farmer returning from market in his cart. He found Sir
Edward unconscious, and the horse still feebly struggling to extricate
himself from under the trap, which was badly broken.

It was about seven o'clock in the evening when Sir Edward was brought
home, and he had three ribs broken, besides some very severe injuries to
his head. The doctor wished to telegraph for a nurse from London, but
Sir Edward had a horror of them, and having recovered consciousness
shook his head vehemently when it was suggested; and so it ended in
Milly's nurse volunteering to assist his valet in nursing him. Poor
little Milly wandered about the house with Fritz at her heels in a very
woe-begone fashion. What with the anxiety in her heart lest her uncle
should die, and the absence of her nurse--who could spare little time
now to look after her--she felt most forlorn, and her greatest comfort
was to go down to the keeper's cottage and talk to Mrs. Maxwell.

Sir Edward was soon out of danger, but he was a long time recovering,
and required most careful nursing. Milly begged and entreated to go in
and see him, but this was not allowed. At last permission was given by
the doctor for a very short visit, and the child stole in on tip-toe,
but insisted upon taking a large brown paper parcel in with her, the
contents of which were unknown to all except herself.

Softly she crept up to the bed and looked at her uncle's bandaged head
and worn face with the greatest awe.

He put out his hand, which she took in hers, and then she said, her
brown eyes fixed wistfully on his face,--

"I've wanted to see you, Uncle Edward, for so long. I wish you would let
me come in and help to nurse you."

Sir Edward smiled, then shook his head.

"I've been asking God to make you better so many times," she continued,
softly stroking his hand as she spoke, "and He is going to make you live
again; now isn't He? I wasn't quite sure whether you mightn't like to
die best, but I didn't want you to. Nurse says I mustn't stay a moment,
but I've brought you a present. Maxwell went to the town and got it for
me with the money Jack sent back to me. May I open it for you?"

Reading assent in his eyes, Milly eagerly removed her brown paper, and
then lifted on to the bed with difficulty a picture of the Prodigal Son,
in a plain oak frame.

"Isn't it a lovely one, Uncle Edward? There's the prodigal son--I've
learned to say it properly now--all in rags hurrying along the road, an