"I pity you," said Nellie Thomas, a bright-faced girl about Mousey's own age, as she and Mousey stood talking in the playground at the back of the house during the quarter of an hour's respite from work in the middle of the morning. "I wouldn't be in your shoes for anything! It must be dreadful to have to live in that wretched side street."
Nellie's father was a flourishing draper in Haughton, who possessed a private residence on the outskirts of the town, so it was small wonder his daughter looked with disfavour on Mr. Harding's dingy abode.
"Cousin Robert's house is rather dull," Mousey acknowledged, "but I don't notice it as much as I did at first; and I have a beautiful view from my bedroom window."
"Is Mr. Harding kind to you?" Nellie inquired.
"Oh, yes!"
"And that odd-looking boy who came to fetch you the first day of the term—who is he?"
"He is Cousin Robert's assistant," Mousey explained. "He is learning to be a jeweller. Cousin Robert took him from the workhouse, and is bringing him up to his trade."
"From the workhouse!" Nellie exclaimed. "And do you mean to say he lives in your cousin's house?"
Mousey assented, and proceeded to tell all she knew about John Monday, whilst her companion listened with deepening amazement.
"I never heard anything so extraordinary in my life!" Nellie commented. "A workhouse boy!" and there was a world of scorn in her voice.