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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Paul Prescott's Charge, by Horatio Alger
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Paul Prescott's Charge
+
+Author: Horatio Alger
+
+Release Date: March 14, 2006 [EBook #293]
+Last Updated: March 3, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAUL PRESCOTT'S CHARGE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer and David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+PAUL PRESCOTT'S CHARGE.
+
+By Horatio Alger, Jr.
+
+
+
+Alger Series For Boys. {About 50 Titles} Uniform With This Volume.
+
+
+     TO
+     The Boys
+     Whose Memory Goes Back With Me
+     To The Boarding School
+     At Potowome
+     This Volume Is Affectionately Dedicated
+     By
+     The Author.
+
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+“PAUL PRESCOTT'S CHARGE” is presented to the public as the second volume
+of the Campaign Series. Though wholly unlike the first volume, it is
+written in furtherance of the same main idea, that every boy's life is
+a campaign, more or less difficult, in which success depends upon
+integrity and a steadfast adherence to duty.
+
+How Paul Prescott gained strength by battling with adverse
+circumstances, and, under all discouragements, kept steadily before him
+the charge which he received from his dying father, is fully told; and
+the author will be glad if the record shall prove an incentive and an
+encouragement to those boys who may have a similar campaign before them.
+
+
+
+
+PAUL PRESCOTT'S CHARGE.
+
+
+
+
+I.
+
+SQUIRE NEWCOME.
+
+
+“HANNAH!”
+
+The speaker was a tall, pompous-looking man, whose age appeared to verge
+close upon fifty. He was sitting bolt upright in a high-backed chair,
+and looked as if it would be quite impossible to deviate from his
+position of unbending rigidity.
+
+Squire Benjamin Newcome, as he was called, in the right of his position
+as Justice of the Peace, Chairman of the Selectmen, and wealthiest
+resident of Wrenville, was a man of rule and measure. He was measured
+in his walk, measured in his utterance, and measured in all his
+transactions. He might be called a dignified machine. He had a very
+exalted conception of his own position, and the respect which he felt to
+be his due, not only from his own household, but from all who approached
+him. If the President of the United States had called upon him, Squire
+Newcome would very probably have felt that he himself was the party who
+conferred distinction, and not received it.
+
+Squire Newcome was a widower. His wife, who was as different from
+himself as could well be conceived, did not live long after marriage.
+She was chilled to death, as it was thought, by the dignified iceberg
+of whose establishment she had become a part. She had left, however, a
+child, who had now grown to be a boy of twelve. This boy was a thorn
+in the side of his father, who had endeavored in vain to mould him
+according to his idea of propriety. But Ben was gifted with a spirit of
+fun, sometimes running into mischief, which was constantly bursting out
+in new directions, in spite of his father's numerous and rather prosy
+lectures.
+
+“Han-nah!” again called Squire Newcome, separating the two syllables by
+a pause of deliberation, and strongly accenting the last syllable,--a
+habit of his with all proper names.
+
+Hannah was the Irish servant of all work, who was just then engaged in
+mixing up bread in the room adjoining, which was the kitchen.
+
+Feeling a natural reluctance to appear before her employer with her
+hands covered with dough, she hastily washed them. All this, however,
+took time, and before she responded to the first summons, the second
+“Han-nah!” delivered with a little sharp emphasis, had been uttered.
+
+At length she appeared at the door of the sitting-room.
+
+“Han-nah!” said Squire Newcome, fixing his cold gray eye upon her, “when
+you hear my voice a calling you, it is your duty to answer the summons
+IMMEJIATELY.”
+
+I have endeavored to represent the Squire's pronunciation of the last
+word.
+
+“So I would have come IMMEJOUSLY,” said Hannah, displaying a most
+reprehensible ignorance, “but me hands were all covered with flour.”
+
+“That makes no difference,” interrupted the Squire. “Flour is an
+accidental circumstance.”
+
+“What's that?” thought Hannah, opening her eyes in amazement.
+
+“And should not be allowed to interpose an obstacle to an IMMEJIATE
+answer to my summons.”
+
+“Sir,” said Hannah, who guessed at the meaning though she did not
+understand the words, “you wouldn't have me dirty the door-handle with
+me doughy hands?”
+
+“That could easily be remedied by ablution.”
+
+“There ain't any ablution in the house,” said the mystified Hannah.
+
+“I mean,” Squire Newcome condescended to explain, “the application of
+water--in short, washing.”
+
+“Shure,” said Hannah, as light broke in upon her mind, “I never knew
+that was what they called it before.”
+
+“Is Ben-ja-min at home?”
+
+“Yes, sir. He was out playin' in the yard a minute ago. I guess you can
+see him from the winder.”
+
+So saying she stepped forward, and looking out, all at once gave a
+shrill scream, and rushed from the room, leaving her employer in his
+bolt-upright attitude gazing after her with as much astonishment as he
+was capable of.
+
+The cause of her sudden exit was revealed on looking out of the window.
+
+Master Benjamin, or Ben, as he was called everywhere except in his
+own family, had got possession of the black kitten, and appeared to be
+submerging her in the hogshead of rainwater.
+
+“O, you wicked, cruel boy, to drown poor Kitty!” exclaimed the indignant
+Hannah, rushing into the yard and endeavoring to snatch her feline
+favorite--an attempt which Ben stoutly resisted.
+
+Doubtless the poor kitten would have fared badly between the two, had
+not the window opened, and the deliberate voice of his father, called
+out in tones which Ben saw fit to heed.
+
+“What?”
+
+“Come into my presence immejiately, and learn to answer me with more
+respect.”
+
+Ben came in looking half defiant.
+
+His father, whose perpendicularity made him look like a sitting
+grenadier, commenced the examination thus:--
+
+“I wish you to inform me what you was a doing of when I spoke to you.”
+
+It will be observed that the Squire's dignified utterances were
+sometimes a little at variance with the rule of the best modern
+grammarians.
+
+“I was trying to prevent Hannah from taking the kitten,” said Ben.
+
+“What was you a doing of before Hannah went out?”
+
+“Playing with Kitty.”
+
+“Why were you standing near the hogshead, Benjamin?”
+
+“Why,” said Ben, ingenuously, “the hogshead happened to be near me--that
+was all.”
+
+“Were you not trying to drown the kitten?”
+
+“O, I wouldn't drown her for anything,” said Ben with an injured
+expression, mentally adding, “short of a three-cent piece.”
+
+“Then, to repeat my interrogatory, what was you a doing of with the
+kitten in the hogshead?”
+
+“I was teaching her to swim,” said Ben, looking out of the corner of
+his eye at his father, to see what impression this explanation made upon
+him.
+
+“And what advantageous result do you think would be brought about by
+teaching of the kitten to swim, Benjamin?” persisted his father.
+
+“Advantageous result!” repeated Ben, demurely, pretending not to
+understand.
+
+“Certingly.”
+
+“What does that mean?”
+
+“Do you not study your dictionary at school, Benjamin?”
+
+“Yes, but I don't like it much.”
+
+“You are very much in error. You will never learn to employ your tongue
+with elegance and precision, unless you engage in this beneficial
+study.”
+
+“I can use my tongue well enough, without studying grammar,” said Ben.
+He proceeded to illustrate the truth of this assertion by twisting his
+tongue about in a comical manner.
+
+“Tongue,” exclaimed his father, “is but another name for language I mean
+your native language.”
+
+“Oh!”
+
+Ben was about to leave the room to avoid further questions of an
+embarrassing nature, when his father interrupted his exit by saying--
+
+“Stay, Benjamin, do not withdraw till I have made all the inquiries
+which I intend.”
+
+The boy unwillingly returned.
+
+“You have not answered my question.”
+
+“I've forgotten what it was.”
+
+“What good would it do?” asked the Squire, simplifying his speech to
+reach Ben's comprehension, “what good would it do to teach the kitten to
+swim?”
+
+“O, I thought,” said Ben, hesitating, “that some time or other she might
+happen to fall into the water, and might not be able to get out unless
+she knew how.”
+
+“I think,” said his father with an unusual display of sagacity, “that
+she will be in much greater hazard of drowning while learning to swim
+under your direction than by any other chance likely to befall her.”
+
+“Shouldn't wonder,” was Ben's mental comment, “Pretty cute for you,
+dad.”
+
+Fortunately, Ben did not express his thoughts aloud. They would have
+implied such an utter lack of respect that the Squire would have been
+quite overwhelmed by the reflection that his impressive manners had
+produced no greater effect on one who had so excellent a chance of being
+impressed by them.
+
+“Benjamin,” concluded his father, “I have an errand for you to execute.
+You may go to Mr. Prescott's and see if he is yet living. I hear that he
+is a lying on the brink of the grave.”
+
+An expression of sadness stole over the usually merry face of Ben, as he
+started on his errand.
+
+“Poor Paul!” he thought, “what will he do when his father dies? He's
+such a capital fellow, too. I just wish I had a wagon load of money, I
+do, and I'd give him half. That's so!”
+
+
+
+
+II.
+
+PAUL PRESCOTT'S HOME.
+
+
+We will precede Ben on his visit to the house of Mr. Prescott.
+
+It was an old weather-beaten house, of one story, about half a mile
+distant from 'Squire Newcome's residence. The Prescott family had lived
+here for five years, or ever since they had removed to Wrenville. Until
+within a year they had lived comfortably, when two blows came in quick
+succession. The first was the death of Mrs. Prescott, an excellent
+woman, whose loss was deeply felt by her husband and son. Soon
+afterwards Mr. Prescott, a carpenter by trade, while at work upon the
+roof of a high building, fell off, and not only broke his leg badly, but
+suffered some internal injury of a still more serious nature. He had
+not been able to do a stroke of work since. After some months it became
+evident that he would never recover. A year had now passed. During
+this time his expenses had swallowed up the small amount which he had
+succeeded in laying up previous to his sickness. It was clear that at
+his death there would be nothing left. At thirteen years of age Paul
+would have to begin the world without a penny.
+
+Mr. Prescott lay upon a bed in a small bedroom adjoining the kitchen.
+Paul, a thoughtful-looking boy sat beside it, ready to answer his call.
+
+There had been silence for some time, when Mr. Prescott called feebly--
+
+“Paul!”
+
+“I am here, father,” said Paul.
+
+“I am almost gone, Paul, I don't think I shall last through the day.”
+
+“O, father,” said Paul, sorrowfully, “Don't leave me.”
+
+“That is the only grief I have in dying--I must leave you to struggle
+for yourself, Paul. I shall be able to leave you absolutely nothing.”
+
+“Don't think of that, father. I am young and strong--I can earn my
+living in some way.”
+
+“I hoped to live long enough to give you an education. I wanted you to
+have a fairer start in the world than I had.”
+
+“Never mind, father,” said Paul, soothingly, “Don't be uneasy about me.
+God will provide for me.”
+
+Again there was a silence, broken only by the difficult breathing of the
+sick man.
+
+He spoke again.
+
+“There is one thing, Paul, that I want to tell you before I die.”
+
+Paul drew closer to the bedside.
+
+“It is something which has troubled me as I lay here. I shall feel
+easier for speaking of it. You remember that we lived at Cedarville
+before we came here.”
+
+“Yes, father.”
+
+“About two years before we left there, a promising speculation was
+brought to my notice. An agent of a Lake Superior mine visited our
+village and represented the mine in so favorable a light that many of
+my neighbors bought shares, fully expecting to double their money in a
+year. Among the rest I was attacked with the fever of speculation. I had
+always been obliged to work hard for a moderate compensation, and had
+not been able to do much more than support my family. This it seemed to
+me, afforded an excellent opportunity of laying up a little something
+which might render me secure in the event of a sudden attack of
+sickness. I had but about two hundred dollars, however, and from so
+scanty an investment I could not, of course, expect a large return;
+accordingly I went to Squire Conant; you remember him, Paul?”
+
+“Yes, father.”
+
+'I went to him and asked a loan of five hundred dollars. After some
+hesitation he agreed to lend it to me. He was fond of his money and not
+much given to lending, but it so happened that he had invested in the
+same speculation, and had a high opinion of it, so he felt pretty
+safe in advancing me the money. Well, this loan gave me seven hundred
+dollars, with which I purchased seven shares in the Lake Superior Grand
+Combination Mining Company. For some months afterwards, I felt like a
+rich man. I carefully put away my certificate of stock, looking upon
+it as the beginning of a competence. But at the end of six months the
+bubble burst--the stock proved to be utterly worthless,--Squire Conant
+lost five thousand dollars. I lost seven hundred, five hundred being
+borrowed money. The Squire's loss was much larger, but mine was the more
+serious, since I lost everything and was plunged into debt, while he had
+at least forty thousand dollars left.
+
+“Two days after the explosion, Squire Conant came into my shop and asked
+abruptly when I could pay him the amount I had borrowed. I told him that
+I could not fix a time. I said that I had been overwhelmed by a result
+so contrary to my anticipations, but I told him I would not rest till I
+had done something to satisfy his claim. He was always an unreasonable
+man, and reproached me bitterly for sinking his money in a useless
+speculation, as if I could foresee how it would end any better than he.”
+
+“Have you ever been able to pay back any part of the five hundred
+dollars, father?”
+
+“I have paid the interest regularly, and a year ago, just before I met
+with my accident, I had laid up a hundred and fifty dollars which I had
+intended to pay the Squire, but when my sickness came I felt obliged to
+retain it to defray our expenses, being cut off from earning anything.”
+
+“Then I suppose you have not been able to pay interest for the last
+year.”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Have you heard from the Squire lately?”
+
+“Yes, I had a letter only last week. You remember bringing me one
+postmarked Cedarville?”
+
+“Yes, I wondered at the time who it could be from.”
+
+“You will find it on the mantelpiece. I should like to have you get it
+and read it.”
+
+Paul readily found the letter. It was enclosed in a brown envelope,
+directed in a bold hand to “Mr. John Prescott, Wrenville.”
+
+The letter was as follows:--
+
+
+CEDARVILLE, APRIL 15, 18--,
+
+MR. JOHN PRESCOTT:--
+
+SIR: I have been waiting impatiently to hear something about the five
+hundred dollars in which sum you are indebted to me, on account of a
+loan which I was fool enough to make you seven years since. I thought
+you an honest man, but I have found, to my cost, that I was mistaken.
+For the last year you have even failed to pay interest as stipulated
+between us. Your intention is evident. I quite understand that you have
+made up your mind to defraud me of what is rightfully mine. I don't know
+how you may regard this, but I consider it as bad as highway robbery. I
+do not hesitate to say that if you had your deserts you would be in the
+Penitentiary. Let me advise you, if you wish to avoid further trouble,
+to make no delay in paying a portion of this debt. Yours, etc. EZEKIEL
+CONANT.
+
+
+Paul's face flushed with indignation as he read this bitter and cruel
+letter.
+
+“Does Squire Conant know that you are sick, father?” he inquired.
+
+“Yes, I wrote him about my accident, telling him at the same time that
+I regretted it in part on account of the interruption which it must
+occasion in my payments.”
+
+“And knowing this, he wrote such a letter as that,” said Paul,
+indignantly, “what a hard, unfeeling wretch he must be!”
+
+“I suppose it is vexatious to him to be kept out of his money.”
+
+“But he has plenty more. He would never miss it if he had given it to
+you outright.”
+
+“That is not the way to look at it, Paul. The money is justly his, and
+it is a great sorrow to me that I must die without paying it.”
+
+“Father,” said Paul, after a pause, “will it be any relief to you, if I
+promise to pay it,--that is, if I am ever able?”
+
+Mr. Prescott's face brightened.
+
+“That was what I wanted to ask you, Paul. It will be a comfort to me to
+feel that there is some hope of the debt being paid at some future day.”
+
+“Then don't let it trouble you any longer, father. The debt shall be
+mine, and I will pay it.”
+
+Again a shadow passed over the sick man's face, “Poor boy,” he said,
+“why should I burden your young life with such a load? You will have to
+struggle hard enough as it is. No, Paul, recall your promise. I don't
+want to purchase comfort at such a price.”
+
+“No, father,” said Paul sturdily, “it is too late now. I have made the
+promise and I mean to stick to it. Besides, it will give me something
+to live for. I am young--I may have a great many years before me. For
+thirteen years you have supported me. It is only right that I should
+make what return I can. I'll keep my promise, father.”
+
+“May God help and prosper you, my boy,” said Mr. Prescott, solemnly.
+“You've been a good son; I pray that you may grow up to be a good man.
+But, my dear, I feel tired. I think I will try to go to sleep.”
+
+Paul smoothed the comforter, adjusting it carefully about his father's
+neck, and going to the door went out in search of some wood to place
+upon the fire. Their scanty stock of firewood was exhausted, and Paul
+was obliged to go into the woods near by, to obtain such loose fagots as
+he might find upon the ground.
