Eleanora H. Stooke

“ Mr. Harding asked, with a touch of severity in his tone. "Don't you like porridge, eh? It's wholesome food, and not to be despised, let me tell you, miss!"
"Oh, yes, yes!" Mousey cried, growing suddenly crimson and seizing her spoon in great haste. "I—I was only saying grace, Cousin Robert."
John Monday began to laugh, but ceased abruptly as his master turned upon him with a frown.
"What are you making that noise for, eh?" Mr. Harding demanded, his small eyes sparkling angrily. "Because you're ungrateful yourself for the good things provided for you is no reason why others should be." ”

“ Surely Cousin Robert could not mind John's going to church, or joining Mr. Bradley's Bible class?
"You know nothing about it, child," he told her, not unkindly. "I respect Mr. Bradley, but, unless I am much mistaken, he is deceived in John Monday's character." He turned to the boy again. "Is it true, or not, that you have learnt to bet and gamble? I have been hearing stories of you to-night which have annoyed me greatly. Who's the young man whom you have been making your boon companion lately?" ”

“ Dawson exclaimed, as she put one arm around her little niece affectionately; "but Cousin Robert can do much more for you than we can."
"Oh, Aunt Eliza, please don't think of that!"
"But that is what I do think of, my dear. You see, Mousey, we are not well off, and it would make us miserable if we stood in your way. We think you ought to accept Cousin Robert's offer—it is really a most generous and kind one. You will not be far away from us, and you can always depend upon our love. Besides, you know, even if you had no Aunt Eliza and Uncle Dick, you would have one Friend on whom to rely." ”

“ There was a ring of triumph in the old man's tone, and his eyes sparkled brightly. Mousey was greatly impressed by his words, though not in the way he imagined.
"It must be nice to be rich," she said softly. "I know what I would do if I had plenty of money," she continued; "I would put a beautiful, white marble tombstone over mother and father's grave; and I would send a lot of lovely presents to Aunt Eliza, and Uncle Dick, and the children."
"Oh, indeed! And would you give me anything?" Mr. Harding asked in his most caustic tones.
"You don't want anything," Mousey answered simply. ”

“ Dawson paused abruptly, doubtful if he ought to tell what he thought; instead, he said—
"Does Mr. Harding give you everything you want, my dear? Plenty of good food, and—"
"Oh, yes!" Mousey broke in; "although we don't always have such a nice tea as we had to-day," she added, with simple honesty.
"And your cousin is kind to you?"
"Very kind. I used to be afraid of him, but I'm not a bit now. But he is not like you, Uncle Dick; he never goes to church, and—" dropping her voice to a mysterious whisper— "a great many people call him a miser. John Monday says he's the meanest man he ever knew." ”

“ Harding remarked quietly, putting the tray on one side, and leaning across the counter to stare into the other's face as though he wished to remember his features. "Take my word for it, there's nothing in this shop that's likely to suit you— and, don't come again!"
"What do you mean?" began Herbert Hambly, assuming a blustering manner.
"I mean that I won't have you here, nor shall you have anything to do with my assistant. I know quite enough about you to be aware that your company is most undesirable; in fact, I think my best plan will be to ask the police to keep an eye on your movements." ”

“ Many a good man's been born in a workhouse, and if I were you, I'd make up my mind to lead an upright, honest life, so that if I ever went back to the workhouse it should be by no fault of my own. There's an old proverb which says, 'God helps those who help themselves,' and I believe it's quite true. God doesn't help folks who bet and gamble, but He does those who try to be good, and He'll help you if you ask Him."
John Monday shook his head in a mournful way ”

“ Mousey's heart was filled with dismay, for she had never before contemplated a life lived apart from God. Maria saw she was distressed, and tried to comfort her.
"Master has his good points," she said consolingly, "and if he's not religious himself, he doesn't interfere with the religion of other people. I dare say he'll let you go to church with me on Sunday evenings. I don't go mornings because there's the housework to do."
"Oh, Maria," cried the little girl earnestly, "I do not think I shall ever be happy in this miserable place!" ”

