"Got accustomed to it?" Mousey repeated questioningly.
"To the place, I mean, and to master's ways. His ways wouldn't suit everyone."
Mousey longed to inquire what his ways were like, but refrained from doing so, fearing, if she asked, Maria would consider her very curious.
"I don't think I like John Monday much," she said a little later; "it wasn't nice of him to speak of Cousin Robert as he did this morning. Of course, I know what a miser is—a mean person who loves money better than anything else. John called Cousin Robert a miser. And at breakfast he laughed because I said grace."
"Did master laugh too?" Maria asked quickly.
"Oh, no! He was very angry with John Monday."
"Was he? Ah, well, you know folks are not all brought up alike, and you must not be surprised if master and John are different to the people you've been accustomed to—people like your mother, and aunt, and that good uncle you've been telling me about. Master's whole heart is in his business, and he thinks of little else. He's not religious."
"Doesn't he go to church?" Mousey asked.
"No, nor to chapel, nor to any place of worship; at least, he never has since I've known him. He spends his Sunday—there! you'll see for yourself!"
"But doesn't he feel lonely without God for his friend?"