+
+He was coming back with his load when his attention was drawn by a
+whistle. Looking up he discovered Ben Newcome approaching him.
+
+“How are you, Paul?”
+
+“Pretty well, Ben.”
+
+“How precious lonesome you must be, mewed up in the house all the time.”
+
+“Yes, it is lonesome, but I wouldn't mind that if I thought father would
+ever get any better.”
+
+“How is he this morning?”
+
+“Pretty low; I expect he is asleep. He said he was tired just before I
+went out.”
+
+“I brought over something for you,” said Ben, tugging away at his
+pocket.
+
+Opening a paper he displayed a couple of apple turnovers fried brown.
+
+“I found 'em in the closet,” he said.
+
+“Won't Hannah make a precious row when she finds 'em gone?”
+
+“Then I don't know as I ought to take them,” said Paul, though, to tell
+the truth, they looked tempting to him.
+
+“O, nonsense,” said Ben; “they don't belong to Hannah. She only likes to
+scold a little; it does her good.”
+
+The two boys sat on the doorstep and talked while Paul ate the
+turnovers. Ben watched the process with much satisfaction.
+
+“Ain't they prime?” he said.
+
+“First rate,” said Paul; “won't you have one?”
+
+“No,” said Ben; “you see I thought while I was about it I might as well
+take four, so I ate two coming along.”
+
+In about fifteen minutes Paul went into the house to look at his father.
+He was lying very quietly upon the bed. Paul drew near and looked at him
+more closely. There was something in the expression of his father's face
+which terrified him.
+
+Ben heard his sudden cry of dismay, and hurriedly entered.
+
+Paul pointed to the bed, and said briefly, “Father's dead!”
+
+Ben, who in spite of his mischievous propensities was gifted with a warm
+heart, sat down beside Paul, and passing his arm round his neck,
+gave him that silent sympathy which is always so grateful to the
+grief-stricken heart.
+
+
+
+
+
+III.
+
+PAUL'S BRILLIANT PROSPECTS.
+
+
+Two days later, the funeral of Mr. Prescott took place.
+
+Poor Paul! It seemed to him a dream of inexpressible sorrow. His father
+and mother both gone, he felt that he was indeed left alone in the
+world. No thought of the future had yet entered his mind. He was wholly
+occupied with his present sorrow. Desolate at heart he slipped away from
+the graveyard after the funeral ceremony was over, and took his way back
+again to the lonely dwelling which he had called home.
+
+As he was sitting in the corner, plunged in sorrowful thought, there was
+a scraping heard at the door, and a loud hem!
+
+Looking up, Paul saw entering the cottage the stiff form of Squire
+Benjamin Newcome, who, as has already been stated, was the owner.
+
+“Paul,” said the Squire, with measured deliberation.
+
+“Do you mean me, sir?” asked Paul, vaguely conscious that his name had
+been called.
+
+“Did I not address you by your baptismal appellation?” demanded the
+Squire, who thought the boy's question superfluous.
+
+“Paul,” pursued Squire Newcome, “have you thought of your future
+destination?”
+
+“No, sir,” said Paul, “I suppose I shall live here.”
+
+“That arrangement would not be consistent with propriety. I suppose you
+are aware that your deceased parent left little or no worldly goods.”
+
+“I know he was poor.”
+
+“Therefore it has been thought best that you should be placed in charge
+of a worthy man, who I see is now approaching the house. You will
+therefore accompany him without resistance. If you obey him and read the
+Bible regularly, you will--ahem!--you will some time or other see the
+advantage of it.”
+
+With this consolatory remark Squire Newcome wheeled about and strode out
+of the house.
+
+Immediately afterwards there entered a rough-looking man arrayed in a
+farmer's blue frock.
+
+“You're to come with me, youngster,” said Mr. Nicholas Mudge, for that
+was his name.
+
+“With you?” said Paul, recoiling instinctively.
+
+In fact there was nothing attractive in the appearance or manners of
+Mr. Mudge. He had a coarse hard face, while his head was surmounted by
+a shock of red hair, which to all appearance had suffered little
+interference from the comb for a time which the observer would scarcely
+venture to compute. There was such an utter absence of refinement about
+the man, that Paul, who had been accustomed to the gentle manners of his
+father, was repelled by the contrast which this man exhibited.
+
+“To be sure you're to go with me,” said Mr. Mudge. “You did not
+calc'late you was a goin' to stay here by yourself, did you? We've got a
+better place for you than that. But the wagon's waitin' outside, so just
+be lively and bundle in, and I'll carry you to where you're a goin' to
+live.”
+
+“Where's that?”
+
+“Wal, some folks call it the Poor House, but it ain't any the worse for
+that, I expect. Anyhow, them as has no money may feel themselves lucky
+to get so good a home. So jest be a movin', for I can't be a waitin'
+here all day.”
+
+Paul quietly submitted himself to the guidance of Mr. Mudge. He was so
+occupied with the thought of his sad loss that he did not realize the
+change that was about to take place in his circumstances.
+
+About half a mile from the village in the bleakest and most desolate
+part of the town, stood the Poor House. It was a crazy old building of
+extreme antiquity, which, being no longer considered fit for an ordinary
+dwelling-house, had been selected as a suitable residence for the town's
+poor. It was bleak and comfortless to be sure, but on that very account
+had been purchased at a trifling expense, and that was, of course, a
+primary consideration. Connected with the house were some dozen acres of
+rough-looking land, plentifully overspread with stones, which might have
+filled with despair the most enterprising agriculturist. However, it had
+this recommendation at least, that it was quite in character with the
+buildings upon it, which in addition to the house already described,
+consisted of a barn of equal antiquity and a pig pen.
+
+This magnificent domain was under the superintendence of Mr. Nicholas
+Mudge, who in consideration of taking charge of the town paupers had
+the use of the farm and buildings, rent free, together with a stipulated
+weekly sum for each of the inmates.
+
+“Well, Paul,” said Mr. Mudge, as they approached the house, in a tone
+which was meant to be encouraging, “this is goin' to be your home. How
+do you like it?”
+
+Thus addressed, Paul ventured a glance around him.
+
+“I don't know,” said he, doubtfully; “it don't look very pleasant.”
+
+“Don't look very pleasant!” repeated Mr. Mudge in a tone of mingled
+amazement and indignation. “Well, there's gratitude for you. After the
+town has been at the expense of providin' a nice, comfortable home for
+you, because you haven't got any of your own, you must turn up your nose
+at it.”
+
+“I didn't mean to complain,” said Paul, feeling very little interest in
+the matter.
+
+“Perhaps you expected to live in a marble palace,” pursued Mr. Mudge, in
+an injured tone. “We don't have any marble palaces in this neighborhood,
+we don't.”
+
+Paul disclaimed any such anticipation.
+
+Mr. Mudge deigned to accept Paul's apology, and as they had now reached
+the door, unceremoniously threw it open, and led the way into a room
+with floor unpainted, which, to judge from its appearance, was used as a
+kitchen.
+
+
+
+
+IV.
+
+LIFE IN A NEW PHASE.
+
+
+Everything was “at sixes and sevens,” as the saying is, in the room Mr.
+Mudge and Paul had just entered. In the midst of the scene was a large
+stout woman, in a faded calico dress, and sleeves rolled up, working as
+if her life or the world's destiny depended upon it.
+
+It was evident from the first words of Mr. Mudge that this lady was his
+helpmeet.
+
+“Well, wife,” he said, “I've brought you another boarder. You must try
+to make him as happy and contented as the rest of 'em are.”
+
+From the tone of the speaker, the last words might be understood to be
+jocular.
+
+Mrs. Mudge, whose style of beauty was not improved by a decided squint,
+fixed a scrutinizing gaze upon Paul, and he quite naturally returned it.
+
+“Haven't you ever seen anybody before, boy? I guess you'll know me next
+time.”
+
+“Shouldn't wonder if he did,” chuckled Mr. Mudge.
+
+“I don't know where on earth we shall put him,” remarked the lady.
+“We're full now.”
+
+“Oh, put him anywhere. I suppose you won't be very particular about your
+accommodations?” said Mr. Mudge turning to Paul.
+
+Paul very innocently answered in the negative, thereby affording Mr.
+Mudge not a little amusement.
+
+“Well, that's lucky,” he said, “because our best front chamber's
+occupied just now. We'd have got it ready for you if you'd only wrote a
+week ago to tell us you were coming. You can just stay round here,” he
+said in a different tone as he was about leaving the room, “Mrs. Mudge
+will maybe want you to do something for her. You can sit down till she
+calls on you.”
+
+It was washing day with Mrs. Mudge, and of course she was extremely
+busy. The water was to be brought from a well in the yard, and to this
+office Paul was at once delegated. It was no easy task, the full pails
+tugging most unmercifully at his arms. However, this was soon over, and
+Mrs. Mudge graciously gave him permission to go into the adjoining room,
+and make acquaintance with his fellow-boarders.
+
+There were nine of them in all, Paul, the newcomer making the tenth.
+They were all advanced in years, except one young woman, who was
+prevented by mental aberration from supporting herself outside the walls
+of the Institution.
+
+Of all present, Paul's attention was most strongly attracted towards one
+who appeared more neatly and scrupulously attired than any of the rest.
+
+Aunt Lucy Lee, or plain Aunt Lucy, for in her present abode she had
+small use for her last name, was a benevolent-looking old lady, who both
+in dress and manners was distinguished from her companions. She rose
+from her knitting, and kindly took Paul by the hand. Children are
+instinctive readers of character, and Paul, after one glance at her
+benevolent face, seated himself contentedly beside her.
+
+“I suppose,” said the old lady, socially, “you've come to live with
+us. We must do all we can to make you comfortable. Your name is Paul
+Prescott, I think Mrs. Mudge said.”
+
+“Yes, ma'am,” answered Paul, watching the rapid movement of the old
+lady's fingers.
+
+“Mine is Aunt Lucy,” she continued, “that is what everybody calls me.
+So now we know each other, and shall soon be good friends, I hope. I
+suppose you have hardly been here long enough to tell how you shall like
+it.”
+
+Paul confessed that thus far he did not find it very pleasant.
+
+“No, I dare say not,” said Aunt Lucy, “I can't say I think it looks very
+attractive myself. However, it isn't wholly the fault of Mr. and Mrs.
+Mudge. They can't afford to do much better, for the town allows them
+very little.”
+
+Aunt Lucy's remarks were here interrupted by the apparition of the
+worthy landlady at the door.
+
+“Dinner's ready, folks,” said that lady, with little ceremony, “and you
+must come out quick if you want any, for I'm drove with work, and can't
+be hindered long.”
+
+The summons was obeyed with alacrity, and the company made all haste to
+the dining-room, or rather the kitchen, for it was here that the meals
+were eaten.
+
+In the center of the room was set a table without a cloth, a table-cloth
+being considered a luxury quite superfluous. Upon this were placed
+several bowls of thin, watery liquid, intended for soup, but which, like
+city milk, was diluted so as hardly to be distinguishable. Beside each
+bowl was a slice of bread.
+
+Such was the bill of fare.
+
+“Now, folks, the sooner you fall to the better,” exclaimed the energetic
+Mrs. Mudge, who was one of those driving characters, who consider any
+time spent at the table beyond ten minutes as so much time wasted.
+
+The present company appeared to need no second invitation. Their
+scanty diet had the positive advantage of giving them a good appetite;
+otherwise the quality of their food might have daunted them.
+
+Paul took his place beside Aunt Lucy. Mechanically he did as the rest,
+carrying to his mouth a spoonful of the liquid. But his appetite was not
+sufficiently accustomed to Poor House regime to enable him to relish its
+standing dish, and he laid down his spoon with a disappointed look.
+
+He next attacked the crust of bread, but found it too dry to be
+palatable.
+
+“Please, ma'am,” said he to Mrs. Mudge, “I should like some butter.”
+
+Paul's companions dropped their spoons in astonishment at his daring,
+and Mrs. Mudge let fall a kettle she was removing from the fire, in
+sheer amazement.
+
+“What did you ask for?” she inquired, as if to make sure that her ears
+did not deceive her.
+
+“A little butter,” repeated Paul, unconscious of the great presumption
+of which he had been guilty.
+
+“You want butter, do you?” repeated Mr. Mudge. “Perhaps you'd like a
+slice of beefsteak and a piece of plum-pudding too, wouldn't you?”
+
+“I should very much,” said Paul, resolved to tell the truth, although he
+now began to perceive the sarcasm in his landlady's tone.
+
+“There isn't anything more you would like, is there?” inquired the lady,
+with mock politeness.
+
+“No, ma'am,” returned Paul after a pause, “I believe not, to-day.”
+
+“Very moderate, upon my word,” exclaimed Mrs. Mudge, giving vent at
+length to her pentup indignation. “You'll be contented with butter and
+roast beef and plum-pudding! A mighty fine gentleman, to be sure. But
+you won't get them here, I'll be bound.”
+
+“So will I,” thought Aunt Lucy.
+
+“If you ain't satisfied with what I give you,” pursued Mrs. Mudge,
+“you'd better go somewhere else. You can put up at some of the great
+hotels. Butter, forsooth!”
+
+Having thus given expression to her feelings, she left the room, and
+Paul was left to finish his dinner with the best appetite he could
+command. He was conscious that he had offended Mrs. Mudge, but the
+thoughts of his recent great sorrow swallowed up all minor annoyances,
+so that the words of his estimable landlady were forgotten almost as
+soon as they were uttered. He felt that he must henceforth look for far
+different treatment from that to which he had been accustomed during his
+father's lifetime.
+
+His thoughts were interrupted in a manner somewhat ludicrous, by the
+crazy girl who sat next to him coolly appropriating to herself his bowl
+of soup, having already disposed of her own.
+
+“Look,” said Aunt Lucy, quickly, calling Paul's attention, “you are
+losing your dinner.”
+
+“Never mind,” said Paul, amused in spite of his sadness, “she is quite
+welcome to it if she likes it; I can't eat it.”
+
+So the dinner began and ended. It was very brief and simple, occupying
+less than ten minutes, and comprising only one course--unless the soup
+was considered the first course, and the bread the second. Paul left
+the table as hungry as he came to it. Aunt Lucy's appetite had become
+accustomed to the Mudge diet, and she wisely ate what was set before
+her, knowing that there was no hope of anything better.
+
+About an hour after dinner Ben Newcome came to the door of the Poor
+House and inquired for Paul.
+
+Mrs. Mudge was in one of her crusty moods.
+
+“You can't see him,” said she.
+
+“And why not?” said Ben, resolutely.
+
+“Because he's busy.”
+
+“You'd better let me see him,” said Ben, sturdily.
+
+“I should like to know what's going to happen if I don't,” said Mrs.
+Mudge, with wrathful eyes, and arms akimbo.
+
+“I shall go home and report to my father,” said Ben, coolly.
+
+“Who is your father?” asked Mrs. Mudge, for she did not recognize her
+visitor.
+
+“My father's name is Newcome--Squire Newcome, some call him.”
+
+Now it so happened that Squire Newcome was Chairman of the Overseers of
+the Poor, and in that capacity might remove Mr. Mudge from office if he
+pleased. Accordingly Mrs. Mudge softened down at once, on learning that
+Ben was his son.
+
+“Oh,” said she, “I didn't know who it was. I thought it might be some
+idle boy from the village who would only take Paul from his work, but if
+you have a message from your father----”
+
+This she said to ascertain whether he really had any message or not, but
+Ben, who had in fact come without his father's knowledge, only bowed,
+and said, in a patronizing manner, “I accept your apology, Mrs. Mudge.
+Will you have the goodness to send Paul out?”
+
+“Won't you step in?” asked Mrs. Mudge with unusual politeness.
+
+“No, I believe not.”
+
+Paul was accordingly sent out.
+
+He was very glad to meet his schoolmate and playfellow, Ben, who by his
+gayety, spiced though it was with roguery, had made himself a general
+favorite in school.
+
+“I say, Paul,” said Ben, “I'm sorry to find you in such a place.”
+
+“It isn't very pleasant,” said Paul, rather soberly.
+
+“And that woman--Mrs. Mudge--she looks as if she might be a regular
+spitfire, isn't she?”
+
+“Rather so.”
+
+“I only wish the old gentleman--meaning of course, the Squire--would
+take you to live with me. I want a fellow to play with. But I say, Paul,
+go and get your hat, and we'll go out for a walk.”
+
+“I don't know what Mrs. Mudge will say,” said Paul, who had just come
+from turning the handle of a churn.
+
+“Just call Mrs. Mudge, and I'll manage it.”
+
+Mrs. Mudge being summoned, made her appearance at the door.