“ There was a brief silence, during which Mousey struggled to overcome her emotion, and succeeded so far as to presently ask in a resigned tone—
"When is Uncle Dick going to write to Cousin Robert? Soon?"
"He thinks of doing so to-morrow," Mrs. Dawson responded. "Cousin Robert is an old man, and I should think he must be very lonely. He never married, and he has no near relations. His must be a quiet home; perhaps you will make it brighter. Oh, my dear!" she exclaimed, as Mousey shook her head, "you must try to be happy there; it seems to me that there your duty lies. ”

“ She let him go at last, but stood on the doorstep watching his large figure, with the empty basket slung on one arm, and the shrunken form of Mr. Harding, who was accompanying his visitor to the station, until they were out of sight.
Mousey turned slowly into the house, entering the parlour with misty eyes and quivering lips. John Monday, who was evidently waiting to speak to her, glanced at her with some concern.
"I say, don't cry," he said kindly; "but I don't wonder you're sorry he's gone. He's a proper sort of man, he is!" ”

“ I hardly ever open my mouth before him without he snaps out something sharp and nasty—sometimes I feel I'd a deal rather be in the workhouse than here."
"Dear! dear!" said Mr. Dawson; "I'm afraid you're discontented with your lot in life. Are you learning to be a jeweller?"
"Yes; but I hate the work. I should like to be a market gardener."
"I suppose Mousey has told you that's my trade?"
John Monday nodded. He was greatly attracted by Mr. Dawson's kind face, which seemed to express his goodwill towards the world in general. ”

“ Mousey cried, her cheeks burning, her heart swelling with anger; "why should I be ashamed of Cousin Robert?"
"Because he's such a miser, and dresses so shabbily," Nellie retorted. "I declare it's positively wicked of him to be so mean! My father says Mr. Harding could afford to live in a nice house, and keep several servants; but he prefers that dirty little shop of his. He won't give money to anything, or anybody—not even to the hospital. And he never goes to church, does he, Mousey?" ”

“ Your uncle is very generous, very!"
"Oh, yes," she cried; "there's no one so kind as dear Uncle Dick!"
"He'll never die a rich man," he responded, as he turned away.
By this time the little girl was overcoming her first dislike to her new home. Cousin Robert, when he took any notice of her, which was not often, spoke to her kindly; Maria was her very good friend; and John Monday seemed to enjoy a chat with her if Mr. Harding was not near to put a check on his speech. ”

“ I dare say you may have noticed it—it stands in its own grounds, and has a pretty summer-house in one corner of the front garden."
"You don't mean Homeleigh, do you?" Mousey said, feeling quite astounded at the idea of such a possibility, for she knew the little dwelling well by sight, and had admired it often. "Oh, Cousin Robert, you can't mean Homeleigh!"
"Why not, eh?" Mr. Harding questioned gruffly, with a sharp glance.
"It is such a lovely place!" she cried, her checks flushing with excitement. "I never dreamt you would think of living in a house like that!" ”

“ They tell me that you have adopted a little girl, Mr. Harding. Is that a fact?"
"I suppose it is," the old man admitted. "At any rate, I am making a home for a little girl, the daughter of a cousin of mine who is dead. The poor child has no friends to do anything for her except myself and an aunt and uncle—very good people in their way, no doubt, but, to my mind, utterly improvident! They have quite enough to do to look after their own children, I should say. I've taken the little girl, and mean to be a friend to her if she behaves herself. Here, Mousey, a gentleman's inquiring about you! ”

“ The little girl's face was beaming with happiness, for a drive was a pleasure she had not expected.
"What is the pony called?" she inquired.
"Billy," was the response. "He's very quiet and good-tempered, and he goes well, doesn't he?"
"He does, indeed," Mousey answered; "but I'm afraid we must be rather a heavy weight for him."
"Well, I dare say I am a good weight," her uncle replied, laughing, "but I don't suppose you are very heavy. However, Billy is not overburdened. Did you leave your cousin well, Mousey?" ”

