In a few minutes a lady entered whom Mousey knew must be Mrs. Downing, for she wore a widow's cap. She was much younger and prettier than Mousey had expected; but she had a resolute way of speaking, combined with a manner that, gentle though it was, inspired respect as well as confidence. She shook hands with Mr. Harding, and then turned her attention to Mousey.
"This is my little cousin," the old man explained, "and I'm sure I hope you'll find her a promising pupil, ma'am. I've told her she must work hard, and do her best."
"As I believe she will," Mrs. Downing replied, her fine grey eyes resting encouragingly on the child's downcast face. "Yes," she added, as Mousey looked up quickly and smiled, "I am sure she will."
"It is to be hoped so," Mr. Harding remarked dryly, "for she will have her own way to make in the world. She is an orphan. In short, she has no one to look to but me."
"And her Father in Heaven," Mrs. Downing concluded gravely.
The old man glanced at her sharply, drawing down the corners of his mouth and puckering his brow; but Mrs. Downing met his look with perfect serenity, and his eyes fell beneath the light in hers.
"Having delivered my little cousin into your hands, ma'am, I'll say good-day," he said stiffly. "Good-bye, Mousey; be a good girl."
After he had gone Mrs. Downing put a few questions to the child concerning her name, age, and former abode. Mousey was shy at first, but encouraged by the look of interest on the other's face, she told her about her old home with her mother. Mrs. Downing listened attentively, and though she made only an occasional remark, the little girl felt she was talking to one who sympathised with, and understood her.
"Now, I will show you the schoolroom, and introduce you to your school-fellows, and to my sister, Miss Longley, who assists me in the teaching," Mrs. Downing said at length, and taking Mousey by the hand she led her out of the room in the direction of a baize-covered door which the child had noticed on entering the house.
"Muvver! Muv-ver!"