Whether it was that she was unused to this mode of punishment, and felt the indignity of it, or whether the housekeeper's repeated threats that she could never see the doctor any more, appealed to her fear, and by this to her passion, certain it is that she burst into a such a fury of anger, that her persecutor set her free in alarm, and Milly ran shrieking up to the doctor's door, which was at once opened to her, and she ran sobbing into his arms. "Milly, Milly, what is the matter?" he asked, kissing and trying to comfort her. But the child cried on in spite of all he could do or say to allay her grief, while the housekeeper down stairs was thinking that nothing better could have happened to forward her plans for getting her out of the house. It seemed that the doctor's plan of locking himself up from everybody would have to be postponed for that day at least, for he came down not long after with Milly in his arms. She had sobbed herself to sleep, and her little troubled face gave the doctor more anxiety just now than his own life-long griefs. "What is it makes you so unhappy?" he said when she awoke, and he saw the same troubled look settle on her face more deeply than ever. She looked up at him. "Don't you know?" she said, her lips quivering. He shook his head. "I've been a naughty girl, very naughty; I got angry." "Is that all? I thought you had been hurt," said the doctor, in some surprise. She looked down at her arms. "It didn't hurt much," she said, "but it made me feel so bad." And the little fist clenched again as she spoke. At this moment the housekeeper entered the room for something, and Dr. Mansfield was about to ask her what she had done to the child. But before he could speak, Milly slipped off his knee and hurried around to where the housekeeper stood. The tears were in her eyes, and her lips quivered as she said, "Please forgive me for going into a passion, will you? I'm very, very sorry, and, and—" But here her voice broke down, and bursting into tears, she ran back to the doctor's arms. He was scarcely less moved than the child herself. "What made you do that, Milly?" he said, when she had somewhat recovered herself. "Why, I declare you are almost as passionate as—as I am." The child looked up at him with a curious, inquiring gaze. "Do you get angry?" she said, in a tone of wonder. He turned his head away. "Don't, don't ask me, child," he said impatiently. "I can't help it—I can't help it." "No, I know; it's Jesus that helps us; ain't it?" said the little girl simply. "And I've been forgetting all about Him since I've been here. Will you teach me again? 'Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.' I want to be meek and gentle, like Jesus, but it is so hard, and I do forget so very often." The doctor shook his head, simply because he did not know what to say, but listened with interest to the child's talk.