+
+“I presume, ma'am,” said Ben, confidently, “you will have no objection
+to Paul's taking a walk with me while I deliver the message I am
+entrusted with.”
+
+“Certainly,” said Mrs. Mudge, rather unwillingly, but not venturing to
+refuse.
+
+“It takes me to come it over the old lady,” said Ben, when they were out
+of hearing.
+
+“Now, we'll go a fishing.”
+
+
+
+
+V.
+
+A CRISIS.
+
+
+Before sunrise the next morning Paul was awakened by a rude shake from
+Mr. Mudge, with an intimation that he had better get up, as there was
+plenty of work before him.
+
+By the light of the lantern, for as yet it was too dark to dispense with
+it, Paul dressed himself. Awakened from a sound sleep, he hardly had
+time to collect his thoughts, and it was with a look of bewilderment
+that he surveyed the scene about him. As Mrs. Mudge had said, they were
+pretty full already, and accordingly a rude pallet had been spread for
+him in the attic, of which, with the exception of nocturnal marauders,
+he was the only occupant. Paul had not, to be sure, been used to very
+superior accommodations, and if the bed had not been quite so hard, he
+would have got along very well. As it was he was separated from slats
+only by a thin straw bed which did not improve matters much. It was
+therefore with a sense of weariness which slumber had not dissipated,
+that Paul arose at the summons of Mr. Mudge.
+
+When he reached the kitchen, he found that gentleman waiting for him.
+
+“Do you know how to milk?” was his first salutation.
+
+“I never learned,” said Paul.
+
+“Then you'll have to, in double-quick time,” was the reply, “for I don't
+relish getting up so early, and you can take it off my hands.”
+
+The two proceeded to the barn, where Paul received his first lesson in
+this important branch of education.
+
+Mr. Mudge kept five cows. One might have thought he could have afforded
+a moderate supply of milk to his boarders, but all, with the exception
+of a single quart, was sold to the milkman who passed the door every
+morning.
+
+After breakfast, which was on the same economical plan with the dinner
+of the day previous, Paul was set to work planting potatoes, at which he
+was kept steadily employed till the dinner-hour.
+
+Poor Paul! his back ached dreadfully, for he had never before done any
+harder work than trifling services for his father. But the inexorable
+Mr. Mudge was in sight, and however much he wished, he did not dare to
+lay aside his hoe even for a moment.
+
+Twelve o'clock found him standing beside the dinner-table. He ate more
+heartily than before, for his forenoon's labor made even poorhouse fare
+palatable.
+
+Mrs. Mudge observed the change, and remarked in a satisfied tone. “Well,
+my fine gentleman, I see you are coming to your appetite. I thought you
+wouldn't hold out long.”
+
+Paul, who had worn off something of his diffidence, could not help
+feeling indignant at this speech; unaccustomed to be addressed in this
+way, the taunt jarred upon his feelings, but he only bit his lip and
+preserved silence.
+
+Aunt Lucy, too, who had come to feel a strong interest in Paul, despite
+her natural mildness, could not resist the temptation of saying with
+some warmth, “what's the use of persecuting the child? He has sorrows
+enough of his own without your adding to them.”
+
+Mrs. Mudge was not a little incensed at this remonstrance.
+
+“I should like to know, ma'am, who requested you to put in your oar!”
+ she said with arms akimbo. “Anybody wouldn't think from your lofty airs
+that you lived in the poorhouse; I'll thank you to mind your own
+business in the future, and not meddle with what don't concern you.”
+
+Aunt Lucy was wise enough to abstain from provoking further the wrath of
+her amiable landlady, and continued to eat her soup in silence. But Mrs.
+Mudge neer forgot this interference, nor the cause of it, and henceforth
+with the malignity of a narrow-minded and spiteful woman, did what she
+could to make Paul uncomfortable. Her fertile ingenuity always found
+some new taunt, or some new reproach, to assail him with. But Paul,
+though at first he felt indignant, learned at last to treat them as they
+deserved, with silent disdain. Assured of the sympathy of those around
+him, he did not allow his appetite to be spoiled by any remark which
+Mrs. Mudge might offer.
+
+This, of course, only provoked her the more, and she strove to have his
+daily tasks increased, in the amiable hope that his “proud spirit” might
+be tamed thereby.
+
+Mr. Mudge, who was somewhat under petticoat government, readily acceded
+to his wife's wishes, and henceforth Paul's strength was taxed to its
+utmost limit. He was required to be up with the first gray tint of dawn
+and attend to the cattle. From this time until night, except the brief
+time devoted to his meals, he was incessantly occupied. Aunt Lucy's
+society, his chief comfort, was thus taken from him; since, in order to
+rise early, he was obliged to go to bed as soon as possible after day's
+work was finished.
+
+The effects of such incessant labor without a sufficient supply of
+nourishing food, may easily be imagined. The dry bread and meagre soup
+which constituted the chief articles of diet in Mrs. Mudge's economical
+household, had but one recommendation,--they were effectual preventives
+of gluttony. It was reported that on one occasion a beggar, apparently
+famishing with hunger, not knowing the character of the house, made
+application at the door for food. In an unusual fit of generosity, Mrs.
+Mudge furnished him with a slice of bread and a bowl of soup, which,
+however, proved so far from tempting that the beggar, hungry as he was,
+left them almost untouched.
+
+One day, as Paul was working in the field at a little distance from
+Mr. Mudge, he became conscious of a peculiar feeling of giddiness which
+compelled him to cling to the hoe for support,--otherwise he must have
+fallen.
+
+“No laziness there,” exclaimed Mr. Mudge, observing Paul's cessation
+from labor, “We can't support you in idleness.”
+
+But the boy paid no regard to this admonition, and Mr. Mudge, somewhat
+surprised, advanced toward him to enforce the command.
+
+Even he was startled at the unusual paleness of Paul's face, and
+inquired in a less peremptory tone, “what's the matter?”
+
+“I feel sick,” gasped Paul.
+
+Without another word, Mr. Mudge took Paul up in his arms and carried him
+into the house.
+
+“What's the matter, now?” asked his wife, meeting him at the door.
+
+“The boy feels a little sick, but I guess he'll get over it by-and
+by. Haven't you got a little soup that you can give him? I reckon he's
+faint, and that'll brighten him up.”
+
+Paul evidently did not think so, for he motioned away a bowl of the
+delightful mixture, though it was proffered him by the fair hands of
+Mrs. Mudge. The lady was somewhat surprised, and said, roughly, “I
+shouldn't wonder if he was only trying to shirk.”
+
+This was too much even for Mr. Mudge; “The boy's sick,” said he, “that's
+plain enough; if he don't get better soon, I must send for the doctor,
+for work drives, and I can't spare him.”
+
+“There's no more danger of his being sick than mine,” said Mrs. Mudge,
+emphatically; “however, if you're fool enough to go for a doctor, that's
+none of my business. I've heard of feigning sickness before now, to
+get rid of work. As to his being pale, I've been as pale as that myself
+sometimes without your troubling yourself very much about me.”
+
+“'Twon't be any expense to us,” alleged Mr. Mudge, in a tone of
+justification, for he felt in some awe of his wife's temper, which was
+none of the mildest when a little roused, “'Twon't be any expense to us;
+the town has got to pay for it, and as long as it will get him ready for
+work sooner, we might as well take advantage of it.”
+
+This consideration somewhat reconciled Mrs. Mudge to the step proposed,
+and as Paul, instead of getting better, grew rapidly worse, Mr. Mudge
+thought it expedient to go immediately for the village physician.
+Luckily Dr. Townsend was at home, and an hour afterwards found him
+standing beside the sick boy.
+
+“I don't know but you'll think it rather foolish, our sending for you,
+doctor,” said Mrs. Mudge, “but Mudge would have it that the boy was sick
+and so he went for you.”
+
+“And he did quite right,” said Dr. Townsend, noticing the ghastly pallor
+of Paul's face. “He is a very sick boy, and if I had not been called I
+would not have answered for the consequences. How do you feel, my boy?”
+ he inquired of Paul.
+
+“I feel very weak, and my head swims,” was the reply.
+
+“How and when did this attack come on?” asked the doctor, turning to Mr.
+Mudge.
+
+“He was taken while hoeing in the field,” was the reply.
+
+“Have you kept him at work much there lately?”
+
+“Well, yes, I've been drove by work, and he has worked there all day
+latterly.”
+
+“At what time has he gone to work in the morning?”
+
+“He has got up to milk the cows about five o'clock. I used to do it, but
+since he has learned, I have indulged myself a little.”
+
+“It would have been well for him if he had enjoyed the same privilege.
+It is my duty to speak plainly. The sickness of this boy lies at your
+door. He has never been accustomed to hard labor, and yet you have
+obliged him to rise earlier and work later than most men. No wonder he
+feels weak. Has he a good appetite?”
+
+“Well, rather middlin',” said Mrs. Mudge, “but it's mainly because he's
+too dainty to eat what's set before him. Why, only the first day he was
+here he turned up his nose at the bread and soup we had for dinner.”
+
+“Is this a specimen of the soup?” asked Dr. Townsend, taking from the
+table the bowl which had been proffered to Paul and declined by him.
+
+Without ceremony he raised to his lips a spoonful of the soup and tasted
+it with a wry face.
+
+“Do you often have this soup on the table?” he asked abruptly.
+
+“We always have it once a day, and sometimes twice,” returned Mrs.
+Mudge.
+
+“And you call the boy dainty because he don't relish such stuff as
+this?” said the doctor, with an indignation he did not attempt to
+conceal. “Why, I wouldn't be hired to take the contents of that bowl. It
+is as bad as any of my own medicines, and that's saying a good deal.
+How much nourishment do you suppose such a mixture would afford? And yet
+with little else to sustain him you have worked this boy like a beast of
+burden,--worse even, for they at least have abundance of GOOD food.”
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Mudge both winced under this plain speaking, but they did
+not dare to give expression to their anger, for they knew well that Dr.
+Townsend was an influential man in town, and, by representing the affair
+in the proper quarter, might render their hold upon their present post
+a very precarious one. Mr. Mudge therefore contented himself with
+muttering that he guessed he worked as hard as anybody, and he didn't
+complain of his fare.
+
+“May I ask you, Mr. Mudge,” said the doctor, fixing his penetrating eye
+full upon him, “whether you confine yourself to the food upon which you
+have kept this boy?”
+
+“Well,” said Mr. Mudge, in some confusion, moving uneasily in his
+seat, “I can't say but now and then I eat something a little different.”
+
+“Do you eat at the same table with the inmates of your house?”
+
+“Well, no,” said the embarrassed Mr. Mudge.
+
+“Tell me plainly,--how often do you partake of this soup?”
+
+“I aint your patient,” said the man, sullenly, “Why should you want to
+know what I eat?”
+
+“I have an object in view. Are you afraid to answer?”
+
+“I don't know as there's anything to be afraid of. The fact is, I aint
+partial to soup; it don't agree with me, and so I don't take it.”
+
+“Did you ever consider that this might be the case with others as
+well as yourself?” inquired the doctor with a glance expressive of his
+contempt for Mr. Mudge's selfishness. Without waiting for a reply, Dr.
+Townsend ordered Paul to be put to bed immediately, after which he would
+leave some medicine for him to take.
+
+Here was another embarrassment for the worthy couple. They hardly knew
+where to put our hero. It would not do for them to carry him to his
+pallet in the attic, for they felt sure that this would lead to some
+more plain speaking on the part of Dr. Townsend. He was accordingly,
+though with some reluctance, placed in a small bedroom upstairs, which,
+being more comfortable than those appropriated to the paupers, had been
+reserved for a son at work in a neighboring town, on his occasional
+visits home.
+
+“Is there no one in the house who can sit in the chamber and attend to
+his occasional wants?” asked Dr. Townsend. “He will need to take his
+medicine at stated periods, and some one will be required to administer
+it.”
+
+“There's Aunt Lucy Lee,” said Mrs. Mudge, “she's taken a fancy to the
+boy, and I reckon she'll do as well as anybody.”
+
+“No one better,” returned the doctor, who well knew Aunt Lucy's kindness
+of disposition, and was satisfied that she would take all possible care
+of his patient.
+
+So it was arranged that Aunt Lucy should take her place at Paul's
+bedside as his nurse.
+
+Paul was sick for many days,--not dangerously so, but hard work and
+scanty fare had weakened him to such a degree that exhausted nature
+required time to recruit its wasted forces. But he was not unhappy or
+restless. Hour after hour he would lie patiently, and listen to the
+clicking of her knitting needles. Though not provided with luxurious
+food, Dr. Townsend had spoken with so much plainness that Mrs. Mudge
+felt compelled to modify her treatment, lest, through his influence, she
+with her husband, might lose their situation. This forced forbearance,
+however, was far from warming her heart towards its object. Mrs.
+Mudge was a hard, practical woman, and her heart was so encrusted with
+worldliness and self-interest that she might as well have been without
+one.
+
+One day, as Paul lay quietly gazing at Aunt Lucy's benevolent face,
+and mentally contrasting it with that of Mrs. Mudge, whose shrill voice
+could be heard form below, he was seized with a sudden desire to learn
+something of her past history.
+
+“How long have you been here, Aunt Lucy?” he inquired.
+
+She looked up from her knitting, and sighed as she answered, “A long and
+weary time to look back upon, Paul. I have been here ten years.”
+
+“Ten years,” repeated Paul, thoughtfully, “and I am thirteen. So you
+have been here nearly all my lifetime. Has Mr. Mudge been here all that
+time?”
+
+“Only the last two years. Before that we had Mrs. Perkins.”
+
+“Did she treat you any better than Mrs. Mudge?”
+
+“Any better than Mrs. Mudge!” vociferated that lady, who had ascended
+the stairs without being heard by Aunt Lucy of Paul, and had thus
+caught the last sentence. “Any better than Mrs. Mudge!” she repeated,
+thoroughly provoked. “So you've been talking about me, you trollop, have
+you? I'll come up with you, you may depend upon that. That's to pay for
+my giving you tea Sunday night, is it? Perhaps you'll get some more.
+It's pretty well in paupers conspiring together because they aint
+treated like princes and princesses. Perhaps you'd like to got boarded
+with Queen Victoria.”
+
+The old lady sat very quiet during this tirade. She had been the subject
+of similar invective before, and knew that it would do no good to oppose
+Mrs. Mudge in her present excited state.
+
+“I don't wonder you haven't anything to say,” said the infuriated dame.
+“I should think you'd want to hide your face in shame, you trollop.”
+
+Paul was not quite so patient as his attendant. Her kindness had
+produced such an impression on him, that Mrs. Mudge, by her taunts,
+stirred up his indignation.
+
+“She's no more of a trollop than you are,” said he, with spirit.
+
+Mrs. Mudge whirled round at this unexpected attack, and shook her fist
+menacingly at Paul--
+
+“So, you've put in your oar, you little jackanapes,” said she, “If
+you're well enough to be impudent you're well enough to go to work.
+You aint a goin' to lie here idle much longer, I can tell you. If
+you deceive Dr. Townsend, and make him believe you're sick, you can't
+deceive me. No doubt you feel mighty comfortable, lyin' here with
+nothing to do, while I'm a slavin' myself to death down stairs, waitin'
+upon you; (this was a slight exaggeration, as Aunt Lucy took the entire
+charge of Paul, including the preparation of his food;) but you'd better
+make the most of it, for you won't lie here much longer. You'll miss not
+bein' able to talk about me, won't you?”
+
+Mrs. Mudge paused a moment as if expecting an answer to her highly
+sarcastic question, but Paul felt that no advantage would be gained by
+saying more.. He was not naturally a quick-tempered buy, and had only
+been led to this little ebullition by the wanton attack by Mrs. Mudge.
+
+This lady, after standing a moment as if defying the twain to a further
+contest, went out, slamming the door violently after her.
+
+“You did wrong to provoke her, Paul,” said Aunt Lucy, gravely.
+
+“How could I help it?” asked Paul, earnestly. “If she had only abused
+ME, I should not have cared so much, but when she spoke about you, who
+have been so kind to me, I could not be silent.”
+
+“I thank you, Paul, for your kind feeling,” said the old lady, gently,
+“but we must learn to bear and forbear. The best of us have our faults
+and failings.”
+
+“What are yours, Aunt Lucy?”
+
+“O, a great many.”
+
+“Such as what?”
+
+“I am afraid I am sometimes discontented with the station which God has
+assigned me.”
+
+“I don't think you can be very much to blame for that. I should never
+learn to be contented here if I lived to the age of Methuselah.”
+
+Paul lay quite still for an hour or more. During that time he formed a
+determination which will be announced in the next chapter.
+
+
+
+
+VI.
+
+PAUL'S DETERMINATION
+
+At the close of the last chapter it was stated that Paul had come to a
+determination.
