gaze never left the pulpit.

"Uncle Edward," she said, when their steps at length turned homewards,
"do you know, I heard all the sermon, and understood it pretty well
except the long words. Wasn't it nice to hear about the probable son?"

"'Prodigal,' you mean. Cannot you pronounce your words properly?"

Sir Edward's tone was irritable. He had not been feeling very
comfortable under the good vicar's words.

"I can't say that; I always forget it. Nurse says one long word is as
good as another sometimes. Uncle, what did the clergyman mean by people
running away from God? No one does, do they?"

"A great many do," was the dry response.

"But how can they? Because God is everywhere. No one can't get away
from God, and why do they want to? Because God loves them so."

"Why did the prodigal want to get away?"

Milly considered.

"I s'pose he wanted to have some a--aventures, don't you call them? I
play at that, you know. All sorts of things happen to me before I sit
down at the beech tree, but--but it's so different with God. Why, I
should be fearful unhappy if I got away from Him. I couldn't, could I,
uncle? Who would take care of me and love me when I'm asleep? And who
would listen to my prayers? Why, Uncle Edward, I think I should die of