And when later on nurse came, with an anxious face, to fetch her little charge in from the cold, wet grass, she had not the heart to scold her, for the tear-stained face was raised so pitifully to hers with the words,-- "Oh, nurse, dear, carry me in your arms. No one loves me here. I've been telling God all about it. He's the only One that isn't angry." That evening, at the accustomed time, Milly stole quietly into the dining-room, wondering in her little heart whether her uncle was still angry with her. As she climbed into her chair, now placed on the opposite side of the large table, she eyed him doubtfully through her long eyelashes; then gathering courage from the immovable expression of his face, she said in her most cheerful tone,-- "It's a very fine night, uncle." "Is it?" responded Sir Edward, who was accustomed by this time to some such remark when his little niece wanted to attract his notice. Then feeling really ashamed of his outburst a few hours before, he said, by way of excusing himself,--"Look here, Millicent, you made me exceedingly angry by your piece of mischief this afternoon. That statue can never be replaced, and you have destroyed one of my most valuable possessions. Let it be a warning for the future. If ever you break anything again, I shall punish you most severely. Do you understand?" "Yes, uncle," she answered, looking up earnestly. "'You will punish me _most_ severely.' I will remember. I have been wondering why I broke it, when I didn't mean to do it. Nurse says it was a most 'unfortunate accident.' I asked her what an accident was. She says it's a thing that happens when you don't expect it--a surprise, she called it. I'm sure it was a dreadful surprise to me, and to Fritz, too; but I'll never play ball in the hall again, _never_!" A week later, and Sir Edward was in his study, absorbed in his books and papers, when there was a knock at his door, and, to his astonishment, his little niece walked in. This was so against all rules and regulations that his voice was very stern as he said,-- "What is the meaning of this intrusion, Millicent? You know you are never allowed to disturb me when here." Milly did not answer for a moment. She walked up to her uncle, her small lips tightly closed, and then, standing in front of him with clasped hands, she said,-- "I've come to tell you some dreadful news." Sir Edward pushed aside his papers, adjusted his glasses, and saw from the pallor of the child's face and the scared expression in her eyes, that it was no light matter that had made her venture into his presence uncalled for. "It's a dreadful surprise again," Milly continued, "but I told nurse I must tell you at once. I--I felt so bad here," and her little hand was laid pathetically on her chest. "Well, what is it? Out with it, child! You are wasting my time," said her uncle impatiently. "I have--I have broken something else." There was silence. Then Sir Edward asked drily,-- "And what is it now?"