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Probable Sons by Amy LeFeuvre
page 32 of 84 (38%)
blinking at each other sometimes till I get quite sleepy. I watch the
birds going to bed too. There is so much I can see from this window."

"Well, run along to the nursery now; you have been here long enough."

Milly jumped down from her seat obediently; then catching hold of her
uncle's hand as he was moving away, she said,--

"Just one thing more I want to show you, uncle. I can see the high-road
for such a long way over there, and when it is not quite so dark I sit
and watch for Tommy--that's Maxwell's probable son, you know. I should
be so glad if I were to see him coming along one day with his head
hanging down, and all ragged and torn. He is sure to come some day--God
will bring him--and if I see him coming first, I shall run off quick to
Maxwell and tell him, and then he will run out to meet him. Won't it be
lovely?"

And with shining eyes Milly shook back her brown curls and looked up
into her uncle's face for sympathy. He patted her head, the nearest
approach to a caress that he ever gave her, and left her without saying
a word.

Another day, later still, he came upon her at the staircase window. He
was dining out that night, and was just leaving the house, but stopped
as he noticed his little niece earnestly waving her handkerchief up at
the window.

"What are you doing now?" he inquired as he passed down the stairs.
Milly turned round, her little face flushed, and eyes looking very sweet
and serious.
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