ut
hark! isn't that father's step?"

It had grown so dark that they could hardly see who it was opening the
gate.

"Oh yes, it is," cried Milly. "It's father and mother." Away they ran to
meet them, and Mrs. Norton took Milly's little pale face in both her
hands and kissed it.

"She's not _very_ badly hurt, darling. The doctor says she must lie
quite quiet for two or three weeks, and then he hopes she'll be all
right. The wheel gave her a squeeze, which jarred her poor little back
and head very much, but it didn't break anything, and if she lies very
quite the doctor thinks she'll get quite well again." "Oh mother! and
does Tiza know?"

"Yes, we have just been to tell her. Mrs. Wheeler had put her to bed,
but she went up to give her our message, and she said poor little Tiza
began to cry again, and wanted us to tell her mother she would be _so_
quiet if only they would let her come back to Becky."

"Will they, mother?"

"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