Chapter XVIII: John Monday in Trouble

JOHN MONDAY soon found that his resolution to turn over a new leaf was not an easy one to keep; but he persevered against difficulties which he had never for one moment anticipated. It did not take him long to discover that the path of duty, honestly followed, is often thorny and full of stumbling-blocks for steps unaccustomed to the road, and that bad habits are not easily shaken off. Then, too, Herbert Hambly, the acquaintance who had seemed so desirable in every way only a short while since, could not be made to understand all at once that John Monday no longer desired to know him; and on one occasion the young man waylaid the boy in the street, and demanded why he persisted in avoiding him.

"Because my master says I'm to have no more to do with you," John Monday answered, thinking it best to speak plainly; "and so you mustn't come to the shop to see me again."

"But we can meet elsewhere," the other suggested craftily. "Don't you want to win back that half-crown you lost last week?"

"I'm not going to bet again."

"Oh, indeed! Why not, pray?"

"Because it's wrong," was the blunt reply.

Herbert Hambly glanced at the boy shrewdly, then shrugged his shoulders with would-be carelessness, and broke into a scornful laugh.

"Come now, that's rich!" he cried. "What a funny chap you are, to be sure! The other day you were all for making your fortune, and now— Hulloa! Why is that little girl staring at us?"

It was Mousey on her way home from school. She had recognised Herbert Hambly as the young man of whom Mr. Harding disapproved, for she had seen him with John Monday on several occasions; but she was not prepared to find them apparently in deep conversation together, knowing the acquaintance had been forbidden, and in her astonishment paused on the opposite side of the street to look at them.

"It's Mr. Harding's little cousin," the boy said hastily. "Please understand you must not come to the shop again on any account, and I'm not going to meet you anywhere else. Good-afternoon," and he crossed to Mousey's side, whilst Herbert Hambly stared after him with a look of blank astonishment.

"I've been doing an errand for Mr. Harding," the lad explained as he turned homewards with Mousey. "I suppose you wondered to see me talking to Herbert Hambly? I was trying to make him understand that I can't be friends with him any longer."

"I did wonder when I saw you," Mousey acknowledged. "I was afraid you had forgotten what Cousin Robert said on Sunday."

"Oh, no!"

"Do you know we break up for the summer holidays next week?" she said presently. "Nellie Thomas is going to the seaside for a month with her mother and brothers. Won't that be nice for them? Mrs. Downing and Miss Longley will remain at home, and they say they hope I'll come and see them sometimes. Do you think Cousin Robert will let me?"

"I dare say he will; but I shouldn't have thought you would want to see your school teachers in the holidays."

"What a funny idea! Oh, John, I have spent part of the half-crown Uncle Dick gave me! What do you think I have bought? An India-rubber ball for the twins. They were so delighted. The rest of the money I gave to Mrs. Thomas to spend for the sick children at the hospital."

John Monday sighed regretfully as he thought of the fate of his own half-crown. Mousey guessed his thoughts, and hastened to offer all the consolation within her power to give.

"Never mind," she said, and the boy understood that she referred to his bet; "you won't do it again."

"I don't know," he replied gloomily. "I don't intend to, but things seem going against me. I can't get properly quit of Herbert Hambly, and—" dropping his voice to a confidential whisper— "I'm afraid of what he'll do if he cuts up rusty."

"I don't understand what you mean."

"He might tell Mr. Harding things about me. He was always asking me questions about Mr. Harding, and I know I told him a lot I ought not to have told. And once I let him look through the glass door into the parlour to see the old secretaire where Mr. Harding keeps his account books and some of his money. I must have been mad, I think, but I hadn't found out what he was really like then."

"How did you find out what he was really like?" Mousey asked wonderingly.

"It was after I had lost the half-crown. I told him I hadn't any more money, and he advised me to help myself to some."

"What did he mean?"

"He meant I should steal from Mr. Harding."

"Oh, John!"

"Yes, he meant I should steal from Mr. Harding," he repeated. "He said if I took it from the secretaire Mr. Harding would never be able to prove it was I who had done it; and if I won the next bet I made I could replace the money, and no one would be any the wiser."

"What did you say? Did you tell him how wicked he was?"

"No; I was frightened. That was the real reason why I made up my mind to have no more to do with him. You won't tell anyone what I've told you, will you?"

"No," Mousey replied, looking at him with eyes full of distress. "Oh, what a wicked, wicked man he must be! Don't you think it would be better to tell Cousin Robert?"

"No, no, not for worlds!" he cried hastily. "Mind, you have promised, and if you break your word, I'll never trust you with a secret again!"

"I won't tell," Mousey hastened to assure him, forgiving the almost fierce manner in which he had turned upon her on account of the wretchedness she read in his face. "No wonder you have looked so unhappy lately," she added sympathetically.

"Unhappy!" he exclaimed bitterly. "I have been miserable—miserable!"

When they arrived at home Mr. Harding chid his assistant for having been absent so long, and asked him where he had been. John Monday made an evasive answer, which raised the old man's suspicions, and he proceeded to question him further. Then the boy, in desperation, explained how he had met Herbert Hambly, and the difficulty he found in dropping his acquaintance. Mr. Harding appeared less annoyed when he learned the truth, and said he should look-out for an opportunity of speaking to the irrepressible young man; on hearing which, John Monday turned white to the lips. During the evening Mousey informed her cousin of the ways in which she had disposed of her uncle's half-crown.

"Did you not buy anything for yourself?" he inquired in surprise.

"No; there was nothing I really wanted. Dolly and Dick were so pleased with their ball! You'll let me go to see them sometimes in the holidays, won't you, Cousin Robert?" she asked coaxingly.

"Yes, if Mrs. Downing wishes it. So she is not going away herself? Humph! I suppose she can't afford it. 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. You must not think I don't remember how much money you have to pay for me."

"Never mind that," he told her hastily, whilst a queer expression crossed his face as he reflected in what manner her school bill was being paid.

"I wish I could help John in some way," Mousey thought as she laid her head on the pillow that night; "but I'm afraid there is nothing I can do."

Then she remembered how her mother had impressed upon her that she could always pray for those who seemed beyond her help, so she earnestly commended the orphan boy to the care of his Father in heaven, and never doubted but that God would befriend him in his time of need.