+
+This was,--TO RUN AWAY.
+
+That he had good reason for this we have already seen.
+
+He was now improving rapidly, and only waited till he was well enough to
+put his design into execution.
+
+“Aunt Lucy,” said he one day, “I've got something to tell you.”
+
+The old lady looked up inquiringly.
+
+“It's something I've been thinking of a long time,--at least most of the
+time since I've been sick. It isn't pleasant for me to stay here, and
+I've pretty much made up my mind that I sha'n't.”
+
+“Where will you go?” asked the old lady, dropping her work in surprise.
+
+“I don't know of any particular place, but I should be better off most
+anywhere than here.”
+
+“But you are so young, Paul.”
+
+“God will take care of me, Aunt Lucy,--mother used to tell me that.
+Besides, here I have no hope of learning anything or improving my
+condition. Then again, if I stay here, I can never do what father wished
+me to do.”
+
+“What is that, Paul?”
+
+Paul told the story of his father's indebtedness to Squire Conant, and
+the cruel letter which the Squire had written.
+
+“I mean to pay that debt,” he concluded firmly. “I won't let anybody say
+that my father kept them out of their money. There is no chance here;
+somewhere else I may find work and money.”
+
+“It is a great undertaking for a boy like you, Paul,” said Aunt Lucy,
+thoughtfully. “To whom is the money due?”
+
+“Squire Conant of Cedarville.”
+
+Aunt Lucy seemed surprised and agitated by the mention of this name.
+
+“Paul,” said she, “Squire Conant is my brother.”
+
+“Your brother!” repeated he in great surprise. “Then why does he allow
+you to live here? He is rich enough to take care of you.”
+
+“It is a long story,” said the old lady, sadly. “All that you will be
+interested to know is that I married against the wishes of my family. My
+husband died and I was left destitute. My brother has never noticed me
+since.”
+
+“It is a great shame,” said Paul.
+
+“We won't judge him, Paul. Have you fixed upon any time to go?”
+
+“I shall wait a few days till I get stronger. Can you tell me how far it
+is to New York?”
+
+“O, a great distance; a hundred miles at least. You can't think of going
+so far as that?”
+
+“I think it would be the best plan,” said Paul. “In a great city like
+New York there must be a great many things to do which I can't do here.
+I don't feel strong enough to work on a farm. Besides, I don't like it.
+O, it must be a fine thing to live in a great city. Then too,” pursued
+Paul, his face lighting up with the hopeful confidence of youth, “I
+may become rich. If I do, Aunt Lucy, I will build a fine house, and you
+shall come and live with me.”
+
+Aunt Lucy had seen more of life than Paul, and was less sanguine. The
+thought came to her that her life was already declining while his was
+but just begun, and in the course of nature, even if his bright dreams
+should be realized, she could hardly hope to live long enough to see it.
+But of this she said nothing. She would not for the world have dimmed
+the brightness of his anticipations by the expression of a single doubt.
+
+“I wish you all success, Paul, and I thank you for wishing me to share
+in your good fortune. God helps those who help themselves, and he will
+help you if you only deserve it. I shall miss you very much when you are
+gone. It will seem more lonely than ever.”
+
+“If it were not for you, Aunt Lucy, I should not mind going at all, but
+I shall be sorry to leave you behind.”
+
+“God will care for both of us, my dear boy. I shall hope to hear from
+you now and then, and if I learn that you are prosperous and happy, I
+shall be better contented with my own lot. But have you thought of all
+the labor and weariness that you will have to encounter? It is best to
+consider well all this, before entering upon such an undertaking.”
+
+“I have thought of all that, and if there were any prospect of my being
+happy here, I might stay for the present. But you know how Mrs. Mudge
+has treated me, and how she feels towards me now.”
+
+“I acknowledge, Paul, that it has proved a hard apprenticeship, and
+perhaps it might be made yet harder if you should stay longer. You must
+let me know when you are going, I shall want to bid you good-by.”
+
+“No fear that I shall forget that, Aunt Lucy. Next to my mother you have
+been most kind to me, and I love you for it.”
+
+Lightly pressing her lips to Paul's forehead Aunt Lucy left the room to
+conceal the emotion called forth by his approaching departure. Of all
+the inmates of the establishment she had felt most closely drawn to the
+orphan boy, whose loneliness and bereavement had appealed to her woman's
+heart. This feeling had been strengthened by the care she had been
+called to bestow upon him in his illness, for it is natural to love
+those whom we have benefited. But Aunt Lucy was the most unselfish of
+living creatures, and the idea of dissuading Paul from a course which he
+felt was right never occurred to her. She determined that she would
+do what she could to further his plans, now that he had decided to go.
+Accordingly she commenced knitting him a pair of stockings, knowing that
+this would prove a useful present. This came near being the means of
+discovering Paul's plan to Mrs. Mudge The latter, who notwithstanding
+her numerous duties, managed to see everything that was going on, had
+her attention directed to Aunt Lucy's work.
+
+“Have you finished the stockings that I set you to knitting for Mr.
+Mudge?” she asked.
+
+“No,” said Aunt Lucy, in some confusion.
+
+“Then whose are those, I should like to know? Somebody of more
+importance than my husband, I suppose.”
+
+“They are for Paul,” returned the old lady, in some uneasiness.
+
+“Paul!” repeated Mrs. Mudge, in her haste putting a double quantity
+of salaeratus into the bread she was mixing; “Paul's are they? And who
+asked you to knit him a pair, I should like to be informed?”
+
+“No one.”
+
+“Then what are you doing it for?”
+
+“I thought he might want them.”
+
+“Mighty considerate, I declare. And I shouldn't be at all surprised
+if you were knitting them with the yarn I gave you for Mr. Mudge's
+stockings.”
+
+“You are mistaken,” said Aunt Lucy, shortly.
+
+“Oh, you're putting on your airs, are you? I'll tell you what, Madam,
+you'd better put those stockings away in double-quick time, and finish
+my husband's, or I'll throw them into the fire, and Paul Prescott may
+wait till he goes barefoot before he gets them.”
+
+There was no alternative. Aunt Lucy was obliged to obey, at least while
+her persecutor was in the room. When alone for any length of time she
+took out Paul's stockings from under her apron, and worked on them till
+the approaching steps of Mrs. Mudge warned her to desist.
+
+*****
+
+
+Three days passed. The shadows of twilight were already upon the earth.
+The paupers were collected in the common room appropriated to their use.
+Aunt Lucy had suspended her work in consequence of the darkness, for
+in this economical household a lamp was considered a useless piece of
+extravagance. Paul crept quietly to her side, and whispered in tones
+audible to her alone, “I AM GOING TO-MORROW.”
+
+“To-morrow! so soon?”
+
+“Yes,” said Paul, “I am as ready now as I shall ever be. I wanted to
+tell you, because I thought maybe you might like to know that this is
+the last evening we shall spend together at present.”
+
+“Do you go in the morning?”
+
+“Yes, Aunt Lucy, early in the morning. Mr. Mudge usually calls me at
+five; I must be gone an hour before that time. I suppose I must bid you
+good-by to-night.”
+
+“Not to-night, Paul; I shall be up in the morning to see you go.”
+
+“But if Mrs. Mudge finds it out she will abuse you.”
+
+“I am used to that, Paul,” said Aunt Lucy, with a sorrowful smile. “I
+have borne it many times, and I can again. But I can't lie quiet and let
+you go without one word of parting. You are quite determined to go?”
+
+“Quite, Aunt Lucy. I never could stay here. There is no pleasure in the
+present, and no hope for the future. I want to see something of life,”
+ and Paul's boyish figure dilated with enthusiasm.
+
+“God grant that you do not see too much!” said Aunt Lucy, half to
+herself.
+
+“Is the world then, so very sad a place?” asked Paul.
+
+“Both joy and sorrow are mingled in the cup of human life,” said Aunt
+Lucy, solemnly:
+
+“Which shall preponderate it is partly in our power to determine. He
+who follows the path of duty steadfastly, cannot be wholly miserable,
+whatever misfortunes may come upon him. He will be sustained by the
+conviction that his own errors have not brought them upon him.”
+
+“I will try to do right,” said Paul, placing his hand in that of his
+companion, “and if ever I am tempted to do wrong, I will think of you
+and of my mother, and that thought shall restrain me.”
+
+“It's time to go bed, folks,” proclaimed Mrs Mudge, appearing at the
+door. “I can't have you sitting up all night, as I've no doubt you'd
+like to do.”
+
+It was only eight o'clock, but no one thought of interposing an
+objection. The word of Mrs. Mudge was law in her household, as even her
+husband was sometimes made aware.
+
+All quietly rose from their seats and repaired to bed. It was an
+affecting sight to watch the tottering gait of those on whose heads the
+snows of many winters had drifted heavily, as they meekly obeyed the
+behest of one whose coarse nature forbade her sympathizing with them in
+their clouded age, and many infirmities.
+
+“Come,” said she, impatient of their slow movements, “move a little
+quicker, if it's perfectly convenient. Anybody'd think you'd been hard
+at work all day, as I have. You're about the laziest set I ever had
+anything to do with. I've got to be up early in the morning, and can't
+stay here dawdling.”
+
+“She's got a sweet temper,” said Paul, in a whisper, to Aunt Lucy.
+
+“Hush!” said the old lady. “She may hear you.”
+
+“What's that you're whispering about?” said Mrs. Mudge, suspiciously.
+“Something you're ashamed to have heard, most likely.”
+
+Paul thought it best to remain silent.
+
+“To-morrow morning at four!” he whispered to Aunt Lucy, as he pressed
+her hand in the darkness.
+
+
+
+
+VII.
+
+PAUL BEGINS HIS JOURNEY.
+
+
+Paul ascended the stairs to his hard pallet for the last time. For the
+last time! There is sadness in the thought, even when the future which
+lies before us glows with brighter colors than the past has ever worn.
+But to Paul, whose future was veiled in uncertainty, and who was about
+to part with the only friend who felt an interest in his welfare, this
+thought brought increased sorrow.
+
+He stood before the dirt-begrimed window through which alone the
+struggling sunbeams found an inlet into the gloomy little attic,
+and looked wistfully out upon the barren fields that surrounded the
+poorhouse. Where would he be on the morrow at that time? He did not
+know. He knew little or nothing of the great world without, yet his
+resolution did not for an instant falter. If it had, the thought of Mrs.
+Mudge would have been enough to remove all his hesitation.
+
+He threw himself on his hard bed, and a few minutes brought him that
+dreamless sleep which comes so easily to the young.
+
+Meanwhile Aunt Lucy, whose thoughts were also occupied with Paul's
+approaching departure, had taken from the pocket of her OTHER dress--for
+she had but two--something wrapped in a piece of brown paper. One by one
+she removed the many folds in which it was enveloped, and came at length
+to the contents.
+
+It was a coin.
+
+“Paul will need some money, poor boy,” said she, softly to herself, “I
+will give him this. It will never do me any good, and it may be of some
+service to him.”
+
+So saying she looked carefully at the coin in the moonlight.
+
+But what made her start, and utter a half exclamation?
+
+Instead of the gold eagle, the accumulation of many years, which she had
+been saving for some extraordinary occasion like the presents she held
+in her hand--a copper cent.
+
+“I have been robbed,” she exclaimed indignantly in the suddenness of her
+surprise.
+
+“What's the matter now?” inquired Mrs Mudge, appearing at the door, “Why
+are you not in bed, Aunt Lucy Lee? How dare you disobey my orders?”
+
+“I have been robbed,” exclaimed the old lady in unwonted excitement.
+
+“Of what, pray?” asked Mrs. Mudge, with a sneer.
+
+“I had a gold eagle wrapped up in that paper,” returned Aunt Lucy,
+pointing to the fragments on the floor, “and now, to-night, when I come
+to open it, I find but this cent.”
+
+“A likely story,” retorted Mrs. Mudge, “very likely, indeed, that a
+common pauper should have a gold eagle. If you found a cent in the
+paper, most likely that's what you put there. You're growing old and
+forgetful, so don't get foolish and flighty. You'd better go to bed.”
+
+“But I did have the gold, and it's been stolen,” persisted Aunt Lucy,
+whose disappointment was the greater because she intended the money for
+Paul.
+
+“Again!” exclaimed Mrs. Mudge. “Will you never have done with this
+folly? Even if you did have the gold, which I don't for an instant
+believe, you couldn't keep it. A pauper has no right to hold property.”
+
+“Then why did the one who stole the little I had leave me this?” said
+the old lady, scornfully, holding up the cent which had been substituted
+for the gold.
+
+“How should I know?” exclaimed Mrs. Mudge, wrathfully. “You talk as if
+you thought I had taken your trumpery money.”
+
+“So you did!” chimed in an unexpected voice, which made Mrs. Mudge start
+nervously.
+
+It was the young woman already mentioned, who was bereft of reason,
+but who at times, as often happens in such cases, seemed gifted with
+preternatural acuteness.
+
+“So you did. I saw you, I did; I saw you creep up when you thought
+nobody was looking, and search her pocket. You opened that paper and
+took out the bright yellow piece, and put in another. You didn't think I
+was looking at you, ha! ha! How I laughed as I stood behind the door and
+saw you tremble for fear some one would catch you thieving. You didn't
+think of me, dear, did you?”
+
+And the wild creature burst into an unmeaning laugh.
+
+Mrs. Mudge stood for a moment mute, overwhelmed by this sudden
+revelation. But for the darkness, Aunt Lucy could have seen the sudden
+flush which overspread her face with the crimson hue of detected guilt.
+But this was only for a moment. It was quickly succeeded by a feeling
+of intense anger towards the unhappy creature who had been the means of
+exposing her.
+
+“I'll teach you to slander your betters, you crazy fool,” she exclaimed,
+in a voice almost inarticulate with passion, as she seized her rudely by
+the arm, and dragged her violently from the room.
+
+She returned immediately.
+
+“I suppose,” said she, abruptly, confronting Aunt Lucy, “that you are
+fool enough to believe her ravings?”
+
+“I bring no accusation,” said the old lady, calmly, “If your conscience
+acquits you, it is not for me to accuse you.”
+
+“But what do you think?” persisted Mrs. Mudge, whose consciousness of
+guilt did not leave her quite at ease.
+
+“I cannot read the heart,” said Aunt Lucy, composedly. “I can only say,
+that, pauper as I am, I would not exchange places with the one who has
+done this deed.”
+
+“Do you mean me?” demanded Mrs. Mudge.
+
+“You can tell best.”
+
+“I tell you what, Aunt Lucy Lee,” said Mrs. Mudge, her eyes blazing
+with anger, “If you dare insinuate to any living soul that I stole your
+paltry money, which I don't believe you ever had, I will be bitterly
+revenged upon you.”
+
+She flaunted out of the room, and Aunt Lucy, the first bitterness of her
+disappointment over, retired to bed, and slept more tranquilly than the
+unscrupulous woman who had robbed her.
+
+At a quarter before four Paul started from his humble couch, and hastily
+dressed himself, took up a little bundle containing all his scanty stock
+of clothing, and noiselessly descended the two flights of stairs which
+separated him from the lower story. Here he paused a moment for Aunt
+Lucy to appear. Her sharp ears had distinguished his stealthy steps as
+he passed her door, and she came down to bid him good-by. She had in her
+hands a pair of stockings which she slipped into his bundle.
+
+“I wish I had something else to give you, Paul,” she said, “but you know
+that I am not very rich.”
+
+“Dear Aunt Lucy,” said Paul, kissing her, “you are my only friend on
+earth. You have been very kind to me, and I never will forget you,
+NEVER! By-and-by, when I am rich, I will build a fine house, and you
+will come and live with me, won't you?”
+
+Paul's bright anticipations, improbable as they were, had the effect of
+turning his companion's thoughts into a more cheerful channel.
+
+She bent down and kissed him, whispering softly, “Yes, I will, Paul.”
+
+“Then it's a bargain,” said he, joyously, “Mind you don't forget it. I
+shall come for you one of these days when you least expect it.”
+
+“Have you any money?” inquired Aunt Lucy.
+
+Paul shook his head.
+
+“Then,” said she, drawing from her finger a gold ring which had held
+its place for many long years, “here is something which will bring you a
+little money if you are ever in distress.”
+
+Paul hung back.
+
+“I would rather not take it, indeed I would,” he said, earnestly,
+“I would rather go hungry for two or three days than sell your ring.
+Besides, I shall not need it; God will provide for me.”
+
+“But you need not sell it,” urged Aunt Lucy, “unless it is absolutely
+necessary. You can take it and keep it in remembrance of me. Keep it
+till you see me again, Paul. It will be a pledge to me that you will
+come back again some day.”
