughty, Uncle Edward?"

Sir Edward twisted the ends of his moustache slowly. "I think you were naughty to run after a strange man like that, and I quite understand nurse's displeasure. You made her exceedingly anxious."

"And is G.o.d very angry with me?"

"G.o.d is not pleased with disobedient children."

"May I kneel down and ask him to forgive me now?"

Sir Edward hesitated. "I think you had better go to the nursery and do it there."

"I don't want to see nurse till I have done it. May I? Will you ask G.o.d to forgive me too?"

"Your prayer will be quite sufficient."

Milly slipped off his knee, and then, kneeling down with folded hands and closed eyes, she said softly,--

"Please G.o.d, will you forgive me! I'm so sorry I disobeyed nurse and ran away. And please take care of Jack, and bring him back to you, for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen."

"Now run along to nurse, and don't cry any more," said Sir Edward, as he rose from his seat.

Milly looked back wistfully as she reached the door.

"Do you think nurse is still angry?"

"Tell nurse from me that she is not to scold you any more. The loss of your money ought to be a lesson to you."

"But I didn't lose it, uncle. I lent it to Jack. He wouldn't let me give it to him; he said he would send it back to me in a letter."

Sir Edward laughed unbelievingly, and Milly trotted upstairs to be received with open arms by nurse at the nursery door.

"There! never mind, my dear. I have been very angry with you, but you'll never do such a thing again. Come and have your tea. I've had a cup already, and feel wonderful better. Now, don't cry any more; bless your little heart, I can't bear to see you in tears."

With that nurse took her up in her arms; and poor tired little Milly whispered, as she clung to her,--

"I was afraid you would never love me again. I've told G.o.d I'm sorry; do you quite forgive me?"

"Quite, my lamb," was the reply; "and as to loving you, I shouldn't give over doing that if you were twice as troublesome."

CHAPTER VI.

A PROMISE KEPT.

About a fortnight later Sir Edward, who always opened the post-bag himself, found there a letter addressed to his little niece, and sent a message to the nursery to tell her to come down to him. She arrived very surprised at the summons, as Sir Edward always wished to be left undisturbed at his breakfast, but when she saw the letters on the table she cried out joyously,--

"Good morning, Uncle Edward. I know there's a letter from Jack for me, isn't there? I've been waiting for it every day."

"I think there may be, judging from the writing on the envelope. Come here and open it."

Milly took the letter, and her little fingers fairly trembled with excitement as she opened it, saying softly to herself as she did so,--

"I knew he would keep his promise. I knew he wasn't a thief."

A money order dropped out.

"Well," said Sir Edward, "you were right, little woman, and we were wrong. Would you like me to read it for you?"

"Yes, please, uncle."

The letter read as follows:--

"I am as good as my word, little Miss, in sending you back what you lent me with many grateful thanks for the loan, as I reached London safe and have never touched a drop of drink since I seen you, and am in work at my uncle's, which is good of him to take me, and am getting good wages and goes to church again. And my uncle has a chum which is a street preacher, and comes along of plenty of fellows like I was, and I told him of your young fellow, Tommy Maxwell, and he will keep a look-out for him. Tell the woman that fetched you sharp away that I'll hold up my head with her yet, and every night I asks G.o.d to bless you, for I hopes I am getting on the right track again, and thank you kindly for your talk, which is sticking to me.