"Well?" inquired Sir Edward, looking at his little niece with interest
as she sat in her big chair, her elbows supported by her knees, and her
chin resting in her hands, "are you going into a brown study?"

"I was just thinking if I was a prodigal son--I mean a real one, not
just playing at it, as I do--I would rather be one of God's prodigal
sons, than belonging to any one else."

"Why?"

"Because I would know for certain He would meet me and take me back.
Nurse told me she had a cousin who ran away and made himself a soldier,
and when he was sorry and wanted to come home, his father shut the door
in his face, and wouldn't let him in. And then there's Tommy, I can't
help s'posing that his father mightn't know him. But God can't make
mistakes. It must be lovely just to run right into God's arms, and hear
Him saying, _'Bring forth the best robe, and put it on him.'_ I should
love to have Him say that to me."

Milly's little face glowed with pleasure at the thought, and she turned
her expressive eyes toward her uncle, who lay with knitted brows
listening to her.

"And supposing if God would not receive you; supposing you had stayed
away so long, and had refused to listen to His voice when He called, and
then when you did want to come back, you felt it would be too late, what
would you do then?"

Milly smiled.