“ I can't think why folks are constantly wanting to be running from one place to another for change of air. When I was young things were different, and people put away their money against rainy days. And young people used not to have such long holidays when I was a child, let me tell you. I went to the village school, and that was all the schooling I ever had. I had none of the advantages of education that you are having. You ought to consider yourself a very fortunate little girl."
"I do; indeed, I do!" she replied gratefully; "and I know it's all owing to you, Cousin Robert. ”

“ Mousey paused abruptly, overcome with a sudden shyness, and mindful of Maria's warning not to speak of religion to her companion; but the old man bade her go on and tell him what she had been about to say.
"Easter comes when everything is springing into life after the winter," Mousey proceeded in a low voice. "Mother said the sight of the trees budding and the flowers blooming ought to remind us that there is no such thing as death." ”

“ John Monday blushed deeply, but his eyes did not falter beneath the other's scrutinising gaze. In a low tone he commenced to explain how sorry he was he had not tried more to please Mr. Harding in the past. Mousey moved on with her aunt and uncle, so that what followed between her cousin and his late assistant she never knew. When Mr. Harding joined them again she overheard him say to Mr. Dawson—
"I never saw anyone so much altered in a short while as John Monday. He has grown such a manly lad, and his manners are wonderfully improved." ”

“ Mousey looked at the old man with a brilliant smile of pleasure illuminating her face, and running round to his side, put her arms round his neck as she said—
"Cousin Robert, why do you pretend to be so cross when you're nothing of the kind? You know you want poor John to get on and please Uncle Dick."
"Did you ever hear such a saucy child?" Mr. Harding inquired, appealing to Mr. Dawson, who was astonished to see that the old man was pleased at Mousey's coaxing tone. "She never minds what she says to me. And she evidently thinks nothing of the loss John Monday has caused me." ”

“ Mousey looked at Mr. Harding with satisfaction as she joined him in the parlour preparatory to starting on their usual Sunday morning walk, and found him attired in his new suit of clothes. In his hand he held a new hat in place of the old one. He glanced at the little girl with a humorous twinkle in his eyes as she entered the room.
"One expense brings another," he remarked in his usual gruff tone. "I was worried into buying a new suit of clothes, and I thought I must have a new hat, too."
"I am very glad," Mousey replied quickly. "How nice you look, Cousin Robert!" ”

“ A mist rose to Mousey's eyes as she caught sight of her aunt's figure in the doorway of the house, and she gave a little sob of delight as a pair of motherly arms lifted her down from her seat by Uncle Dick's side, and a tender kiss of welcome was pressed on her trembling lips.
"My dear child, how good it is to see you again!" cried Aunt Eliza, as she led her niece into the sitting-room, and, holding her at arm's length, looked at her with a kindly, critical glance. "Why, how you've grown! ”

“ He looked at the boy, who had perched himself on the high stool behind the counter, and a kindly twinkle came into his eyes. "I think you must be John Monday," he said; "my little niece has spoken of you in her letters."
"Then you are Uncle Dick—Mr. Dawson?"
"Yes. I thought I'd give Mousey a surprise."
"She will be pleased! She's for ever talking of you and her aunt."
"Bless her little heart!" Mr. Dawson exclaimed. "How is the dear child?"
"Quite well. She goes to school every day, you know, and is growing uncommonly sharp." ”

“ You'll write to us, and tell us how you're getting on, and—who knows?—perhaps your aunt and I may find time to pay you a visit one of these days."
"Oh, I hope you will!" Mousey cried excitedly; "that will be something to look forward to."
"Be very sure we shall not lose sight of you, my dear child," Mrs. Dawson said, with an affectionate smile at her little niece.
"It makes me so unhappy to think of parting from you all," Mousey told them; "but I should like to do what is right. I wish I knew Cousin Robert better, because then I should know how to please him. ”

“ John called Cousin Robert a miser. And at breakfast he laughed because I said grace."
"Did master laugh too?" Maria asked quickly.
"Oh, no! He was very angry with John Monday."
"Was he? Ah, well, you know folks are not all brought up alike, and you must not be surprised if master and John are different to the people you've been accustomed to—people like your mother, and aunt, and that good uncle you've been telling me about. Master's whole heart is in his business, and he thinks of little else. He's not religious."
"Doesn't he go to church?" Mousey asked. ”