+
+“On that condition I will take it,” said Paul, “and some day I will
+bring it back.”
+
+A slight noise above, as of some one stirring in sleep, excited the
+apprehensions of the two, and warned them that it was imprudent for them
+to remain longer in conversation.
+
+After a hurried good-by, Aunt Lucy quietly went upstairs again, and
+Paul, shouldering his bundle, walked rapidly away.
+
+The birds, awakening from their night's repose, were beginning to carol
+forth their rich songs of thanksgiving for the blessing of a new day.
+From the flowers beneath his feet and the blossom-laden branches above
+his head, a delicious perfume floated out upon the morning air, and
+filled the heart of the young wanderer with a sense of the joyousness of
+existence, and inspired him with a hopeful confidence in the future.
+
+For the first time he felt that he belonged to himself. At the age of
+thirteen he had taken his fortune in his own hand, and was about to mold
+it as best he might.
+
+There were care, and toil, and privations before him, no doubt, but
+in that bright morning hour he could harbor only cheerful and trusting
+thoughts. Hopefully he looked forward to the time when he could fulfil
+his father's dying injunction, and lift from his name the burden of a
+debt unpaid. Then his mind reverting to another thought, he could not
+help smiling at the surprise and anger of Mr. Mudge, when he should find
+that his assistant had taken French leave. He thought he should like to
+be concealed somewhere where he could witness the commotion excited
+by his own departure. But as he could not be in two places at the same
+time, he must lose that satisfaction. He had cut loose from the Mudge
+household, as he trusted, forever. He felt that a new and brighter life
+was opening before him.
+
+
+
+
+VIII.
+
+A FRIEND IN NEED.
+
+
+Our hero did not stop till he had put a good five miles between himself
+and the poorhouse. He knew that it would not be long before Mr. Mudge
+would discover his absence, and the thought of being carried back was
+doubly distasteful to him now that he had, even for a short time, felt
+the joy of being his own master. His hurried walk, taken in the fresh
+morning air, gave him quite a sharp appetite. Luckily he had the means
+of gratifying it. The night before he had secreted half his supper,
+knowing that he should need it more the next morning. He thought he
+might now venture to sit down and eat it.
+
+At a little distance from the road was a spring, doubtless used for
+cattle, since it was situated at the lower end of a pasture. Close
+beside and bending over it was a broad, branching oak, which promised a
+cool and comfortable shelter.
+
+“That's just the place for me,” thought Paul, who felt thirsty as well
+as hungry, “I think I will take breakfast here and rest awhile before I
+go any farther.”
+
+So saying he leaped lightly over the rail fence, and making his way to
+the place indicated, sat down in the shadow of the tree. Scooping up
+some water in the hollow of his hand, he drank a deep and refreshing
+draught. He next proceeded to pull out of his pocket a small package,
+which proved to contain two small pieces of bread. His long morning walk
+had given him such an appetite that he was not long in despatching all
+he had. It is said by some learned physicians, who no doubt understand
+the matter, that we should always rise from the table with an appetite.
+Probably Paul had never heard of this rule. Nevertheless, he seemed in
+a fair way of putting it into practice, for the best of reasons, because
+he could not help it.
+
+His breakfast, though not the most inviting, being simply unbuttered
+bread and rather dry at that, seemed more delicious than ever before,
+but unfortunately there was not enough of it. However, as there seemed
+likely to be no more forthcoming, he concluded in default of breakfast
+to lie down under the tree for a few minutes before resuming his walk.
+Though he could not help wondering vaguely where his dinner was to come
+from, as that time was several hours distant, he wisely decided not to
+anticipate trouble till it came.
+
+Lying down under the tree, Paul began to consider what Mr. Mudge would
+say when he discovered that he had run away.
+
+“He'll have to milk the cows himself,” thought Paul. “He won't fancy
+that much. Won't Mrs. Mudge scold, thought? I'm glad I shan't be within
+hearing.”
+
+“Holloa!”
+
+It was a boy's voice that Paul heard.
+
+Looking up he saw a sedate company of cows entering the pasture single
+file through an aperture made by letting down the bars. Behind them
+walked a boy of about his own size, flourishing a stout hickory stick.
+The cows went directly to the spring from which Paul had already drunk.
+The young driver looked at our hero with some curiosity, wondering,
+doubtless, what brought him there so early in the morning. After a
+little hesitation he said, remarking Paul's bundle, “Where are you
+traveling?”
+
+“I don't know exactly,” said Paul, who was not quite sure whether it
+would be politic to avow his destination.
+
+“Don't know?” returned the other, evidently surprised.
+
+“Not exactly; I may go to New York.”
+
+“New York! That's a great ways off. Do you know the way there?”
+
+“No, but I can find it.”
+
+“Are you going all alone?” asked his new acquaintance, who evidently
+thought Paul had undertaken a very formidable journey.
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Are you going to walk all the way?”
+
+“Yes, unless somebody offers me a ride now and then.”
+
+“But why don't you ride in the stage, or in the cars? You would get
+there a good deal quicker.”
+
+“One reason,” said Paul, hesitating a little, “is because I have no
+money to pay for riding.”
+
+“Then how do you expect to live? Have you had any breakfast, this
+morning?”
+
+“I brought some with me, and just got through eating it when you came
+along.”
+
+“And where do you expect to get any dinner?” pursued his questioner, who
+was evidently not a little puzzled by the answers he received.
+
+“I don't know,” returned Paul.
+
+His companion looked not a little confounded at this view of the matter,
+but presently a bright thought struck him.
+
+“I shouldn't wonder,” he said, shrewdly, “if you were running away.”
+
+Paul hesitated a moment. He knew that his case must look a little
+suspicious, thus unexplained, and after a brief pause for reflection
+determined to take the questioner into his confidence. He did this the
+more readily because his new acquaintance looked very pleasant.
+
+“You've guessed right,” he said; “if you'll promise not to tell anybody,
+I'll tell you all about it.”
+
+This was readily promised, and the boy who gave his name as John
+Burgess, sat down beside Paul, while he, with the frankness of
+boyhood, gave a circumstantial account of his father's death, and the
+ill-treatment he had met with subsequently.
+
+“Do you come from Wrenville?” asked John, interested. “Why, I've got
+relations there. Perhaps you know my cousin, Ben Newcome.”
+
+“Is Ben Newcome your cousin? O yes, I know him very well; he's a
+first-rate fellow.”
+
+“He isn't much like his father.”
+
+“Not at all. If he was”--
+
+“You wouldn't like him so well. Uncle talks a little too much out of
+the dictionary, and walks so straight that he bends backward. But I say,
+Paul, old Mudge deserves to be choked, and Mrs. Mudge should be obliged
+to swallow a gallon of her own soup. I don't know but that would be
+worse than choking. I wouldn't have stayed so long if I had been in your
+place.”
+
+“I shouldn't,” said Paul, “if it hadn't been for Aunt Lucy.”
+
+“Was she an aunt of yours?”
+
+“No, but we used to call her so, She's the best friend I've got, and I
+don't know but the only one,” said Paul, a little sadly.
+
+“No, she isn't,” said John, quickly; “I'll be your friend, Paul.
+Sometime, perhaps, I shall go to New York, myself, and then I will come
+and see you. Where do you expect to be?”
+
+“I don't know anything about the city,” said Paul, “but if you come, I
+shall be sure to see you somewhere. I wish you were going now.”
+
+Neither Paul nor his companion had much idea of the extent of the great
+metropolis, or they would not have taken it so much as a matter of
+course that, being in the same place, they should meet each other.
+
+Their conversation was interrupted by the ringing of a bell from a
+farmhouse within sight.
+
+“That's our breakfast-bell,” said John rising from the grass. “It is
+meant for me. I suppose they wonder what keeps me so long. Won't you
+come and take breakfast with me, Paul?”
+
+“I guess not,” said Paul, who would have been glad to do so had he
+followed the promptings of his appetite. “I'm afraid your folks would
+ask me questions, and then it would be found out that I am running
+away.”
+
+“I didn't think of that,” returned John, after a pause. “You haven't got
+any dinner with you?” he said a moment after.
+
+“No.”
+
+“Well, I'll tell you what I'll do. Come with me as far as the fence, and
+lie down there till I've finished breakfast. Then I'll bring something
+out for you, and maybe I'll walk along a little way with you.”
+
+“You are very kind,” said Paul, gratefully.
+
+“Oh, nonsense,” said John, “that's nothing. Besides, you know we are
+going to be friends.”
+
+“John! breakfast's ready.”
+
+“There's Nelson calling me,” said John, hurriedly. “I must leave you;
+there's the fence; lie down there, and I'll be back in a jiffy.”
+
+“John, I say, why don't you come?”
+
+“I'm coming. You mustn't think everybody's got such a thundering great
+appetite as you, Nelson.”
+
+“I guess you've got enough to keep you from pining away,” said Nelson,
+good-naturedly, “you're twice as fat as I am.”
+
+“That's because I work harder,” said John, rather illogically.
+
+The brothers went in to breakfast.
+
+But a few minutes elapsed before John reappeared, bearing under his arm
+a parcel wrapped up in an old newspaper. He came up panting with the
+haste he had made.
+
+“It didn't take you long to eat breakfast,” said Paul.
+
+“No, I hurried through it; I thought you would get tired of waiting. And
+now I'll walk along with you a little ways. But wait here's something
+for you.”
+
+So saying he unrolled the newspaper and displayed a loaf of bread,
+fresh and warm, which looked particularly inviting to Paul, whose scanty
+breakfast had by no means satisfied his appetite. Besides this, there
+was a loaf of molasses ginger-bread, with which all who were born in the
+country, or know anything of New England housekeeping, are familiar.
+
+“There,” said John, “I guess that'll be enough for your dinner.”
+
+“But how did you get it without having any questions asked?” inquired
+our hero.
+
+“Oh,” said John, “I asked mother for them, and when she asked what I
+wanted of them, I told her that I'd answer that question to-morrow.
+You see I wanted to give you a chance to get off out of the way, though
+mother wouldn't tell, even if she knew.”
+
+“All right,” said Paul, with satisfaction.
+
+He could not help looking wistfully at the bread, which looked very
+inviting to one accustomed to poorhouse fare.
+
+“If you wouldn't mind,” he said hesitating, “I would like to eat a
+little of the bread now.”
+
+“Mind, of course not,” said John, breaking off a liberal slice. “Why
+didn't I think of that before? Walking must have given you a famous
+appetite.”
+
+John looked on with evident approbation, while Paul ate with great
+apparent appetite.
+
+“There,” said he with a sigh of gratification, as he swallowed the last
+morsel, “I haven't tasted anything so good for a long time.”
+
+“Is it as good as Mrs. Mudge's soup?” asked John, mischievously.
+
+“Almost,” returned Paul, smiling.
+
+We must now leave the boys to pursue their way, and return to the
+dwelling from which our hero had so unceremoniously taken his departure,
+and from which danger now threatened him.
+
+
+
+
+IX.
+
+A CLOUD IN THE MUDGE HORIZON.
+
+
+Mr. Mudge was accustomed to call Paul at five o'clock, to milk the cows
+and perform other chores. He himself did not rise till an hour later.
+During Paul's sickness, he was obliged to take his place,--a thing he
+did not relish overmuch. Now that our hero had recovered, he gladly
+prepared to indulge himself in an extra nap.
+
+“Paul!” called Mr. Mudge from the bottom of the staircase leading up
+into the attic, “it's five o'clock; time you were downstairs.”
+
+Mr. Mudge waited for an answer, but none came.
+
+“Paul!” repeated Mr. Mudge in a louder tone, “it's time to get up;
+tumble out there.”
+
+Again there was no answer.
+
+At first, Mr. Mudge thought it might be in consequence of Paul's
+sleeping so soundly, but on listening attentively, he could not
+distinguish the deep and regular breathing which usually accompanies
+such slumber.
+
+“He must be sullen,” he concluded, with a feeling of irritation. “If he
+is, I'll teach him----”
+
+Without taking time to finish the sentence, he bounded up the rickety
+staircase, and turned towards the bed with the intention of giving our
+hero a smart shaking.
+
+He looked with astonishment at the empty bed. “Is it possible,” he
+thought, “that Paul has already got up? He isn't apt to do so before he
+is called.”
+
+At this juncture, Mrs. Mudge, surprised at her husband's prolonged
+absence, called from below, “Mr. Mudge!”
+
+“Well, wife?”
+
+“What in the name of wonder keeps you up there so long?”
+
+“Just come up and see.”
+
+Mrs. Mudge did come up. Her husband pointed to the empty bed.
+
+“What do you think of that?” he asked.
+
+“What about it?” she inquired, not quite comprehending.
+
+“About that boy, Paul. When I called him I got no answer, so I came up,
+and behold he is among the missing.”
+
+“You don't think he's run away, do you?” asked Mrs. Mudge startled.
+
+“That is more than I know.”
+
+“I'll see if his clothes are here,” said his wife, now fully aroused.
+
+Her search was unavailing. Paul's clothes had disappeared as
+mysteriously as their owner.
+
+“It's a clear case,” said Mr. Mudge, shaking his head; “he's gone.
+I wouldn't have lost him for considerable. He was only a boy, but I
+managed to get as much work out of him as a man. The question is now,
+what shall we do about it?”
+
+“He must be pursued,” said Mrs. Mudge, with vehemence, “I'll have him
+back if it costs me twenty dollars. I'll tell you what, husband,” she
+exclaimed, with a sudden light breaking in upon her, “if there's anybody
+in this house knows where he's gone, it is Aunt Lucy Lee. Only last week
+I caught her knitting him a pair of stockings. I might have known what
+it meant if I hadn't been a fool.”
+
+“Ha, ha! So you might, if you hadn't been a fool!” echoed a mocking
+voice.
+
+Turning with sudden anger, Mrs. Mudge beheld the face of the crazy girl
+peering up at her from below.
+
+This turned her thoughts into a different channel.
+
+“I'll teach you what I am,” she exclaimed, wrathfully descending the
+stairs more rapidly than she had mounted them, “and if you know anything
+about the little scamp, I'll have it out of you.”
+
+The girl narrowly succeeded in eluding the grasp of her pursuer. But,
+alas! for Mrs. Mudge. In her impetuosity she lost her footing, and fell
+backward into a pail of water which had been brought up the night before
+and set in the entry for purposes of ablution. More wrathful than ever,
+Mrs. Mudge bounced into her room and sat down in her dripping garments
+in a very uncomfortable frame of mind. As for Paul, she felt a personal
+dislike for him, and was not sorry on some accounts to have him out of
+the house. The knowledge, however, that he had in a manner defied her
+authority by running away, filled her with an earnest desire to get him
+back, if only to prove that it was not to be defied with impunity.
+
+Hoping to elicit some information from Aunt Lucy, who, she felt sure,
+was in Paul's confidence, she paid her a visit.
+
+“Well, here's a pretty goings on,” she commenced, abruptly. Finding that
+Aunt Lucy manifested no curiosity on the subject, she continued, in a
+significant tone, “Of course, YOU don't know anything about it.”
+
+“I can tell better when I know what you refer to,” said the old lady
+calmly.
+
+“Oh, you are very ignorant all at once. I suppose you didn't know Paul
+Prescott had run away?”
+
+“I am not surprised,” said the old lady, in the same quiet manner.
+
+Mrs. Mudge had expected a show of astonishment, and this calmness
+disconcerted her.
+
+“You are not surprised!” she retorted. “I presume not, since you
+knew all about it beforehand. That's why you were knitting him some
+stockings. Deny it, if you dare.”
+
+“I have no disposition to deny it.”
+
+“You haven't!” exclaimed the questioner, almost struck dumb with this
+audacity.
+
+“No,” said Aunt Lucy. “Why should I? There was no particular inducement
+for him to stay here. Wherever he goes, I hope he will meet with good
+friends and good treatment.”
+
+“As much as to say he didn't find them here. Is that what you mean?”
+
+“I have no charges to bring.”
+
+“But I have,” said Mrs. Mudge, her eyes lighting with malicious
+satisfaction. “Last night you missed a ten-dollar gold piece, which you
+saw was stolen from you. This morning it appears that Paul Prescott has
+run away. I charge him with the theft.”
+
+“You do not, can not believe this,” said the old lady, uneasily.
+
+“Of course I do,” returned Mrs. Mudge, triumphantly, perceiving her
+advantage. “I have no doubt of it, and when we get the boy back, he
+shall be made to confess it.”
+
+Aunt Lucy looked troubled, much to the gratification of Mrs. Mudge.
