“Yes, uncle,” she answered, looking up earnestly. “’You will punish me most severely.’  I will remember.  I have been wondering why I broke it, when I didn’t mean to do it.  Nurse says it was a most ’unfortunate accident.’  I asked her what an accident was.  She says it’s a thing that happens when you don’t expect it—­a surprise, she called it.  I’m sure it was a dreadful surprise to me, and to Fritz, too; but I’ll never play ball in the hall again, never!”

A week later, and Sir Edward was in his study, absorbed in his books and papers, when there was a knock at his door, and, to his astonishment, his little niece walked in.  This was so against all rules and regulations that his voice was very stern as he said,—­

“What is the meaning of this intrusion, Millicent?  You know you are never allowed to disturb me when here.”

Milly did not answer for a moment.  She walked up to her uncle, her small lips tightly closed, and then, standing in front of him with clasped hands, she said,—­

“I’ve come to tell you some dreadful news.”

Sir Edward pushed aside his papers, adjusted his glasses, and saw from the pallor of the child’s face and the scared expression in her eyes, that it was no light matter that had made her venture into his presence uncalled for.

“It’s a dreadful surprise again,” Milly continued, “but I told nurse I must tell you at once.  I—­I felt so bad here,” and her little hand was laid pathetically on her chest.

“Well, what is it?  Out with it, child!  You are wasting my time,” said her uncle impatiently.

“I have—­I have broken something else.”

There was silence.  Then Sir Edward asked drily,—­

“And what is it now?”

“It’s a—­a flower-pot, that the gardener’s boy left outside the tool-house.  I—­I—­well, I put it on Fritz’s head for a hat, you know.  He did look so funny, but he tossed up his head and ran away, and it fell, and it is smashed to bits.  I have got the bits outside the door on the mat.  Shall I bring them in?”

A flower-pot was of such small value in Sir Edward’s eyes that he almost smiled at the child’s distress.

“Well, well, you must learn not to touch the flower-pots in future.  Now run away, and do not disturb me again.”

But Milly stood her ground.

“I think you have forgot, Uncle Edward.  You told me that if I broke anything again you would punish me ‘most severely.’  Those were the words you said; don’t you remember?”

Sir Edward pulled the ends of his moustache and fidgeted uneasily in his chair.  He always prided himself upon being a man of his word, but much regretted at the present moment that he had been so rash in his speech.

“Oh! ah!  I remember,” he said at length, meeting his little niece’s anxious gaze with some embarrassment.  Then pulling himself together, he added sternly,—­

“Of course you must be punished; it was exceedingly careless and mischievous.  What does your nurse do when she punishes you?”