"John, you didn't go away with Herbert Hambly, did you?" Mousey questioned anxiously when he had finished his meal.
"No, no! What makes you ask that?"
"Because Cousin Robert thinks you did."
"But I told Mr. Harding I never saw Herbert Hambly after he got rid of him when he called to see me the last time at the shop. How could he believe I had gone away with him?"
"I suppose he thought you hadn't told the truth."
"I did tell him the truth," the boy declared with such earnestness that neither of his hearers doubted his words. "He had a perfect right to be angry, but I couldn't stand the hard, bitter things he said to me, although I may have deserved them. I'd rather go hungry, and sleep by the side of a hedge, than go back to him, that I would!"
"Mousey, run and tell your uncle I want him in here," Mrs. Dawson said quietly; "and do you remain where you are," she added, turning to John Monday, who had risen to his feet.
"Thank you, ma'am," he replied, as he sat down again. "I'm afraid I'm very dusty and dirty, not fit to be seen, and that makes it all the kinder of you to treat me like this."
Mousey soon found her uncle, and he accompanied her to the kitchen. John Monday, fully conscious of his disreputable appearance, rose, and stood bashfully before the master of the house, whose usually good-humoured countenance was now very grave and stern.
"Well, young man, what has brought you here?" he commenced; then, as the boy made no answer, only hung his head in confusion, he motioned to his wife to go away, and take Mousey with her.