+It was but for a short time, however. Rising from her seat, she stood
+confronting Mrs. Mudge, and said quietly, but firmly, “I have no doubt,
+Mrs. Mudge, you are capable of doing what you say. I would advise you,
+however, to pause. You know, as well as I do, that Paul is incapable
+of this theft. Even if he were wicked enough to form the idea, he would
+have no need, since it was my intention to GIVE him this money. Who did
+actually steal the gold, you PERHAPS know better than I. Should it be
+necessary, I shall not hesitate to say so. I advise you not to render it
+necessary.”
+
+The threat which lay in these words was understood. It came with the
+force of a sudden blow to Mrs. Mudge, who had supposed it would be no
+difficult task to frighten and silence Aunt Lucy. The latter had always
+been so yielding in all matters relating to herself, that this intrepid
+championship of Paul's interests was unlooked for. The tables were
+completely turned. Pale with rage, and a mortified sense of having been
+foiled with her own weapons, Mrs. Mudge left the room.
+
+Meanwhile her husband milked the cows, and was now occupied in
+performing certain other duties that could not be postponed, being
+resolved, immediately after breakfast was over, to harness up and pursue
+the runaway.
+
+“Well, did you get anything out of the old lady?” he inquired, as he
+came from the barn with the full milk-pails.
+
+“She said she knew beforehand that he was going.”
+
+“Eh!” said Mr. Mudge, pricking up his ears, “did she say where?”
+
+“No, and she won't. She knit him a pair of stockings to help him off,
+and doesn't pretend to deny it. She's taken a wonderful fancy to the
+young scamp, and has been as obstinate as could be ever since he has
+been here.”
+
+“If I get him back,” said Mr. Mudge, “he shall have a good flogging, if
+I am able to give him one, and she shall be present to see it.”
+
+“That's right,” said Mrs. Mudge, approvingly, “when are you going to set
+out after him?”
+
+“Right after breakfast. So be spry, and get it ready as soon as you
+can.”
+
+Under the stimulus of this inspiring motive, Mrs. Mudge bustled about
+with new energy, and before many minutes the meal was in readiness.
+It did not take long to dispatch it. Immediately afterwards, Mr. Mudge
+harnessed up, as he had determined, and started off in pursuit of our
+hero.
+
+
+In the meantime the two boys had walked leisurely along, conversing on
+various subjects.
+
+“When you get to the city, Paul,” said John, “I shall want to hear from
+you. Will you write to me?”
+
+Paul promised readily.
+
+“You can direct to John Burges, Burrville. The postmaster knows me, and
+I shall be sure to get it.”
+
+“I wish you were going with me,” said Paul.
+
+“Sometimes when I think that I am all alone it discourages me. It would
+be so much pleasanter to have some one with me.”
+
+“I shall come sometime,” said John, “when I am a little older. I heard
+father say something the other day about my going into a store in the
+city. So we may meet again.”
+
+“I hope we shall.”
+
+They were just turning a bend of the road, when Paul chanced to look
+backward. About a quarter of a mile back he descried a horse and wagon
+wearing a familiar look. Fixing his eyes anxiously upon them, he was
+soon made aware that his suspicions were only too well founded. It was
+Mr. Mudge, doubtless in quest of him.
+
+“What shall I do?” he asked, hurriedly of his companion.
+
+“What's the matter?”
+
+This was quickly explained.
+
+John was quickwitted, and he instantly decided upon the course proper
+to be pursued. On either side of the road was a growth of underbrush so
+thick as to be almost impenetrable.
+
+“Creep in behind there, and be quick about it,” directed John, “there is
+no time to lose.”
+
+“There,” said he, after Paul had followed his advice, “if he can see you
+now he must have sharp eyes.”
+
+“Won't you come in too?”
+
+“Not I,” said John, “I am anxious to see this Mr. Mudge, since you have
+told me so much about him. I hope he will ask me some questions.”
+
+“What will you tell him?”
+
+“Trust me for that. Don't say any more. He's close by.”
+
+
+
+
+X.
+
+MR. MUDGE MEETS HIS MATCH.
+
+
+John lounged along, appearing to be very busily engaged in making a
+whistle from a slip of willow which he had a short time before cut from
+the tree. He purposely kept in the middle of the road, apparently quite
+unaware of the approach of the vehicle, until he was aroused by the
+sound of a voice behind him.
+
+“Be a little more careful, if you don't want to get run over.”
+
+John assumed a look of surprise, and with comic terror ran to the side
+of the road.
+
+Mr. Mudge checked his horse, and came to a sudden halt.
+
+“I say, youngster, haven't you seen a boy of about your own size walking
+along, with a bundle in his hand?”
+
+“Tied up in a red cotton handkerchief?” inquired John.
+
+“Yes, I believe so,” said Mr. Mudge, eagerly, “where did you----”
+
+“With a blue cloth cap?”
+
+“Yes, where----”
+
+“Gray jacket and pants?”
+
+“Yes, yes. Where?”
+
+“With a patch on one knee?”
+
+“Yes, the very one. When did you see him?” said Mr. Mudge, getting ready
+to start his horse.
+
+“Perhaps it isn't the one you mean,” continued John, who took a
+mischievous delight in playing with the evident impatience of Mr. Mudge;
+“the boy that I saw looked thin, as if he hadn't had enough to eat.”
+
+Mr. Mudge winced slightly, and looked at John with some suspicion.
+But John put on so innocent and artless a look that Mr. Mudge at once
+dismissed the idea that there was any covert meaning in what he said.
+Meanwhile Paul, from his hiding-place in the bushes, had listened with
+anxiety to the foregoing colloquy. When John described his appearance so
+minutely, he was seized with a sudden apprehension that the boy meant
+to betray him. But he dismissed it instantly. In his own singleness of
+heart he could not believe such duplicity possible. Still, it was not
+without anxiety that he waited to hear what would be said next.
+
+“Well,” said Mr. Mudge, slowly, “I don't know but he is a little PEAKED.
+He's been sick lately, and that's took off his flesh.”
+
+“Was he your son?” asked John, in a sympathizing tone; “you must feel
+quite troubled about him.”
+
+He looked askance at Mr. Mudge, enjoying that gentleman's growing
+irritation.
+
+“My son? No. Where----”
+
+“Nephews perhaps?” suggested the imperturbable John, leisurely
+continuing the manufacture of a whistle.
+
+“No, I tell you, nothing of the kind. But I can't sit waiting here.”
+
+“Oh, I hope you'll excuse me,” said John, apologetically. “I hope you
+won't stop on my account. I didn't know you were in a hurry.”
+
+“Well, you know it now,” said Mr. Mudge, crossly. “When and where did
+you see the boy you have described? I am in pursuit of him.”
+
+“Has he run away?” inquired John in assumed surprise.
+
+“Are you going to answer my question or not?” demanded Mr. Mudge,
+angrily.
+
+“Oh, I beg your pardon. I shouldn't have asked so many questions, only I
+thought he was a nice-looking boy, and I felt interested in him.”
+
+“He's a young scamp,” said Mr. Mudge, impetuously, “and it's my belief
+that you're another. Now answer my question. When and where did you see
+this boy?”
+
+This time Mr. Mudge's menacing look warned John that he had gone far
+enough. Accordingly he answered promptly, “He passed by our farm this
+morning.”
+
+“How far back is that?”
+
+“About three miles.”
+
+“Did he stop there?”
+
+“Yes, he stopped a while to rest.”
+
+“Have you seen him since?”
+
+“Yes, I saw him about half a mile back.”
+
+“On this road?”
+
+“Yes, but he turned up the road that branches off there.”
+
+“Just what I wanted to find out,” said Mr. Mudge, in a tone of
+satisfaction, “I'm sure to catch him.”
+
+So saying, he turned about and put his horse to its utmost speed,
+determined to make up for lost time. When he was fairly out of sight,
+Paul came forth from his hiding-place.
+
+“How could you do so!” he asked in a reproachful tone.
+
+“Could I do what?” asked John, turning a laughing face towards Paul.
+“Didn't I tell old Mudge the exact truth? You know you did turn up that
+road. To be sure you didn't go two rods before turning back. But he
+didn't stop to ask about that. If he hadn't been in such a hurry,
+perhaps I should have told him. Success to him!”
+
+“You can't think how I trembled when you described me so particularly.”
+
+“You didn't think I would betray you?” said John, quickly.
+
+“No, but I was afraid you would venture too far, and get us both into
+trouble.”
+
+“Trust me for that, Paul; I've got my eyes wide open, and ain't easily
+caught. But wasn't it fun to see old Mudge fuming while I kept him
+waiting. What would he have said if he had known the bird was so near at
+hand? He looked foolish enough when I asked him if you were his son.”
+
+John sat down and gave vent to his pent-up laughter which he had felt
+obliged to restrain in the presence of Mr. Mudge. He laughed so heartily
+that Paul, notwithstanding his recent fright and anxiety, could not
+resist the infection. Together they laughed, till the very air seemed
+vocal with merriment.
+
+John was the first to recover his gravity.
+
+“I am sorry, Paul,” he said, “but I must bid you good-by. They will miss
+me from the house. I am glad I have got acquainted with you, and I hope
+I shall see you again some time before very long. Good-by, Paul.”
+
+“Good-by, John.”
+
+The two boys shook hands and parted. One went in one direction, the
+other in the opposite. Each looked back repeatedly till the other was
+out of sight. Then came over Paul once more a feeling of sadness and
+desolation, which the high spirits of his companion had for the time
+kept off. Occasionally he cast a glance backwards, to make sure that
+Mr. Mudge was not following him. But Paul had no cause to fear on that
+score. The object of his dread was already some miles distant in a
+different direction.
+
+For an hour longer, Paul trudged on. He met few persons, the road not
+being very much frequented. He was now at least twelve miles from his
+starting-place, and began to feel very sensibly the effects of heat
+and fatigue combined. He threw himself down upon the grass under the
+overhanging branches of an appletree to rest. After his long walk repose
+seemed delicious, and with a feeling of exquisite enjoyment he stretched
+himself out at full length upon the soft turf, and closed his eyes.
+
+Insensibly he fell asleep. How long he slept he could not tell. He was
+finally roused from his slumber by something cold touching his cheek.
+Starting up he rubbed his eyes in bewilderment, and gradually became
+aware that this something was the nose of a Newfoundland dog, whose keen
+scent had enabled him to discover the whereabouts of the small stock
+of provisions with which Paul had been supplied by his late companion.
+Fortunately he awoke in time to save its becoming the prey of its canine
+visitor.
+
+“I reckon you came nigh losing your dinner,” fell upon his ears in a
+rough but hearty tone.
+
+At the same time he heard the noise of wheels, and looking up, beheld a
+specimen of a class well known throughout New England--a tin pedler. He
+was seated on a cart liberally stocked with articles of tin ware. From
+the rear depended two immense bags, one of which served as a receptacle
+for white rags, the other for bits of calico and whatever else may fall
+under the designation of “colored.” His shop, for such it was, was
+drawn at a brisk pace by a stout horse, who in this respect presented a
+contrast to his master, who was long and lank. The pedler himself was
+a man of perhaps forty, with a face in which shrewdness and good humor
+seemed alike indicated. Take him for all in all, you might travel some
+distance without falling in with a more complete specimen of the Yankee.
+
+“So you came nigh losing your dinner,” he repeated, in a pleasant tone.
+
+“Yes,” said Paul, “I got tired and fell asleep, and I don't know when I
+should have waked up but for your dog.”
+
+“Yes, Boney's got a keen scent for provisions,” laughed the pedler.
+“He's a little graspin', like his namesake. You see his real name is
+Bonaparte; we only call him Boney, for short.”
+
+Meanwhile he had stopped his horse. He was about to start afresh, when a
+thought struck him.
+
+“Maybe you're goin' my way,” said he, turning to Paul; “if you are,
+you're welcome to a ride.”
+
+Paul was very glad to accept the invitation. He clambered into the cart,
+and took a seat behind the pedler, while Boney, who took his recent
+disappointment very good-naturedly, jogged on contentedly behind.
+
+“How far are you goin'?” asked Paul's new acquaintance, as he whipped up
+his horse.
+
+Paul felt a little embarrassed. If he had been acquainted with the names
+of any of the villages on the route he might easily have answered. As it
+was, only one name occurred to him.
+
+“I think,” said he, with some hesitation, “that I shall go to New York.”
+
+“New York!” repeated the pedler, with a whistle expressive of his
+astonishment.
+
+“Well, you've a journey before you. Got any relations there?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“No uncles, aunts, cousins, nor nothing?”
+
+Paul shook his head.
+
+“Then what makes you go? Haven't run away from your father and mother,
+hey?” asked the pedler, with a knowing look.
+
+“I have no father nor mother,” said Paul, sadly enough.
+
+“Well, you had somebody to take care of you, I calculate. Where did you
+live?”
+
+“If I tell you, you won't carry me back?” said Paul, anxiously.
+
+“Not a bit of it. I've got too much business on hand for that.”
+
+Relieved by this assurance, Paul told his story, encouraged thereto
+by frequent questions from his companion, who seemed to take a lively
+interest in the adventures of his young companion.
+
+“That's a capital trick you played on old Mudge,” he said with a hearty
+laugh which almost made the tins rattle. “I don't blame you a bit for
+running away. I've got a story to tell you about Mrs. Mudge. She's a
+regular skinflint.”
+
+
+
+
+XI.
+
+WAYSIDE GOSSIP.
+
+
+This was the pedler's promised story about Mrs. Mudge.
+
+“The last time I was round that way, I stopped, thinking maybe they
+might have some rags to dispose of for tin-ware. The old lady seemed
+glad to see me, and pretty soon she brought down a lot of white rags.
+I thought they seemed quite heavy for their bulk,--howsomever, I wasn't
+looking for any tricks, and I let it go. By-and-by, when I happened to
+be ransacking one of the bags, I came across half a dozen pounds or more
+of old iron tied up in a white cloth. That let the cat out of the bag. I
+knew why they were so heavy, then, I reckon I shan't call on Mrs. Mudge
+next time I go by.”
+
+“So you've run off,” he continued, after a pause, “I like your
+spunk,--just what I should have done myself. But tell me how you managed
+to get off without the old chap's finding it out.”
+
+Paul related such of his adventures as he had not before told, his
+companion listening with marked approval.
+
+“I wish I'd been there,” he said. “I'd have given fifty cents, right
+out, to see how old Mudge looked, I calc'late he's pretty well tired
+with his wild-goose chase by this time.”
+
+It was now twelve o'clock, and both the travelers began to feel the
+pangs of hunger.
+
+“It's about time to bait, I calc'late,” remarked the pedler.
+
+The unsophisticated reader is informed that the word “bait,” in New
+England phraseology, is applied to taking lunch or dining.
+
+At this point a green lane opened out of the public road, skirted on
+either side by a row of trees. Carpeted with green, it made a very
+pleasant dining-room. A red-and-white heifer browsing at a little
+distance looked up from her meal and surveyed the intruders with mild
+attention, but apparently satisfied that they contemplated no invasion
+of her rights, resumed her agreeable employment. Over an irregular stone
+wall our travelers looked into a thrifty apple-orchard laden with fruit.
+They halted beneath a spreading chestnut-tree which towered above its
+neighbors, and offered them a grateful shelter from the noonday sun.
+
+From the box underneath the seat, the pedler took out a loaf of bread,
+a slice of butter, and a tin pail full of doughnuts. Paul, on his side,
+brought out his bread and gingerbread.
+
+“I most generally carry round my own provisions,” remarked the pedler,
+between two mouthfuls. “It's a good deal cheaper and more convenient,
+too. Help yourself to the doughnuts. I always calc'late to have some
+with me. I'd give more for 'em any day than for rich cake that ain't
+fit for anybody. My mother used to beat everybody in the neighborhood on
+making doughnuts. She made 'em so good that we never knew when to stop
+eating. You wouldn't hardly believe it, but, when I was a little shaver,
+I remember eating twenty-three doughnuts at one time. Pretty nigh killed
+me.”
+
+“I should think it might,” said Paul, laughing.
+
+“Mother got so scared that she vowed she wouldn't fry another for three
+months, but I guess she kinder lost the run of the almanac, for in less
+than a week she turned out about a bushel more.”
+
+All this time the pedler was engaged in practically refuting the saying,
+that a man cannot do two things at once. With a little assistance from
+Paul, the stock of doughnuts on which he had been lavishing encomiums,
+diminished rapidly. It was evident that his attachment to this homely
+article of diet was quite as strong as ever.
+
+“Don't be afraid of them,” said he, seeing that Paul desisted from his
+efforts, “I've got plenty more in the box.”
+
+Paul signified that his appetite was already appeased.
