u this evening, that would punish me; don't you think so?"

"Very well, that will do. Now run away, and let this be your last
breakage. I cannot be worried with your punishments."

"I will try to be very good, nurse, always," said Milly while being
tucked up in bed that night, "because Uncle Edward is very puzzled when
he has to punish me. He doesn't know what to do. He looked quite unhappy
and said it worried him."

And Sir Edward as he finished his dinner in silence and solitude
muttered to himself,--

"That child is certainly a great nuisance at times, but, upon my word, I
quite miss her this evening. Children after all are original, if they
are nothing else, and she is one of the most original that I have ever
met."

It was Sunday morning, and Sir Edward was just starting for church. As
he stood over the blazing fire in the hall buttoning a glove, a little
voice came to him from the staircase:

"Uncle Edward, may I come down and speak to you?"

Permission being given, Milly danced down the stairs, and then, slipping
her little hand into her uncle's, she lifted a coaxing face to his.

"Will you take me to church with you? Nurse thinks I'm almost big enough
now, and I have been to church in the afternoon sometimes."

Sir Edward hesitated. "If you come, you will fidget, I expect. I cannot
stand that."

"I will sit as still as a mouse. I won't fidget."

"If you behave badly I shall never take you again. Yes, you may come. Be
quick and get ready."

A few moments after, Sir Edward and his little niece were walking down
the avenue, she clasping a large Bible under her arm, and trying in vain
to match her steps with his.

The squire's pew was one of the old-fashioned high ones, and Milly's
head did not reach the top of it. Very quiet and silent she was during
the service, and very particular to follow her uncle's example in every
respect, though she nearly upset his gravity at the outset by taking off
her hat in imitation of him and covering her face with it. But when the
sermon commenced her large dark eyes were riveted on the clergyman as he
gave out the text so well known to her:--

"_I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father, I
have sinned against Heaven, and before thee, and am no more worthy to be
called thy son_"; and though the sermon was half an hour in length, her
gaze never left the pulpit.

"Uncle Edward," she said, when their steps at length turned homewards,
"do you kno