Chapter XX: Preparing for Mousey's Visit

"IT is Wednesday now; suppose we write and tell your I aunt to expect you next Monday?" suggested Mr. Harding to Mousey the following morning as he rose from the breakfast-table. "Will that give time in which to get the few new things she requires?" he added, turning to Maria, who had been summoned to clear the table.

"Yes, sir," she answered, "quite time, I should think. Being in black, she will not want many new garments—a couple of washing blouses and a new hat perhaps."

"Very well," the old man said; "you had better see about making the purchases at once. Cannot you go this morning? I shall be at home, and will keep house in your absence."

"I think I can spare the time this morning, sir. There is no dinner to cook, as I suppose we shall have the cold meat left from yesterday."

Mr. Harding nodded, and sitting down at his secretaire, took up his pen and commenced a letter to Mrs. Dawson, whilst Mousey went to help Maria about the housework.

The old man had not written many words before his attention was attracted by voices in the shop. Rising quickly, he glanced through the glass door, and perceived a dissipated-looking young man, whom he rightly guessed was Herbert Hambly, in conversation with John Monday, whose face was full of distress, whilst he appeared from his gestures to be trying to get rid of his companion. Mr. Harding turned the handle of the door very softly and entered the shop.

"You must go away," John Monday was saying; "if Mr. Harding catches you here there'll be no end of a row! He is in, I tell you!"

"Hulloa!" cried the old man, "what is the meaning of this? Who are you, eh?" he inquired sharply, fixing his piercing gaze on the young man, who shrank back abashed. "Are you here to help my assistant in wasting his time, pray?"

Herbert Hambly had not believed it when John Monday had told him that his master was within; he had thought the boy had merely made the statement to get rid of him; but though taken aback by Mr. Harding's sudden appearance, he quickly regained his self-command, and answered with great assurance—

"Not at all, sir! I called purely on a business matter. I wish to have a look at some tie-pins."

Mr. Harding brought forward a tray covered with an assortment of the ornaments mentioned, and laid it on the counter. Motioning to John Monday to stand aside, he took his place behind the counter. The young man turned over the pins in silence for a while, pretending to examine them carefully; then said he could not see one exactly like what he wanted.

"No, I imagined you would not," Mr. 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."

Though this was only said in a threat, it had the desired effect of completely subduing the young man and knocking all the bravado out of him; casting a vindictive glance at John Monday, he beat a speedy retreat, and in another moment had slipped out of the shop and was hurrying down the street.

John Monday heaved a sigh of relief, whilst his master noted with surprise how white and shaken he appeared.

"What is wrong with you?" Mr. Harding asked. "What are you afraid of?"

"I told him to go, sir, and he wouldn't," John Monday muttered, ignoring his master's question. "It wasn't my fault," he added.

"Who said it was your fault?" demanded the old man in a snappish tone. "I never did!"

He returned to the parlour, and took up his pen again, feeling irritated at the boy's manner, which had seemed to him sulky. It was some minutes before he could collect his thoughts; but, finally, the letter accepting Mrs. Dawson's kind invitation was written, and he called to Mousey to come and hear what he had said to her Aunt Eliza.

"Will that do?" he inquired, after he had read the letter aloud.

"Yes, beautifully," she replied; "but please, Cousin Robert, will you tell her how much I am looking forward to see them all?"

So Mr. Harding added a postscript to that effect, and having sealed the envelope, gave her the letter to post herself.

The little girl was looking very bright. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes shone with happiness. The old man sighed, though he reflected that Aunt Eliza would not be able to say Haughton did not suit the child, for she had certainly greatly improved in appearance lately. "I wish your poor mother could see you, my dear," he exclaimed involuntarily.

"And I wish she could know how kind you are to me," Mousey cried, her eyes filling with tears, as they always did when she thought of her mother. "Perhaps she does know," she added quickly; "she always said God would take care of me when she was gone, and He has. I thought it very strange that you should want me to come and live with you, Cousin Robert, but I suppose God put it into your heart to be kind to me."

"I don't know that He did," Mr. Harding responded.

"Oh, but He must have! I'm afraid I'm very expensive," Mousey said, thinking of the new things she was to have. "I don't believe Aunt Eliza would mind a bit if I had no new clothes."

"Nonsense! What makes you say that? Have I ever begrudged you anything?" he demanded, frowning.

"No, no," she replied hurriedly. "I only thought—oh, Cousin Robert, you do so much for me, and there isn't anything I can do for you. I wish there was."

"Well, there is," he said, a smile softening his face. "You can spare me a corner of your heart, eh? You'll try to be glad to come back here because you like me a little, and not only on account of Mrs. Downing, of whom you're so fond, and the friends you've made at school, eh?"

"Of course I shall!" she answered promptly. "I do like you very much, Cousin Robert," she added earnestly.

"I shall miss you, child," he told her. "Here comes Maria, ready to start. Don't forget to post my letter."

As if it was in the least likely she would forget that! She laughed at the idea as she tripped along by Maria's side, and slipped the precious letter into the first pillar-box they passed on their way.

During the days which followed the little girl talked of nothing but her coming visit. She went to say good-bye to Mrs. Downing, Miss Longley, and the twins; and told them all about the delightful time she expected to have with Aunt Eliza, and Uncle Dick, and her cousins. John Monday was the only one who attempted to put a damper on her happiness by remarking that some people got the best of everything.

"Oh, John," cried Mousey regretfully, "I am so sorry you are not going to have a holiday too! It does seem hard," and she looked so sympathetic that he regretted his grumbling speech, and felt ashamed of himself.

At last the much-looked-forward-to Monday arrived. The town porter fetched away Mousey's box, and after saying good-bye to Maria and John Monday, the little girl started to walk to the station with Mr. Harding. On the way he asked her if she had her purse in her pocket ready to receive her ticket.

"Oh, yes," she replied, wondering what she would have done without Uncle Dick's present on this occasion.

"Mind you don't lose it; and remember not to put your head out of the carriage window when the train is in motion. Promise that."

She promised readily. The old man was rather nervous at the thought of her travelling alone, though the journey was only a short one; but she had no fears, and was full of importance at the idea. They had not long to wait at the station, for by the time Mr. Harding had seen Mousey's box labelled, and obtained her ticket, the train was on the point of starting. He found a corner seat for her in a comfortable compartment, and placed her under the care of the guard.

"Let me put your ticket in your purse for you," he said, after he had kissed her and had warned her not to lean against the door.

She gave him her little scarlet purse, and when he returned it, she slipped it into her pocket without glancing at its contents. A minute later the train started. The old man watched it out of sight, then left the station, and walked slowly homewards with a sense of loneliness so strong that he was surprised at himself, for he had not calculated how dear his little cousin had become to him.

Meanwhile, Mousey had taken her purse out of her pocket again, and on opening it had found that, besides her ticket, it held a shilling, two sixpenny-pieces, and several coppers. She was greatly touched at this fresh proof of Mr. Harding's affection and consideration for her; and during the whole of the journey, she was thinking how she would write and thank him, and what words she could use which would best express the feelings of gratitude swelling in her heart.