"Well, well, perhaps I shall. Here, Maria, take the things upstairs, and put them away—carefully, mind! You won't have occasion to grumble any more."
"I don't think I grumbled without a cause," Maria responded; "you must know that well enough, sir."
"Perhaps I do," he acknowledged, "perhaps I do. What's that you're saying, Mousey?—that you hope it won't rain to-morrow? I suppose you're looking forward to seeing me in my fine clothes, eh?" and he rubbed his hands together in a way habitual to him when he was in a particularly good humour.
Whilst this conversation had been going on, John Monday had remained perfectly silent, watching his master curiously.
"I thought I knew him pretty well," the boy told himself, "but I was wrong. I don't know him yet."
[CHAPTER XVI]
HOW JOHN MONDAY SPENT HIS HALF-CROWN
THE following morning was beautifully fine and bright. The feeling of oppression which had been in the air for several days had cleared away, and the heat of the sun was tempered by a fresh breeze.
Mousey looked at Mr. Harding with satisfaction as she joined him in the parlour preparatory to starting on their usual Sunday morning walk, and found him attired in his new suit of clothes. In his hand he held a new hat in place of the old one. He glanced at the little girl with a humorous twinkle in his eyes as she entered the room.
"One expense brings another," he remarked in his usual gruff tone. "I was worried into buying a new suit of clothes, and I thought I must have a new hat, too."