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,