"Master has breakfast at eight," Maria responded; "it's ten minutes to that, so you are in plenty of time."
"You'd hear enough about it if you did happen to be late," John Monday remarked. "Mr. Harding likes everyone to be punctual. He'll be down himself at the tick of eight o'clock, you'll see. You haven't known him long, have you?"
"No. I saw him for the first time on the day when mother was buried," Mousey replied.
"What did you think of him?" he asked curiously.
Mousey hesitated in confusion, but Maria came to her assistance by reproving the lad for putting such a question.
"There's no harm in it," he said in an aggrieved tone. "I know what I thought when I saw him go off in his old suit of black that's green with age, and that tall hat of his that no one else in the town would wear. I thought he looked a real old miser, and so he did!"
"Hush!" cried Maria, glancing anxiously towards the doorway; "you know how softly he treads. Don't you let him overhear you! You mustn't pay any attention to what John says," she continued, turning to Mousey; "he lets his tongue run away with him. Ah, here comes master!"
She slipped out of the room, and a few seconds later Mr. Harding entered. He nodded to John Monday, who civilly wished him good-morning, and then turned his attention to Mousey.
"Well, little maid, and how is it with you?" he questioned.
She coloured beneath his keen scrutiny, but replied that she was very well, and hoped he was, too. He sat down at the table with his eyes fixed on the clock on the mantelshelf; and in the course of a few minutes Maria re-entered, bearing three basins of porridge on a tray. The old man motioned to the young people to take their seat which they accordingly did, and Maria placed a basin of porridge before each.