But the child cried on in spite of all he could do or say to allay her grief, while the housekeeper down stairs was thinking that nothing better could have happened to forward her plans for getting her out of the house.
It seemed that the doctor's plan of locking himself up from everybody would have to be postponed for that day at least, for he came down not long after with Milly in his arms. She had sobbed herself to sleep, and her little troubled face gave the doctor more anxiety just now than his own life-long griefs.
"What is it makes you so unhappy?" he said when she awoke, and he saw the same troubled look settle on her face more deeply than ever.
She looked up at him.
"Don't you know?" she said, her lips quivering.
He shook his head.
"I've been a naughty girl, very naughty; I got angry."
"Is that all? I thought you had been hurt," said the doctor, in some surprise.
She looked down at her arms. "It didn't hurt much," she said, "but it made me feel so bad." And the little fist clenched again as she spoke.
At this moment the housekeeper entered the room for something, and Dr. Mansfield was about to ask her what she had done to the child.