"You well know, Cousin Robert, that my husband is only a struggling man in a small way of business, and not able to promise much for Mousey; but she shall share with our children, if there is nothing better in store for her."
"And if there is something better in store for her, eh?"
Aunt Eliza glanced at the old man questioningly, but made no reply.
"What if I offer Mousey a home?" he proceeded. "What if I promise to board, feed, clothe, and educate the child?"
"Do you really mean that?" Aunt Eliza asked in astonishment.
"I do. It is not an ungenerous offer, I take it!" and Mr. Harding looked around at his relations as though courting their approval, which he received with a gratified smile that deepened the wrinkles on his withered countenance.
Mousey, who had seated herself on the horse-hair sofa, clung to her aunt in great agitation, and whispered pleadingly—
"Oh, I would so much rather live with you and Uncle Dick, and I will share with my cousins—only, they shall have the best of everything, and I will always do what you tell me—and—and—"
The little girl broke down completely, and hid her tear-stained face against her aunt's shoulder.
"The last few days have been too much for her," remarked Uncle Dick, glancing apprehensively at Mr. Harding, who nodded, and tapped one foot impatiently on the floor.