“In a few days, perhaps. But she is not to see anybody but Mrs. Backhouse for a little while.”
“Oh dear!” sighed Milly, while the tears came into her eyes again. “We shall be going away so soon, and we can’t say good-bye. Isn’t it sad, mother, just happening last thing? and we’ve been so happy all the time.”
“Yes, Milly,” said Mr. Norton, lifting her on to his knee. “This is the first really sad thing that ever happened to you in your little life I think. Mother, and I, and Aunt Emma, tell you stories about sad things, but that’s very different, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Milly, thinking. “Father, are there as many sad things really as there are in stories?—you know what I mean.”
“There are a great many sad things and sad people in the world, Milly. We don’t have monsters plaguing us like King Hrothgar, but every day there is trouble and grief going on somewhere, and we happy and strong people must care for the sad ones if we want to do our duty and help to straighten the world a little.”
“Father,” whispered Milly, softly, “will you tell us how—Olly and me? We would if we knew how.”
“Well, Milly, suppose you begin with Becky, and poor Tiza too, indeed. I wonder whether a pair of little people could make a scrap-book for Becky to look at when she is getting better?”
“Oh yes, yes!” said Milly, joyfully, “I’ve got ever so many pictures in mother’s writing-book, she let me cut out of her ‘Graphics,’ and Olly can help paste; can’t you, Olly?”
“Olly generally pastes his face more than anything else,” said Mr. Norton, giving a sly pull at his brown curls. “If I’m not very much mistaken, there is a little fairy pasting up your eyes, old man.”
“I’m not sleepy, not a bit,” said Olly, sitting bolt upright and blinking very fast.