"Yes, perhaps it does a little."
"Wouldn't you like to live in a pretty house with fine gardens?"
Mousey nodded. She was in capital spirits, and at that moment the thought of her cousin's home did not depress her; on the contrary, she felt eager to return to tell Mr. Harding and Maria what a pleasant afternoon she had spent.
After that, Mousey became a constant visitor at Halcyon Villa. Her friendship with Nellie Thomas strengthened day by day, and was the source of much happiness to both children; but Nellie was never asked to visit Mousey's home, although Mousey was always made welcome and greeted kindly and affectionately by each member of the Thomas household.
[CHAPTER XIII]
JOHN MONDAY IS CONFIDENTIAL
IT was a hot afternoon at the beginning of July. The air was sultry, as though a thunderstorm was not far off; and the sky was enveloped in a haze of grey mist, which, though it hid the sun, made the atmosphere not one whit less oppressive.
John Monday, in charge of his master's shop, was seated on a high stool behind the counter, idly swinging his long legs, and yawning occasionally as though weary of the day. Peering through the dusty window, he saw the street was unusually quiet, for few folks were about, and the children were not yet let loose from the board schools. A couple of babies, old enough to toddle, were playing in the gutter on the opposite side of the way. John Monday watched them with some amusement, and laughed to himself when one put a handful of dust on the other's head. This ill-treatment brought about a quarrel, which was settled by a blow from a small fist that, however, hit sufficiently hard to evoke a yell of mingled wrath and pain from the first offender. The next minute a slatternly woman appeared upon the scene, and after administering a shower of smart slaps on the bare arms of each child, dragged them into a doorway near by, and thus left the street free from any human presence.
John Monday sighed, and wished someone would come into the shop. He slipped off his stool, and going to the door stood on the step gazing up and down the street. At first there was not a living being within sight, but presently a figure appeared around the corner—a big man, clad in a tweed suit, bearing a large market-basket covered with a snowy linen cloth. He was evidently a countryman, judging from his healthy, ruddy countenance, and a stranger in Haughton, the boy decided, as he noted how the big man stared about him.
When the stranger caught sight of John Monday, he quickened his footsteps, and advanced towards him with a good-humoured smile on his face.