WITH AUNT ELIZA AND UNCLE DICK
MR. DAWSON, Mousey's Uncle Dick, was a market gardener. His house was
about half a mile from the town where Mousey had spent her short life.
It had been the little girl's greatest pleasure to visit Aunt Eliza
and Uncle Dick, when she had delighted in the gardens, and nurseries
full of seedlings and plants.
Mr. and Mrs. Dawson had six children—the eldest twelve years old, and
the youngest barely nine months—so there were many mouths to feed.
It must not be imagined that Mrs. Dawson was in the least unkind, or
unsympathetic because she was somewhat dismayed at the idea of adding
Mousey to her family; she was fond of her dead sister's child, and
would have shared her last crust with the little orphan, but she felt
that Mr. Harding's offer ought not to be set aside without due
consideration. She wished to do the best she could for her niece, and
was by no means certain it would be right to keep her from her
well-to-do cousin. On talking the matter over with her husband,
they both came to the conclusion that Mousey's prospects in life would
be decidedly more promising if she went to live with Mr. Harding than
if she remained to share the home which was already so full of young
folks. So it was, that one afternoon, a few days after her mother's
funeral, Mrs. Dawson spoke to the little girl seriously about her
future.
"Mousey, I want to have a talk with you," she said kindly. "You know
that your mother's furniture has been sold?"
"Yes, Aunt Eliza," the little girl answered, the tears rising to her
eyes as she thought of the familiar things in the possession
of strangers.
"The furniture has not turned in much money, I'm sorry to say,"
Mrs. Dawson continued, "and unfortunately you've nothing besides.
This morning your uncle had a letter from Cousin Robert, in which he
asks when he may expect you."
"Oh, Aunt Eliza!"
Mrs. Dawson was seated in an easy-chair with the baby upon her lap.
Mousey crept to her side, and looked up into her face with pleading
eyes.
"I wish I could keep you here!" Mrs. Dawson exclaimed, as she put one
arm around her little niece affectionately; "but Cousin Robert can do
much more for you than we can."
"Oh, Aunt Eliza, please don't think of that!"
"But that is what I do think of, my dear. You see, Mousey, we are not
well off, and it would make us miserable if we stood in your way.
We think you ought to accept Cousin Robert's offer—it is really a most
generous and kind one. You will not be far away from us, and you can
always depend upon our love. Besides, you know, even if you had no
Aunt Eliza and Uncle Dick, you would have one Friend on whom to rely."
Mousey looked at her aunt questioningly, her lips quivering, her brown
eyes full of tears.
"I mean that Friend who said, 'Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the
end of the world,'" Mrs. Dawson proceeded; "the Friend in whom your
dear mother trusted above all others, and Who, we are certain,
was with her through the valley of the shadow of death."
There was a brief silence, during which Mousey struggled to overcome
her emotion, and succeeded so far as to presently ask in a resigned
tone—
"When is Uncle Dick going to write to Cousin Robert? Soon?"
"He thinks of doing so to-morrow," Mrs. Dawson responded. "Cousin
Robert is an old man, and I should think he must be very lonely.
He never married, and he has no near relations. His must be a quiet
home; perhaps you will make it brighter. Oh, my dear!" she exclaimed,
as Mousey shook her head, "you must try to be happy there; it seems to
me that there your duty lies. Don't you think that God may have a good
purpose in sending you to Cousin Robert? I do. You don't wish to go?
No, I can understand that, because you cannot see your path marked
plainly for you; yet, there is a Hand stretched out to lead you,
a Hand that will guide you in the right way, in the path of duty,
which, though it may be dark and rugged at first, grows brighter and
smoother the further you tread it."
"Do you really think I ought to go to live with Cousin Robert?" Mousey
inquired wistfully.
"Yes, my dear, I do."
"Then I will go, Aunt Eliza. I—I want to do what is right, but I love
you all so much. I don't know Cousin Robert like I know you and dear
Uncle Dick, and I don't think I like the look of him much."
"You must not judge him by his appearance, child. Be sure he means
to be kind to you, or he would not offer you a home."
"Yes; but he has such a gruff way of speaking, and his eyes are so
bright and sharp that I feel rather afraid of him. Has he a very big
shop, Aunt Eliza?"
"I don't know, but I expect he has, for I have always been given
to understand that he does a large business. You are fond of pretty
things, so you will be interested to see the goods he has for sale."
"Is he very rich, Aunt Eliza?"
"I believe he is. He has never had many expenses, and has lived
a saving life. If he had a wife and children to provide for, like my
husband has, he would not be so well-to-do. What message are you going
to send to Cousin Robert?"
"Please ask Uncle Dick to thank him for being so kind as to want me
to live with him," Mousey responded, after a little consideration,
"and say I will try to please him all I can."
"Yes?"
"And if I go to live with him I hope he will let me come to see you
all sometimes."
"I have no doubt he will. You will only be about thirty miles distant
from us, and that's a very short journey by train. Ah, here is your
uncle!"
Mr. Dawson came in, glancing anxiously from his wife to his niece,
for he knew what had been the subject under discussion. Mousey ran
to him and led him to a chair, after which she perched herself upon
his knees.
"Well, child?" he said questioningly.
"It is decided she is to go to Cousin Robert," his wife answered.
"We have had a long talk, and I think Mousey agrees with us which way
her duty lies."
Uncle Dick's kind blue eyes rested regretfully on the little girl's
face, and he heaved a deep sigh.
"If only I was a richer man, my dear," he said, stroking her hair with
his big, tender hand, "there should be no question of your leaving us.
But I could not afford to spend the money on your education that your
Cousin Robert can, and as you will have to get your own living some
day, I suppose that is a great matter for consideration. I am glad you
see things in their right light; and I believe we're acting as your
poor mother would wish. You'll write to us, and tell us how you're
getting on, and—who knows?—perhaps your aunt and I may find time
to pay you a visit one of these days."
"Oh, I hope you will!" Mousey cried excitedly; "that will be something
to look forward to."
"Be very sure we shall not lose sight of you, my dear child,"
Mrs. Dawson said, with an affectionate smile at her little niece.
"It makes me so unhappy to think of parting from you all," Mousey told
them; "but I should like to do what is right. I wish I knew Cousin
Robert better, because then I should know how to please him. Do you
think he will want to take me away soon?"
"We will ask him to let you remain with us till the end of the month,"
Mrs. Dawson said, whilst her husband nodded approval of her
suggestion; "it is only the third of March now, so if he agrees,
we shall have you with us several weeks longer."
Cousin Robert, when consulted, willingly fell in with this
arrangement; but the time passed all too quickly for Mousey, and one
day, when the wild March winds were giving place to the milder air
of April, came a letter informing the little girl that Cousin Robert
was coming himself, with the intention of taking her home with him,
and would expect to find her in readiness at the time he mentioned.