Transcriber's notes: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed. New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the public domain. [Illustration: Bob ran to it, and saw that a child was securely lashed to it.] MILLY'S ERRAND; OR, SAVED TO SAVE. BY EMMA LESLIE [Illustration] PHILADELPHIA: ALFRED MARTIEN 1214 CHESTNUT STREET. 1873. ———————————————————————— Alfred Martien, PRINTER AND STEREOTYPER. CONTENTS. [Illustration] CHAPTER I. THE BROTHERS CHAPTER II. THE LITTLE WAIF CHAPTER III. THE COTTAGE HOME CHAPTER IV. THE WIDOW'S DEATH CHAPTER V. GOD'S MESSENGER CHAPTER VI. REST FOR THE WEARY CHAPTER VII. THE DOCTOR'S KINDNESS CHAPTER VIII. THE DOCTOR'S STORY CHAPTER IX. MAJOR FERRERS CHAPTER X. "BLESSED ARE THE MEEK." CHAPTER XI. CONCLUSION MILLY'S ERRAND; OR, Saved to Save. [Illustration] CHAPTER I. THE BROTHERS. "WE shall have stormy weather, I am thinking, before long." The speaker was an old sailor, and as he spoke, he raised his spy-glass again to take another look at the distant horizon. "It's coming, lads," he said, addressing two stout grown boys, who had just come up with a donkey-cart to gather the sea-weed that lay in heaps on the sandy shore. The elder of the two looked out upon the sea as the old man spoke. "There's a ship in the offing over there, ain't there?" he said, pointing to a dim speck in the distance. "Yes; I, can't make much of her yet, but she'd better tack for the harbor pretty soon, or she won't get in, and once on these rocks here, it'll be all up with her." It was a dangerous part of the coast; and as the old man resumed his professional walk, he cast another anxious glance towards the vessel, and then at the signs of the weather, which every moment became more threatening. The boys went on gathering the sea-weed, working most industriously. Presently the younger one stopped to rest on his hooked stick for a minute or two. "What heaps of money that old doctor must have," he said, looking at the cart, and thinking of what had been promised them for a dozen loads of the sea-weed. "He ain't old, I tell you," said his brother, likewise stopping to rest for a minute or two, for it was hard work dragging up the heaps of heavy, wet sea-weed. "Mother says he ain't more 'n thirty, or forty at the most." "Well, he looks old, anyway; his hair's gray, and his face is always puckered up." "Yes, and nobody can tell what's the matter with him, and nobody dares to go near him."