Chapter VIII: Mousey Learns She Is to Go to School; and Makes a New Acquaintance

MR. HARDING supplied Mousey with a postage stamp for her letter; and in the course of a few days she had an answer from Aunt Eliza, enclosing sixpence—in stamps—from Uncle Dick. It was the first letter she had ever received, and she was so pleased that she showed it to each member of the household. Maria said she was sure Mrs. Dawson was a good woman, and she did not wonder her niece loved her so much. John Monday remarked that he wished he had an aunt to write a letter to him, and an uncle to send him a present, and wanted to know how Mousey was going to spend her money; whilst Mr. Harding appeared gratified at being offered the epistle to read, and expressed his approval of its contents.

"Your aunt is a sensible woman," he told the little girl; "she has written you some good advice, which I hope you mean to follow."

"Oh, yes," Mousey answered earnestly, "indeed I do."

"Shall I purchase your stamps from you?" he asked.

"Thank you, Cousin Robert. Will you please take four, and let me keep two? because I shall want to write to Aunt Eliza again."

"Very well," he agreed. "I've no objection to your writing letters now and then; but, remember, each letter costs a penny. If you mind your pence the shillings will take care of themselves."

"Yes, Cousin Robert," she replied.

"You must learn to be economical, child," he continued gravely, as he gave her fourpence in exchange for four stamps; "take care of your money—take care of it. 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. Mousey was perfectly satisfied with the plain food which was provided for the household, for she had not been accustomed to luxuries; in fact, she could remember certain occasions when she and her mother had scarcely had enough money to get the necessaries of life; so she never grumbled as John Monday did—though not in his master's hearing—if the dinner was not to his liking.

One day Mousey was informed that she was to go to school on the following Monday.

"I hope you'll be a good girl," Mr. Harding said, "and learn all you possibly can. Remember that most probably you will have your own living to get one of these days, and it's to your advantage to get as much knowledge as you can."

"Yes, Cousin Robert," she replied earnestly; "you will see how hard I shall try to get on."

"And remember, too, that schooling costs money. If you don't make use of the advantages I give you, you might just as well put your hand into my pocket and rob me. Do you understand that, eh?"

Mousey looked somewhat alarmed, for Mr. Harding's sharp eyes seemed to be piercing her through and through. She longed to say that she was not a thief, and hoped she never would be, but a choking sensation in her throat made her incapable of speech.

"You will not have far to go every day," Mr. Harding proceeded, "only about ten minutes' walk. The person who keeps the school is called Mrs. Downing. She is a lady—oh, yes, quite a lady! Her husband was a doctor, who died about six months ago, leaving her unprovided for, so she has commenced a school in hopes of being able to make a living out of it. She has not many pupils at present, but doubtless the school will increase. Mrs. Downing is under obligations to me—great obligations."

He paused for a minute, then continued—

"I was able to be of service to Mrs. Downing's late husband, and she is not unmindful of the fact. This is an ungrateful world, as a rule, and folks get little thanks for lending others a helping hand, but—"

He paused, seeing, by the look of utter bewilderment on the child's face, that she failed to follow him.

They were in the parlour, whilst John Monday was in charge of the shop. As Mr. Harding broke off in the midst of his sentence, the bell suspended to the shop door rang, and Mousey saw that a customer had arrived. She recognised the clergyman she had heard preach at the mission chapel on Easter Sunday.

Mr. Harding stepped quietly into the shop, leaving the glass door ajar, so that Mousey could hear every word that passed.

"I have called to see if my watch is ready," Mr. Bradley said in his clear, pleasant voice, as he turned to address Mr. Harding.

"Yes, sir," was the response; "I have cleaned it and put it in order. John, where is Mr. Bradley's watch?"

John Monday produced it from a drawer under the counter and handed it to its owner.

"Thank you," Mr. Bradley said. "What have I to pay?"

"Three shillings, if you please, sir."

The clergyman paid the money, but lingered still. "Anything else I can do for you to-day, sir?" inquired Mr. Harding.

"No, thank you. 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! Come here."

At the sound of Mr. Harding's voice calling to her the child started, and her face flushed rosy red. She stepped into the shop, however, where Mr. Bradley greeted her with a pleasant smile, at the same time holding out his hand. Mousey slipped her fingers into his with a feeling of confidence and trust.

"What is your name, my dear?" he asked, after he had shaken hands with her.

"Arabella Abbot, sir," she answered, "but everyone calls me Mousey."

He smiled and looked at her curiously, with a puzzled air, as he inquired—

"Surely I have seen you before, have I not? Why, of course, I remember. You were at the mission chapel with Mr. Harding's servant, who is a regular attendant on Sunday evenings. I thought I knew your face."

"Fancy your noticing her!" Mr. Harding exclaimed. "You must have a wonderfully good memory for faces, sir."

"Yes, I believe I have," was the response; "but you must remember I have been here for two years, and the countenances of most of the members of my congregation are familiar to me. I generally notice a stranger."

He did not say that he had been struck by Mousey's face because it had been so earnest and attentive, but he looked at the little girl very kindly, noting her mourning dress, and the wistful expression in the soft brown eyes.

"The child lost her mother a little more than a month ago," Mr. Harding explained, "and she's not in her usual spirits—or, at any rate, she's much quieter than most children. However, I'm sending her to school on Monday, and that will be a change for her, and give her plenty to occupy her mind with. Perhaps you know that Dr. Downing's widow has opened a school, sir?"

"Yes," Mr. Bradley answered; "I hope she will make it a success."

"My little cousin is to be one of her pupils this coming term," Mr. Harding went on. "I wish the child to have a good education, and I am informed that Mrs. Downing was a governess before she married, and a clever, competent teacher. It is fortunate for her she can work for her living."

Mr. Bradley agreed that it was very fortunate, and after a little further conversation proceeded on his way, whilst Mousey retired to the kitchen to tell Maria that she was to go to school on the following Monday, and that she had made the acquaintance of the clergyman who preached at the mission chapel.

"I think Mr. Bradley is one of the nicest gentlemen I ever met," said Mousey, whose experience had not been large. "There was a look in his face that reminded me of Uncle Dick, though I don't know how that could be, because Mr. Bradley is rather pale and thin, and Uncle Dick is big, and his cheeks are quite rosy."

"Then they can't be in the least alike," exclaimed Maria, laughing.

"Oh, but they are!" the little girl persisted.

Maria was engaged in peeling potatoes. Mousey watched her in silence for a few minutes, wondering at the puzzled expression on the woman's face.

"What are you thinking about, Maria?" she asked at length.

"I was thinking how apt one is to misjudge others, my dear. Now, it never occurred to me that master would send you to Mrs. Downing's school; I thought he'd send you to some place cheaper. It appears that though I've lived with him so many years, I don't understand him yet. Well, all I can say is, I hope you'll learn all you possibly can, and then he won't feel his money is wasted."

"I mean to try to get on," Mousey answered soberly. "I promise you I won't waste Cousin Robert's money if I can help it."