"Does the business affect Mousey?" the old man asked sharply.
"No, it has nothing whatever to do with her."
They had left the station, and in a few minutes reached Mr. Harding's home. The shop looked as dingy and dismal as ever; but a new assistant stood behind the counter—a spruce, well-dressed young man, who stared at Mousey and Mr. Dawson very hard. Mr. Harding took no notice of him, but led the way into the parlour, whilst Mousey rushed off to the kitchen in quest of Maria.
"Good gracious, child!" Maria exclaimed, as the child flung herself into her arms; "you don't mean to say you're actually pleased to be back again!"
"Yes, I'm really glad!" Mousey answered, hugging Maria tightly. "Of course, I was very sorry to leave Aunt Eliza and my cousins; but I wanted to see you badly, and Cousin Robert, too."
"Well, that's good hearing, anyway. I thought you'd never want to return, and I believe master had his doubts about it. We've missed you, my dear, more than I can tell."
"Guess who's in the parlour, Maria. Oh, you can't! Why, Uncle Dick!"
"You don't say so! Then he'll be here to tea, I suppose? There's the town porter with your box, I hear. I must go, and help take it upstairs—we've no John Monday now."
But it was Uncle Dick who insisted on carrying Mousey's box to her room, though Mr. Harding assured him there was no necessity for him to do so.
"How considerate your uncle is," Maria remarked to the little girl, as Mr. Dawson rejoined Mr. Harding in the parlour. "I do like to see a man helpful—I'll say that for John Monday, with all his faults, he was always willing to put a hand to anything. Ah, dear, master made a mistake when he drove the boy away."