JOHN MONDAY REAPPEARS UPON THE SCENE
THE thought of John Monday was the one unhappiness which clouded
Mousey's otherwise happy visit. The day after she had received her
cousin's letter, she wrote and tried to explain to him how troubled
she was at the boy's disappearance; and begged Mr. Harding not to
believe that he had left him to join Herbert Hambly. To this letter
she received no reply, as Mr. Harding was anything but pleased that
she did not accept his theory concerning John Monday, and was,
besides, annoyed that she had not condoled with him on the loss of his
money. The truth was, Mousey had thought very little of the burglary
in comparison with its result as affecting her cousin's assistant.
The little girl had been to see her parents' grave several times, and
the day before her visit was to come to an end she went with her aunt
to take a parting look at the spot.
"Oh, Aunt Eliza," she cried, as she stood by the green mound, "if only
she had not died!"
"God knows best, child," Mrs. Dawson answered softly, much touched by
the wistful sadness of Mousey's face.
"It's so kind of Uncle Dick to keep the grave tidy. I wish I could put
up a tombstone with their names, and a verse from the Bible; but I
expect that would cost a lot of money, and it's no good thinking
about it."
They lingered a while longer in the churchyard, and then turned slowly
away. Both were disinclined for conversation, so that they had nearly
reached home, and were actually within sight of the house, before
either spoke. It was Mrs. Dawson who broke the silence by exclaiming—
"Look! What is that boy gazing at, I wonder?"
Mousey raised her eyes, which had been fixed meditatively on the
ground, and saw, peering through the thorn hedge which divided her
uncle's gardens from the road, a shabbily clad boy. He had his back
towards them, so she could not get a glimpse of his face; but there
was something familiar in the attitude of the figure, and the way
the tweed cap was worn on the back of the head.
"Why, Aunt Eliza, I do believe it is John Monday!" the little girl
cried excitedly.
"John Monday!" Mrs. Dawson repeated in astonishment. "Surely you must
be mistaken, my dear! What should bring him here?"
"It is John!" Mousey insisted, running forward impetuously, whilst her
aunt followed at a quieter pace.
"John, how did you come here? What are you doing?"
At the sound of her voice the boy turned hastily. It was indeed John
Monday, but looking so thin and haggard that the little girl uttered
a cry of dismay at his changed appearance. His clothes were covered in
dust, and his feet were almost on the ground, his boots being nearly
without soles. When he saw Mousey and her aunt, his face flushed
painfully, and he appeared inclined at first to run away, but seemed
to think better of it.
"I'm not doing any harm," he said half apologetically; "I was only
watching the men at work in the garden, and wondering if they could
find a job for me."
"It is my uncle's garden," Mousey said; "I suppose you know that?"
"Yes," he assented briefly. "Do you think your uncle could find me
some work?" he questioned, a gleam of hope passing over his
countenance. "I'd do anything! I've been wandering about the country
for weeks, but I haven't been able to get regular employment.
I suppose you knew I had left Mr. Harding's?"
"Yes. Why did you go, John? I'm sure Cousin Robert would have forgiven
you if you had stayed."
The boy shook his head. There was a weary expression on his face which
Mrs. Dawson noticed with a thrill of sympathy.
"Are you hungry?" she asked abruptly.
"I haven't had a morsel of food inside my lips since yesterday
morning," he replied; "but I didn't come to beg," he added hastily,
whilst Mousey uttered an exclamation of mingled horror and pity.
"I thought perhaps Mr. Dawson might be able to find me some work."
"Come inside," said Mrs. Dawson.
She led the way into the house, and seating the boy at the kitchen
table, gave him a plate of bread and meat. He thanked her gratefully,
and began to eat, whilst Mousey watched him with sympathetic eyes; and
Mrs. Dawson turned to the fireplace to see if the kettle was nearly on
the boil. It was, and in a few minutes she set before her visitor a
strong cup of tea, which refreshed him even more than the food.
"John, you didn't go away with Herbert Hambly, did you?" Mousey
questioned anxiously when he had finished his meal.
"No, no! What makes you ask that?"
"Because Cousin Robert thinks you did."
"But I told Mr. Harding I never saw Herbert Hambly after he got rid
of him when he called to see me the last time at the shop. How could
he believe I had gone away with him?"
"I suppose he thought you hadn't told the truth."
"I did tell him the truth," the boy declared with such earnestness
that neither of his hearers doubted his words. "He had a perfect right
to be angry, but I couldn't stand the hard, bitter things he said to
me, although I may have deserved them. I'd rather go hungry, and sleep
by the side of a hedge, than go back to him, that I would!"
"Mousey, run and tell your uncle I want him in here," Mrs. Dawson said
quietly; "and do you remain where you are," she added, turning to John
Monday, who had risen to his feet.
"Thank you, ma'am," he replied, as he sat down again. "I'm afraid
I'm very dusty and dirty, not fit to be seen, and that makes it all
the kinder of you to treat me like this."
Mousey soon found her uncle, and he accompanied her to the kitchen.
John Monday, fully conscious of his disreputable appearance, rose,
and stood bashfully before the master of the house, whose usually
good-humoured countenance was now very grave and stern.
"Well, young man, what has brought you here?" he commenced; then, as
the boy made no answer, only hung his head in confusion, he motioned
to his wife to go away, and take Mousey with her.
Half an hour later Mr. Dawson came into the sitting-room, where the
family was assembled, and met his wife's anxious, inquiring
countenance with a smile.
"Well, my dear," he said, "I suppose you want to know what I'm going
to do with John Monday? I've had a long, serious talk with him, and
the result is, he has promised me that if Mr. Harding wishes him to
return he will do so; on the other hand, if Mr. Harding does not wish
to have him back, I am going to give him a trial myself. You know I've
been wanting a lad to look after the pony, and go around to the houses
in the town with the cart sometimes; in short, one who will make
himself generally useful about the place."
"But do you think he is to be trusted?" Mrs. Dawson asked dubiously.
"That will have to be proved, my dear. Anyway, I mean to see what he
is made of, if Mr. Harding does not want him again. I think my best
plan will be to go to Haughton with Mousey to-morrow, and have a
personal interview with your cousin."
"Yes, perhaps that would be best," his wife agreed.
"You see, I should not like to employ the lad without first coming
to a thorough understanding with Mr. Harding."
"No, of course not. Where is the boy now?"
"In the yard, having a wash at the pump. Poor lad! He has roughed it
lately without a doubt. He'll have to sleep in the loft to-night.
If it is decided he's to remain, I dare say I can find him a lodging
with one of the men. I hope you think I have acted rightly, Eliza?
I could not send the boy away."
"No, no!" Mrs. Dawson exclaimed, meeting her husband's glance with a
tender smile which lent real beauty to her homely countenance. "You
mustn't imagine I disapprove of what you've done; and you can see by
Mousey's face what she thinks about it."
Mr. Dawson turned an inquiring look upon the little girl. She ran
to him and kissed him again and again, calling him the dearest,
kindest of uncles, till he laughingly pushed her away from him, and
went to look after the lad he had taken under his protection.