"Shall I put your flowers in water for you?"
Mousey assented gratefully, for her cherished blossoms were commencing to droop.
Maria lifted the nosegay, and smiled as she remarked, "I'm very fond of flowers, but we don't often see any in this house. Master says they're an expensive luxury."
Downstairs Mousey found Mr. Harding already seated at the tea-table. He looked at her sharply as she entered the room, and pointed to a chair opposite to his own.
"Sit down, child," he said; and, as she obeyed, he went on to explain: "I always have my tea at five o'clock prompt, and you had better join me. John Monday has his afterwards."
He poured out a cup of weak tea, which he passed to her, telling her to help herself to milk. Then he remarked that he supposed she did not care for sugar, it was an unnecessary expense, adding, with a chuckle, that he understood it was not fashionable nowadays to take sugar in tea. Mousey did not like to confess that she was accustomed to sugar in her tea, so she drank the lukewarm beverage he offered her, unsweetened.
At that point Maria entered, bearing a large bowl, in which she had arranged Mousey's flowers with considerable taste. The little girl smiled as the woman placed the bowl in the centre of the table, casting a deprecating glance at her master as she did so; but he made no remark until she had left the room; then he turned to his companion and said—
"I have no objection to flowers as long as they don't cost me anything. I suppose if your uncle had sold those they would have turned in some money, eh?"
"Yes," she assented; "the hyacinth blooms are sixpence a dozen."
"Ah! no wonder my friend Dawson remains a poor man," Mr. Harding exclaimed.