"I should have taught him a lesson, that I should!"

"But, Maxwell, you mustn't, really! Only think, he might be--Tommy
coming home! You couldn't see who it was, could you? It would be
dreadful if you chased away Tommy."

"No fear o' that," Maxwell said in a quieter tone. "My own son wouldn't
skulk along like that. He was a ragged vagabond, that's what he was."

"Prodigal sons are nearly always ragged. He might have been some one's
prodigal son, Maxwell."

"He was just a poacher, my dear, and I think I know the chap. He's
staying at the Blue Dragon, and has been a-watching this place for some
time."

"Perhaps he is one of God's prodigal sons," said Milly softly, "like
Jack was."

To this Maxwell made no reply, but when he set her down in the
brightly-lighted hall a little later, he said,--

"Don't you fret about our Tommy. I should know him fast enough. He
wouldn't run from his own father."

And Milly went in, and that night added another petition to her
prayers:--

"And please God, if the man who ran away from Maxwell is a prodigal son,