The doctor stooped and kissed the little troubled face. "Suppose I should do so?" he said, a smile parting his lips.
"I don't think I should mind much—at least, not very much now," she added.
"Why not?" asked the doctor. "Are you going to leave off loving me?" And a sharp pain shot through his heart as he uttered the light words.
For answer, she threw her arms about his neck, and kissed him. "O no, no!" she exclaimed. "I shall always love you."
"God bless you, my darling," murmured the doctor fervently. "You have been a blessing to me, Milly, and the thought of parting with you makes me very sad. But now tell me why you would not mind it so very much?" he added, when he had soothed her.
"I've been asking Jesus to help me learn my text better, 'Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth,'" said Milly.
"But you learned that long ago, Milly," said the doctor; "learned to practise it, too, in subduing your temper."
"Yes, but 'meek' means so much," said Milly. "We used to talk about it when Bob and Jack were out fishing."
"The widow, do you mean?" said the doctor.
Milly nodded. "Mother told me that 'meek' meant something like this—that we must not mind when other people are liked better than we are; that we ought to esteem others better than ourselves, and not feel grieved when they did the same."