"Nurse says it's so cold to-day that she thinks it will snow. Do you think it will? It is quite smoky by the river; nurse says it is a fog. I wondered where it all came from. Do you think it might be God's breath, uncle?"
As she was chatting on, suddenly there came a sharp knock at the door, and a visitor appeared.
"Thought I'd look you up, for I heard you were on the sick list. Good gracious! you have been pretty bad, haven't you? Will you put me up for a night or two? I expect you want a little cheerful company."
Talking volubly, Major Lovell—for it was he—came forward and looked with real concern on Sir Edward's altered face.
"I'm very glad to see you," said the latter, heartily, holding out his hand. "Come and stay for as long as you like. I'm sick to death of my own society."
"And is this the small party that arrived so unexpectedly when I was here before?" inquired Major Lovell, looking down at Milly, who still sat in the big chair, regarding the new-comer with her large brown eyes.
"Yes," said Sir Edward, a faint smile hovering about his lips as he remembered his horror of her advent; "she is taking charge of me this afternoon."
Milly held out her little hand with all the grace of a duchess.
"I remember you," she said; "you were one of the gentlemen that laughed at me."
"I don't think I could have been guilty of such rudeness, surely."