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The unfortunate nurse, of course, had not brought them. "Milly's po'r flo'rs is dead," Milly grieved in the little weak voice they heard then for the first time. "Milly's daddy took Milly's flo'rs, and they died." To that astonishing statement the child adhered during the first days of her long illness, till she forgot, and spoke of it no more.
Milly's daddy took Milly's flo'rs and they died," Milly had said. Never would Mrs Eddington leave her child, or forget Milly's daddy again. Yet, when the anniversary of poor Harry Eddington's death came round again, Milly had been for three-quarters of a year running about as of old; her mother had been for two months the wife of Major Walsh.
"He could not come to Milly." "Milly's daddy took Milly's flo'rs, and they died," the sad little voice protested; and the child softly whimpered upon the pillow. "The child can't, of course, even remember her father," Major Walsh said, with impatience, being sick of the subject and the importance attached to it. "She was only two when he died." "How can you tell what a child of two remembers?"
On the very anniversary of her poor Harry's death she had forgotten him so far! Never would she forget him again. The words the child spoke had recorded a mere delusion, the doctor told her, of the little dazed brain in the moment preceding unconsciousness; but for all that rational view, they awed the mother, haunted her. "Milly's p'or flo'rs is dead.
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