+
+“Then we might as well be jogging on. Hey, Goliah,” said he, addressing
+the horse, who with an air of great content, had been browsing while his
+master was engaged in a similar manner. “Queer name for a horse, isn't
+it? I wanted something out of the common way, so I asked mother for a
+name, and she gave me that. She's great on scripture names, mother
+is. She gave one to every one of her children. It didn't make much
+difference to her what they were as long as they were in the Bible. I
+believe she used to open the Bible at random, and take the first name
+she happened to come across. There are eight of us, and nary a decent
+name in the lot. My oldest brother's name is Abimelech. Then there's
+Pharaoh, and Ishmael, and Jonadab, for the boys, and Leah and Naomi, for
+the girls; but my name beats all. You couldn't guess it?”
+
+Paul shook his head.
+
+“I don't believe you could,” said the pedler, shaking his head in comic
+indignation. “It's Jehoshaphat. Ain't that a respectable name for the
+son of Christian parents?”
+
+Paul laughed.
+
+“It wouldn't be so bad,” continued the pedler, “if my other name was
+longer; but Jehoshaphat seems rather a long handle to put before Stubbs.
+I can't say I feel particularly proud of the name, though for use it'll
+do as well as any other. At any rate, it ain't quite so bad as the name
+mother pitched on for my youngest sister, who was lucky enough to die
+before she needed a name.”
+
+“What was it?” inquired Paul, really curious to know what name could be
+considered less desirable than Jehoshaphat.
+
+“It was Jezebel,” responded the pedler.
+
+“Everybody told mother 'twould never do; but she was kind of
+superstitious about it, because that was the first name she came to
+in the Bible, and so she thought it was the Lord's will that that name
+should be given to the child.”
+
+As Mr. Stubbs finished his disquisition upon names, there came in sight
+a small house, dark and discolored with age and neglect. He pointed this
+out to Paul with his whip-handle.
+
+“That,” said he, “is where old Keziah Onthank lives. Ever heard of him?”
+
+Paul had not.
+
+“He's the oldest man in these parts,” pursued his loquacious companion.
+“There's some folks that seem a dyin' all the time, and for all that
+manage to outlive half the young folks in the neighborhood. Old Keziah
+Onthank is a complete case in p'int. As long ago as when I was cutting
+my teeth he was so old that nobody know'd how old he was. He was so
+bowed over that he couldn't see himself in the looking-glass unless you
+put it on the floor, and I guess even then what he saw wouldn't pay
+him for his trouble. He was always ailin' some way or other. Now it was
+rheumatism, now the palsy, and then again the asthma. He had THAT awful.
+
+“He lived in the same tumble-down old shanty we have just passed,--so
+poor that nobody'd take the gift of it. People said that he'd orter go
+to the poorhouse, so that when he was sick--which was pretty much all
+the time--he'd have somebody to take care of him. But he'd got kinder
+attached to the old place, seein' he was born there, and never lived
+anywhere else, and go he wouldn't.
+
+“Everybody expected he was near his end, and nobody'd have been
+surprised to hear of his death at any minute. But it's strange how some
+folks are determined to live on, as I said before. So Keziah, though he
+looked so old when I was a boy that it didn't seem as if he could look
+any older, kept on livin,' and livin', and arter I got married to Betsy
+Sprague, he was livin' still.
+
+“One day, I remember I was passin' by the old man's shanty, when I heard
+a dreadful groanin', and thinks I to myself, 'I shouldn't wonder if the
+old man was on his last legs.' So in I bolted. There he was, to be sure,
+a lyin', on the bed, all curled up into a heap, breathin' dreadful hard,
+and lookin' as white and pale as any ghost. I didn't know exactly
+what to do, so I went and got some water, but he motioned it away, and
+wouldn't drink it, but kept on groanin'.
+
+“'He mustn't be left here to die without any assistance,' thinks I, so I
+ran off as fast I could to find the doctor.
+
+“I found him eatin' dinner----
+
+“Come quick,” says I, “to old Keziah Onthank's. He's dyin', as sure as
+my name is Jehoshaphat.”
+
+“Well,” said the doctor, “die or no die, I can't come till I've eaten my
+dinner.”
+
+“But he's dyin', doctor.”
+
+“Oh, nonsense. Talk of old Keziah Onthank's dyin'. He'll live longer
+than I shall.”
+
+“I recollect I thought the doctor very unfeelin' to talk so of a fellow
+creetur, just stepping into eternity, as a body may say. However, it's
+no use drivin' a horse that's made up his mind he won't go, so although
+I did think the doctor dreadful deliberate about eatin' his dinner (he
+always would take half an hour for it), I didn't dare to say a word
+for fear he wouldn't come at all. You see the doctor was dreadful
+independent, and was bent on havin' his own way, pretty much, though for
+that matter I think it's the case with most folks. However, to come back
+to my story, I didn't feel particularly comfortable while I was waitin'
+his motions.
+
+“After a long while the doctor got ready. I was in such a hurry that I
+actilly pulled him along, he walked so slow; but he only laughed, and
+I couldn't help thinkin' that doctorin' had a hardinin' effect on the
+heart. I was determined if ever I fell sick I wouldn't send for him.
+
+“At last we got there. I went in all of a tremble, and crept to the bed,
+thinkin' I should see his dead body. But he wasn't there at all. I felt
+a little bothered you'd better believe.”
+
+“Well,” said the doctor, turning to me with a smile, “what do you think
+now?”
+
+“I don't know what to think,” said I.
+
+“Then I'll help you,” said he.
+
+“So sayin', he took me to the winder, and what do you think I see? As
+sure as I'm alive, there was the old man in the back yard, a squattin'
+down and pickin' up chips.”
+
+“And is he still living?”
+
+“Yes, or he was when I come along last. The doctor's been dead these
+ten years. He told me old Keziah would outlive him, but I didn't believe
+him. I shouldn't be surprised if he lived forever.”
+
+Paul listened with amused interest to this and other stories with which
+his companion beguiled the way. They served to divert his mind from
+the realities of his condition, and the uncertainty which hung over his
+worldly prospects.
+
+
+
+
+XII.
+
+ON THE BRINK OF DISCOVERY.
+
+
+“If you're in no great hurry to go to New York,” said the pedler, “I
+should like to have you stay with me for a day or two. I live about
+twenty-five miles from here, straight ahead, so it will be on your way.
+I always manage to get home by Saturday night if it is any way possible.
+It doesn't seem comfortable to be away Sunday. As to-day is Friday, I
+shall get there to-morrow. So you can lie over a day and rest yourself.”
+
+Paul felt grateful for this unexpected invitation. It lifted quite a
+load from his mind, since, as the day declined, certain anxious thoughts
+as to where he should find shelter, had obtruded themselves. Even now,
+the same trouble would be experienced on Monday night, but it is the
+characteristic of youth to pay little regard to anticipated difficulties
+as long as the present is provided for.
+
+It must not be supposed that the pedler neglected his business on
+account of his companion. On the road he had been traveling the houses
+were few and far between. He had, therefore, but few calls to make.
+Paul remarked, however, that when he did call he seldom failed to sell
+something.
+
+“Yes,” said Mr. Stubbs, on being interrogated, “I make it a p'int to
+sell something, if it's no more than a tin dipper. I find some hard
+cases sometimes, and sometimes I have to give it up altogether. I can't
+quite come up to a friend of mine, Daniel Watson, who used to be in
+the same line of business. I never knew him to stop at a place without
+selling something. He had a good deal of judgment, Daniel had, and knew
+just when to use 'soft sodder,' and when not to. On the road that he
+traveled there lived a widow woman, who had the reputation of being as
+ugly, cross-grained a critter as ever lived. People used to say that
+it was enough to turn milk sour for her even to look at it. Well, it so
+happened that Daniel had never called there. One night he was boasting
+that he never called at a house without driving a bargain, when one
+of the company asked him, with a laugh, if he had ever sold the widow
+anything.
+
+“Why, no,” said Daniel, “I never called there; but I've no doubt I
+could.”
+
+“What'll you bet of it?”
+
+“I'm not a betting man,” said Daniel, “but I feel so sure of it that I
+don't mind risking five dollars.”
+
+“Agreed.”
+
+“The next morning Daniel drove leisurely up to the widow's door and
+knocked. She had a great aversion to pedlers, and declared they were
+cheats, every one of them. She was busy sweeping when Daniel knocked.
+She came to the door in a dreadful hurry, hoping it might be an old
+widower in the neighborhood that she was trying to catch. When she saw
+how much she was mistaken she looked as black as a thundercloud.
+
+“Want any tin ware to-day, ma'am?” inquired Daniel, noways discomposed.
+
+“No, sir,” snapped she.
+
+“Got all kinds,--warranted the best in the market. Couldn't I sell you
+something?”
+
+“Not a single thing,” said she, preparing to shut the door; but Daniel,
+knowing all would then be lost, stepped in before she could shut it
+quite to, and began to name over some of the articles he had in his
+wagon.
+
+“You may talk till doomsday,” said the widow, as mad as could be, “and
+it won't do a particle of good. Now, you've got your answer, and you'd
+better leave the house before you are driven out.”
+
+“Brooms, brushes, lamps----”
+
+“Here the widow, who had been trying to keep in her anger, couldn't hold
+out any longer. She seized the broom she had been sweeping with, and
+brought it down with a tremendous whack upon Daniel's back. You can
+imagine how hard it was, when I tell you that the force of the blow
+snapped the broom in the middle. You might have thought Daniel would
+resent it, but he didn't appear to notice it, though it must have hurt
+him awful. He picked up the pieces, and handing them, with a polite bow,
+to the widow, said, 'Now, ma'am, I'm sure you need a new broom. I've got
+some capital ones out in the cart.'”
+
+“The widow seemed kind of overpowered by his coolness. She hardly knew
+what to say or what to think. However, she had broken her old broom,
+that was certain, and must have a new one; so when Daniel ran out and
+brought in a bundle of them, she picked out one and paid for it without
+saying a word; only, when Daniel asked if he might have the pleasure
+of calling again, she looked a little queer, and told him that if he
+considered it a pleasure, she had no objection.”
+
+“And did he call again?”
+
+“Yes, whenever he went that way. The widow was always very polite to him
+after that, and, though she had a mortal dislike to pedlers in general,
+she was always ready to trade with him. Daniel used to say that he
+gained his bet and the widow's custom at ONE BLOW.”
+
+They were now descending a little hill at the foot of which stood a
+country tavern. Here Mr. Stubbs declared his intention of spending the
+night. He drove into the barn, the large door of which stood invitingly
+open, and unharnessed his horse, taking especial care to rub him down
+and set before him an ample supply of provender.
+
+“I always take care of Goliah myself,” said he. “He's a good friend to
+me, and it's no more than right that I should take good care of him.
+Now, we'll go into the house, and see what we can get for supper.”
+
+He was surprised to see that Paul hung back, and seemed disinclined to
+follow.
+
+“What's the matter?” asked Mr. Stubbs, in surprise. “Why don't you
+come?”
+
+“Because,” said Paul, looking embarrassed, “I've got no money.”
+
+“Well, I have,” said Mr. Stubbs, “and that will answer just as well, so
+come along, and don't be bashful. I'm about as hungry as a bear, and I
+guess you are too.”
+
+Before many minutes, Paul sat down to a more bountiful repast than
+he had partaken of for many a day. There were warm biscuits and fresh
+butter, such as might please the palate of an epicure, while at the
+other end of the table was a plate of cake, flanked on one side by an
+apple-pie, on the other by one of pumpkin, with its rich golden hue,
+such as is to be found in its perfection, only in New England. It will
+scarcely be doubted that our hungry travellers did full justice to the
+fare set before them.
+
+When they had finished, they went into the public room, where were
+engaged some of the village worthies, intent on discussing the news
+and the political questions of the day. It was a time of considerable
+political excitement, and this naturally supplied the topic of
+conversation. In this the pedler joined, for his frequent travel on this
+route had made him familiarly acquainted with many of those present.
+
+Paul sat in a corner, trying to feel interested in the conversation; but
+the day had been a long one, and he had undergone an unusual amount of
+fatigue. Gradually, his drowsiness increased. The many voices fell upon
+his ears like a lullaby, and in a few minutes he was fast asleep.
+
+Early next morning they were up and on their way. It was the second
+morning since Paul's departure. Already a sense of freedom gave his
+spirits unwonted elasticity, and encouraged him to hope for the best.
+Had his knowledge of the future been greater, his confidence might have
+been less. But would he have been any happier?
+
+So many miles separated him from his late home, that he supposed himself
+quite safe from detection. A slight circumstance warned him that he must
+still be watchful and cautious.
+
+As they were jogging easily along, they heard the noise of wheels at a
+little distance. Paul looked up. To his great alarms he recognized
+in the driver of the approaching vehicle, one of the selectmen of
+Wrenville.
+
+“What's the matter?” asked his companion, noticing his sudden look of
+apprehension.
+
+Paul quickly communicated the ground of his alarm.
+
+“And you are afraid he will want to carry you back, are you?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Not a bit of it. We'll circumvent the old fellow, unless he's sharper
+than I think he is. You've only got to do as I tell you.”
+
+To this Paul quickly agreed.
+
+The selectman was already within a hundred rods. He had not yet
+apparently noticed the pedler's cart, so that this was in our hero's
+favor. Mr. Stubbs had already arranged his plan of operations.
+
+“This is what you are to do, Paul,” said he, quickly. “Cock your hat on
+the side of your head, considerably forward, so that he can't see much
+of your face. Then here's a cigar to stick in your mouth. You can make
+believe that you are smoking. If you are the sort of boy I reckon you
+are, he'll never think it's you.”
+
+Paul instantly adopted this suggestion.
+
+Slipping his hat to one side in the jaunty manner characteristic of
+young America, he began to puff very gravely at a cigar the pedler
+handed him, frequently taking it from his mouth, as he had seen older
+persons do, to knock away the ashes. Nothwithstanding his alarm, his
+love of fun made him enjoy this little stratagem, in which he bore his
+part successfully.
+
+The selectman eyed him intently. Paul began to tremble from fear of
+discovery, but his apprehensions were speedily dissipated by a remark of
+the new-comer, “My boy, you are forming a very bad habit.”
+
+Paul did not dare to answer lest his voice should betray him. To his
+relief, the pedler spoke----
+
+“Just what I tell him, sir, but I suppose he thinks he must do as his
+father does.”
+
+By this time the vehicles had passed each other, and the immediate peril
+was over.
+
+“Now, Paul,” said his companion, laughing, “I'll trouble you for that
+cigar, if you have done with it. The old gentleman's advice was good. If
+I'd never learned to smoke, I wouldn't begin now.”
+
+Our hero was glad to take the cigar from his mouth. The brief time he
+had held it was sufficient to make him slightly dizzy.
+
+
+
+
+XIII.
+
+PAUL REACHES THE CITY.
+
+
+Towards evening they drew up before a small house with a neat yard in
+front.
+
+“I guess we'll get out here,” said Mr. Stubbs. “There's a gentleman
+lives here that I feel pretty well acquainted with. Shouldn't wonder if
+he'd let us stop over Sunday. Whoa, Goliah, glad to get home, hey?” as
+the horse pricked up his ears and showed manifest signs of satisfaction.
+
+“Now, youngster, follow me, and I guess I can promise you some supper,
+if Mrs. Stubbs hasn't forgotten her old tricks.”
+
+They passed through the entry into the kitchen, where Mrs. Stubbs was
+discovered before the fire toasting slices of bread.
+
+“Lor, Jehoshaphat,” said she, “I didn't expect you so soon,” and she
+looked inquiringly at his companion.
+
+“A young friend who is going to stay with us till Monday,” explained the
+pedler. “His name is Paul Prescott.”
+
+“I'm glad to see you, Paul,” said Mrs. Stubbs with a friendly smile.
+“You must be tired if you've been traveling far. Take a seat. Here's a
+rocking-chair for you.”
+
+This friendly greeting made Paul feel quite at home. Having no children,
+the pedler and his wife exerted themselves to make the time pass
+pleasantly to their young acquaintance. Paul could not help contrasting
+them with Mr. and Mrs. Mudge, not very much to the advantage of
+the latter. On Sunday he went to church with them, and the peculiar
+circumstances in which he was placed, made him listen to the sermon with
+unusual attention. It was an exposition of the text, “My help cometh
+from the Lord,” and Paul could not help feeling that it was particularly
+applicable to his own case. It encouraged him to hope, that, however
+uncertain his prospects appeared, God would help him if he put his trust
+in Him.
+
+On Monday morning Paul resumed his journey, with an ample stock of
+provisions supplied by Mrs. Stubbs, in the list of which doughnuts
+occupied a prominent place; this being at the particular suggestion of
+Mr. Stubbs.
+
+Forty or fifty miles remained to be traversed before his destination
+would be reached. The road was not a difficult one to find, and he made
+it out without much questioning. The first night, he sought permission
+to sleep in a barn.
