Mr. Harding and John Monday commenced eating at once, but Mousey waited to silently say the grace which the others apparently omitted.
"Why don't you begin your breakfast?" Mr. Harding asked, with a touch of severity in his tone. "Don't you like porridge, eh? It's wholesome food, and not to be despised, let me tell you, miss!"
"Oh, yes, yes!" Mousey cried, growing suddenly crimson and seizing her spoon in great haste. "I—I was only saying grace, Cousin Robert."
John Monday began to laugh, but ceased abruptly as his master turned upon him with a frown.
"What are you making that noise for, eh?" Mr. Harding demanded, his small eyes sparkling angrily. "Because you're ungrateful yourself for the good things provided for you is no reason why others should be."
The lad looked so abashed that Mousey's heart was touched at the sight.
"Oh, please don't be angry with him, Cousin Robert," she pleaded. "I—I don't think he meant to be rude."
"Well, well, get on with your breakfast, child," Mr. Harding answered in more pacific tones; "and do you mind your manners another time, Monday, or you and I shall fall out."
The meal was finished with thick bread and butter and weak tea, but Mousey found the porridge so satisfying that she wanted nothing else. She was glad when Mr. Harding rose from the table and told his assistant to take down the shutters and open the shop door.
When Maria came in to clear away the breakfast-things the old man requested her to find some employment about the house for Mousey.