Probable Sons | Page 3

go."
"Say, 'God bless you!'" persisted the little one, and it was not till her
uncle muttered the desired words that she relinquished her hold and
followed the butler sedately out of the room.
CHAPTER II.
DAVID AND GOLIATH.
Sir Edward Wentworth was, as he expressed it, a "confirmed bachelor,"
and though during the autumn months he was quite willing to fill his
house with his London friends, he was better pleased to live the greater
part of the year in seclusion, occupying himself with looking after his
estate and writing articles for several of the leading reviews of the day.
The advent of his small niece was indeed a great trial to him, but, with
his characteristic thoroughness, he determined that he would make the
necessary arrangements for her comfort. Accordingly he had a long

interview with her nurse the following morning. It proved to be
satisfactory. The nurse was a staid, elderly woman, who assured him
she was accustomed to the sole charge of the child, and would keep her
entirely under her own control.
"I expect you would like her to be sent down to you in the evening--at
dessert, perhaps, sir?" she inquired.
Sir Edward pulled the ends of his moustache dubiously. "Is it necessary?
I thought children ought to be in bed at that time."
"Of course it shall be as you like, sir. You do not dine so late as some
do. I thought you would expect to see her once in the day."
After a little hesitation Sir Edward gave his permission; and when he
found that Milly neither screamed nor snatched for the fruit on the table,
and did not herself engross the whole conversation, he became quite
reconciled to the little white figure stealing in and occupying the chair
that was always placed at his left-hand side for her.
Beyond this he saw very little of her while his guests were with him;
but afterwards, when they had all left him, and he relapsed into his
ordinary life, he was constantly coming across her. Sometimes he
would find her in the stables, her arms round the stable cat, and the
grooms holding a voluble conversation with her, or among the cows at
the bottom of the paddock, or feeding the pigs and fowls in the poultry
yard. Generally she was attended by Fritz, a beautiful collie, who had,
with the fickleness of his nature, transferred his affection from his
master to her, and though uncertain in temper towards most, was never
anything but amiable when with the little girl.
Her uncle's form approaching was quite a sufficient hint to her to make
herself scarce. She would generally anticipate the usual formula: "Now
run away child, to nurse," by singing out cheerfully: "I am just off,
uncle," and by the time he had reached the spot where she was standing
the little figure would be running off in the distance, Fritz close at her
heels.

One afternoon Sir Edward was returning from a stroll up the avenue
when he saw the child at play among the trees, and for a moment he
paused and watched her. She appeared to be very busy with a doll
wrapped in a fur rug which she carefully deposited at the foot of the
tree; then for some minutes she and Fritz seemed to be having a kind of
a game of hide and seek with one another, until she pushed him into a
bush and commanded him to stay there. Suddenly dog and child darted
at each other, and then, to Sir Edward's amazement, he saw his little
niece seize Fritz by the throat and bring him to the ground. When both
were rolling over one another, and Fritz's short, sharp barks became
rather indignant in tone, as he vainly tried to escape from the little
hands so tightly round him, Sir Edward thought it high time to
interfere.
"Millicent," he called out sharply, "come to me at once; what are you
doing?"
In an instant Milly was upon her feet, and lifting a hot flushed little
face to his, she placed herself in her favorite attitude when in his
presence; her hands clasped behind her back, and feet closely planted
together.
"Don't you know Fritz might bite if you are so rough with him? Were
you trying to choke him?" demanded her uncle.
"Yes," she responded, breathless from her late exertions, "I was trying
to kill him! He's a bear, and that's my lamb, and I am David; that's all."
A child's games were beyond Sir Edward's comprehension. He looked
down upon her with a knitted brow.
She continued--
"You see, he has to do for both, a bear and a lion, for they both came,
and they both tried to get the lamb. Nurse was the