Milly's little tongue was only too ready to talk of him.

"He helped nurse and me to get some holly in the wood yesterday. I have
nice talks with him often. He says he is very happy, and this will be
the best Christmas he has spent in his life. Uncle, I want to ask you
something. I've been thinking of it a great deal to-day, only since I
was knocked down this afternoon I've had such a pain in my head I left
off thinking. But I've just remembered it now. You see it is really
Jesus Christ's birthday to-morrow, and I was thinking I've been getting
presents for every one in the house but Him. Nurse has been helping me
with some of them. I've made nurse a kettleholder, and cook a
needlebook, and I've bought a penknife for Ford, and a thimble for
Sarah, and some handkerchiefs for Maxwell and Mrs. Maxwell, and some
woolen gloves for Tommy. And I've nothing--no nothing for Him. If I only
knew something He would like."

She paused, and a soft wistfulness came into her eyes.

"I was thinking," she went on, "that perhaps I could put my present for
Him outside the nursery window on the ledge. And then when we are all in
bed, and it is very quiet, I expect He might send an angel down to
bring it up to Him. I think He might do that, because He knows how much
I want to give Him something. But then I don't know what to give Him.
Could you tell me, uncle?"

"I think," said Sir Edward, gravely, "the only way you can give Him
a Christmas present is to give something to the poor. He would rather
have that. I will give you this to put in the plate to-morrow in
church."