+
+He met with a decided refusal.
+
+He was about to turn away in disappointment, when he was called back.
+
+“You are a little too fast, youngster. I said I wouldn't let you sleep
+in my barn, and I won't; but I've got a spare bed in the house, and if
+you choose you shall occupy it.”
+
+Under the guise of roughness, this man had a kind heart. He inquired
+into the particulars of Paul's story, and at the conclusion terrified
+him by saying that he had been very foolish and ought to be sent back.
+Nevertheless, when Paul took leave of him the next morning, he did not
+go away empty-handed.
+
+“If you must be so foolish as to set up for yourself, take this,” said
+the farmer, placing half a dollar in his hand. “You may reach the city
+after the banks are closed for the day, you know,” he added, jocularly.
+
+But it was in the morning that Paul came in sight of the city. He
+climbed up into a high tree, which, having the benefit of an elevated
+situation, afforded him an extensive prospect. Before him lay the great
+city of which he had so often heard, teeming with life and activity.
+
+Half in eager anticipation, half in awe and wonder at its vastness, our
+young pilgrim stood upon the threshold of this great Babel.
+
+Everything looked new and strange. It had never entered Paul's mind,
+that there could be so many houses in the whole State as now rose up
+before him. He got into Broadway, and walked on and on thinking that
+the street must end somewhere. But the farther he walked the thicker the
+houses seemed crowded together. Every few rods, too, he came to a cross
+street, which seemed quite as densely peopled as the one on which he was
+walking. One part of the city was the same as another to Paul, since
+he was equally a stranger to all. He wandered listlessly along, whither
+fancy led. His mind was constantly excited by the new and strange
+objects which met him at every step.
+
+As he was looking in at a shop window, a boy of about his own age,
+stopped and inquired confidentially, “when did you come from the
+country?”
+
+“This morning,” said Paul, wondering how a stranger should know that he
+was a country boy.
+
+“Could you tell me what is the price of potatoes up your way?” asked the
+other boy, with perfect gravity.
+
+“I don't know,” said Paul, innocently.
+
+“I'm sorry for that,” said the other, “as I have got to buy some for my
+wife and family.”
+
+Paul stared in surprise for a moment, and then realizing that he was
+being made game of, began to grow angry.
+
+“You'd better go home to your wife and family,” he said with spirit, “or
+you may get hurt.”
+
+“Bully for you, country!” answered the other with a laugh. “You're not
+as green as you look.”
+
+“Thank you,” said Paul, “I wish I could say as much for you.”
+
+Tired with walking, Paul at length sat down in a doorway, and watched
+with interest the hurrying crowds that passed before him. Everybody
+seemed to be in a hurry, pressing forward as if life and death depended
+on his haste. There were lawyers with their sharp, keen glances;
+merchants with calculating faces; speculators pondering on the chances
+of a rise or fall in stocks; errand boys with bundles under their arms;
+business men hurrying to the slip to take the boat for Brooklyn or
+Jersey City,--all seemed intent on business of some kind, even to the
+ragged newsboys who had just obtained their supply of evening papers,
+and were now crying them at the top of their voices,--and very
+discordant ones at that, so Paul thought. Of the hundreds passing and
+repassing before him, every one had something to do. Every one had a
+home to go to. Perhaps it was not altogether strange that a feeling of
+desolation should come over Paul as he recollected that he stood alone,
+homeless, friendless, and, it might be, shelterless for the coming
+night.
+
+“Yet,” thought he with something of hopefulness, “there must be
+something for me to do as well as the rest.”
+
+Just then a boy some two years older than Paul paced slowly by, and
+in passing, chanced to fix his eyes upon our hero. He probably saw
+something in Paul which attracted him, for he stepped up and extending
+his hand, said, “why, Tom, how came you here?”
+
+“My name isn't Tom,” said Paul, feeling a little puzzled by this
+address.
+
+“Why, so it isn't. But you look just like my friend, Tom Crocker.”
+
+To this succeeded a few inquiries, which Paul unsuspiciously answered.
+
+“Do you like oysters?” inquired the new-comer, after a while.
+
+“Very much.”
+
+“Because I know of a tip top place to get some, just round the corner.
+Wouldn't you like some?”
+
+Paul thanked his new acquaintance, and said he would.
+
+Without more ado, his companion ushered him into a basement room near
+by. He led the way into a curtained recess, and both boys took seats one
+on each side of a small table.
+
+“Just pull the bell, will you, and tell the waiter we'll have two
+stews.”
+
+Paul did so.
+
+“I suppose,” continued the other, “the governor wouldn't like it much if
+he knew where I was.”
+
+“The governor!” repeated Paul. “Why, it isn't against the laws, is it?”
+
+“No,” laughed the other. “I mean my father. How jolly queer you are!” He
+meant to say green, but had a purpose in not offending Paul.
+
+“Are you the Governor's son?” asked Paul in amazement.
+
+“To be sure,” carelessly replied the other.
+
+Paul's wonder had been excited many times in the course of the day, but
+this was more surprising than anything which had yet befallen him. That
+he should have the luck to fall in with the son of the Governor, on his
+first arrival in the city, and that the latter should prove so affable
+and condescending, was indeed surprising. Paul inwardly determined
+to mention it in his first letter to Aunt Lucy. He could imagine her
+astonishment.
+
+While he was busy with these thoughts, his companion had finished his
+oysters.
+
+“Most through?” he inquired nonchalantly.
+
+“I've got to step out a minute; wait till I come back.”
+
+Paul unsuspectingly assented.
+
+He heard his companion say a word to the barkeeper, and then go out.
+
+He waited patiently for fifteen minutes and he did not return; another
+quarter of an hour, and he was still absent. Thinking he might have
+been unexpectedly detained, he rose to go, but was called back by the
+barkeeper.
+
+“Hallo, youngster! are you going off without paying?”
+
+“For what?” inquired Paul, in surprise.
+
+“For the oysters, of course. You don't suppose I give 'em away, do you?”
+
+“I thought,” hesitated Paul, “that the one who was with me paid,--the
+Governor's son,” he added, conscious of a certain pride in his intimacy
+with one so nearly related to the chief magistrate of the Commonwealth.
+
+“The Governor's son,” laughed the barkeeper. “Why the Governor lives a
+hundred miles off and more. That wasn't the Governor's son any more than
+I am.”
+
+“He called his father governor,” said Paul, beginning to be afraid that
+he had made some ridiculous blunder.
+
+“Well, I wouldn't advise you to trust him again, even if he's the
+President's son. He only got you in here to pay for his oysters. He told
+me when he went out that you would pay for them.”
+
+“And didn't he say he was coming back?” asked Paul, quite dumbfounded.
+
+“He said you hadn't quite finished, but would pay for both when you came
+out. It's two shillings.”
+
+Paul rather ruefully took out the half dollar which constituted his
+entire stock of money, and tendered it to the barkeeper who returned him
+the change.
+
+So Paul went out into the streets, with his confidence in human nature
+somewhat lessened.
+
+Here, then, is our hero with twenty-five cents in his pocket, and his
+fortune to make.
+
+
+
+
+XIV.
+
+A STRANGE BED-CHAMBER.
+
+
+Although Paul could not help being vexed at having been so cleverly
+taken in by his late companion, he felt the better for having eaten the
+oysters. Carefully depositing his only remaining coin in his pocket, he
+resumed his wanderings. It is said that a hearty meal is a good promoter
+of cheerfulness. It was so in Paul's case, and although he had as yet
+had no idea where he should find shelter for the night he did not allow
+that consideration to trouble him.
+
+So the day passed, and the evening came on. Paul's appetite returned to
+him once more. He invested one-half of his money at an old woman's stall
+for cakes and apples, and then he ate leisurely while leaning against
+the iron railing which encircles the park.
+
+He began to watch with interest the movements of those about him.
+Already the lamplighter had started on his accustomed round, and with
+ladder in hand was making his way from one lamp-post to another. Paul
+quite marvelled at the celerity with which the lamps were lighted, never
+before having witnessed the use of gas. He was so much interested in the
+process that he sauntered along behind the lamplighter for some time. At
+length his eye fell upon a group common enough in our cities, but new to
+him.
+
+An Italian, short and dark-featured, with a velvet cap, was grinding out
+music from a hand-organ, while a woman with a complexion equally
+dark, and black sorrowful-looking eyes, accompanied her husband on the
+tambourine. They were playing a lively tune as Paul came up, but quickly
+glided into “Home, Sweet Home.”
+
+Paul listened with pleased, yet sad interest, for him “home” was only a
+sad remembrance.
+
+He wandered on, pausing now and then to look into one of the brilliantly
+illuminated shop windows, or catching a glimpse through the open doors
+of the gay scene within, and as one after another of these lively scenes
+passed before him, he began to think that all the strange and wonderful
+things in the world must be collected in these rich stores.
+
+Next, he came to a place of public amusement. Crowds were entering
+constantly, and Paul, from curiosity, entered too. He passed on to a
+little wicket, when a man stopped him.
+
+“Where's your ticket?” he asked.
+
+“I haven't got any,” said Paul.
+
+“Then what business have you here?” said the man, roughly.
+
+“Isn't this a meeting-house?” asked Paul.
+
+This remark seemed to amuse two boys who were standing by. Looking up
+with some indignation, Paul recognized in one of them the boy who had
+cheated him out of the oysters.
+
+“Look here,” said Paul, “what made you go off and leave me to pay for
+the oysters this morning?”
+
+“Which of us do you mean?” inquired the 'governor's son,' carelessly.
+
+“I mean you.”
+
+“Really, I don't understand your meaning. Perhaps you mistake me for
+somebody else.”
+
+“What?” said Paul, in great astonishment. “Don't you remember me, and
+how you told me you were the Governor's son?”
+
+Both boys laughed.
+
+“You must be mistaken. I haven't the honor of being related to the
+distinguished gentleman you name.”
+
+The speaker made a mocking bow to Paul.
+
+“I know that,” said Paul, with spirit, “but you said you were, for all
+that.”
+
+“It must have been some other good-looking boy, that you are mistaking
+me for. What are you going to do about it? I hope, by the way, that the
+oysters agreed with you.”
+
+“Yes, they did,” said Paul, “for I came honestly by them.”
+
+“He's got you there, Gerald,” said the other boy.
+
+Paul made his way out of the theater. As his funds were reduced to
+twelve cents, he could not have purchased a ticket if he had desired it.
+
+Still he moved on.
+
+Soon he came to another building, which was in like manner lighted up,
+but not so brilliantly as the theater. This time, from the appearance
+of the building, and from the tall steeple,--so tall that his eye could
+scarcely reach the tapering spire,--he knew that it must be a church.
+There was not such a crowd gathered about the door as at the place he
+had just left, but he saw a few persons entering, and he joined them.
+The interior of the church was far more gorgeous than the plain village
+meeting-house which he had been accustomed to attend with his mother. He
+gazed about him with a feeling of awe, and sank quietly into a back
+pew. As it was a week-day evening, and nothing of unusual interest was
+anticipated, there were but few present, here and there one, scattered
+through the capacious edifice.
+
+By-and-by the organist commenced playing, and a flood of music, grander
+and more solemn than he had ever heard, filled the whole edifice. He
+listened with rapt attention and suspended breath till the last note
+died away, and then sank back upon the richly cushioned seat with a
+feeling of enjoyment.
+
+In the services which followed he was not so much interested. The
+officiating clergyman delivered a long homily in a dull unimpassioned
+manner, which failed to awaken his interest. Already disposed to be
+drowsy, it acted upon him like a gentle soporific. He tried to pay
+attention as he had always been used to do, but owing to his occupying a
+back seat, and the low voice of the preacher, but few words reached him,
+and those for the most part were above his comprehension.
+
+Gradually the feeling of fatigue--for he had been walking the streets
+all day--became so powerful that his struggles to keep awake became
+harder and harder. In vain he sat erect, resolved not to yield. The
+moment afterwards his head inclined to one side; the lights began to
+swim before his eyes; the voice of the preacher subsided into a low and
+undistinguishable hum. Paul's head sank upon the cushion, his bundle,
+which had been his constant companion during the day, fell softly to the
+floor, and he fell into a deep sleep.
+
+Meanwhile the sermon came to a close, and another hymn was sung, but
+even the music was insufficient to wake our hero now. So the benediction
+was pronounced, and the people opened the doors of their pews and left
+the church.
+
+Last of all the sexton walked up and down the aisles, closing such of
+the pew doors as were open. Then he shut off the gas, and after
+looking around to see that nothing was forgotten, went out, apparently
+satisfied, and locked the outer door behind him.
+
+Paul, meanwhile, wholly unconscious of his situation, slept on as
+tranquilly as if there were nothing unusual in the circumstances in
+which he was placed. Through the stained windows the softened light fell
+upon his tranquil countenance, on which a smile played, as if his dreams
+were pleasant. What would Aunt Lucy have thought if she could have seen
+her young friend at this moment?
+
+
+
+
+XV.
+
+A TURN OF FORTUNE.
+
+Notwithstanding his singular bedchamber, Paul had a refreshing night's
+sleep from which he did not awake till the sun had fairly risen, and its
+rays colored by the medium through which they were reflected, streamed
+in at the windows and rested in many fantastic lines on the richly
+carved pulpit and luxurious pews.
+
+Paul sprang to his feet and looked around him in bewilderment.
+
+“Where am I?” he exclaimed in astonishment.
+
+In the momentary confusion of ideas which is apt to follow a sudden
+awakening, he could not remember where he was, or how he chanced to
+be there. But in a moment memory came to his aid, and he recalled the
+events of the preceding day, and saw that he must have been locked up in
+the church.
+
+“How am I going to get out?” Paul asked himself in dismay.
+
+This was the important question just now. He remembered that the village
+meeting-house which he had been accustomed to attend was rarely opened
+except on Sundays. What if this should be the case here? It was Thursday
+morning, and three days must elapse before his release. This would never
+do. He must seek some earlier mode of deliverance.
+
+He went first to the windows, but found them so secured that it was
+impossible for him to get them open. He tried the doors, but found, as
+he had anticipated, that they were fast. His last resource failing, he
+was at liberty to follow the dictates of his curiosity.
+
+Finding a small door partly open, he peeped within, and found a flight
+of steep stairs rising before him. They wound round and round, and
+seemed almost interminable. At length, after he had become almost weary
+of ascending, he came to a small window, out of which he looked. At his
+feet lay the numberless roofs of the city, while not far away his eye
+rested on thousands of masts. The river sparkled in the sun, and Paul,
+in spite of his concern, could not help enjoying the scene. The sound
+of horses and carriages moving along the great thoroughfare below came
+confusedly to his ears. He leaned forward to look down, but the distance
+was so much greater than he had thought, that he drew back in alarm.
+
+“What shall I do?” Paul asked himself, rather frightened. “I wonder if I
+can stand going without food for three days? I suppose nobody would hear
+me if I should scream as loud as I could.”
+
+Paul shouted, but there was so much noise in the streets that nobody
+probably heard him.
+
+He descended the staircase, and once more found himself in the body
+of the church. He went up into the pulpit, but there seemed no hope of
+escape in that direction. There was a door leading out on one side, but
+this only led to a little room into which the minister retired before
+service.
+
+It seemed rather odd to Paul to find himself the sole occupant of so
+large a building. He began to wonder whether it would not have been
+better for him to stay in the poorhouse, than come to New York to die of
+starvation.
+
+Just at this moment Paul heard a key rattle in the outer door. Filled
+with new hope, he ran down the pulpit stairs and out into the porch,
+just in time to see the entrance of the sexton.
+
+The sexton started in surprise as his eye fell upon Paul standing before
+him, with his bundle under his arm.
+
+“Where did you come from, and how came you here?” he asked with some
+suspicion.
+
+“I came in last night, and fell asleep.”
+
+“So you passed the night here?”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“What made you come in at all?” inquired the sexton, who knew enough of
+boys to be curious upon this point.
+
+“I didn't know where else to go,” said Paul.
+
+“Where do you live?”
+
+Paul answered with perfect truth, “I don't live anywhere.”
+
+“What! Have you no home?” asked the sexton in surprise.
+
+Paul shook his head.
+
+“Where should you have slept if you hadn't come in here?”
+
+“I don't know, I'm sure.”
+
+“And I suppose you don't know where you shall sleep to-night?”
+
+Paul signified that he did not.
+
+“I knew there were plenty of such cases,” said the sexton, meditatively;
+“but I never seemed to realize it before.”
+
+“How long have you been in New York?” was his next inquiry.
+
+“Not very long,” said Paul. “I only got here yesterday.”
+
+“Then you don't know anybody in the city?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Why did you come here, then?”
+
+“Because I wanted to go somewhere where I could earn a living, and I
+thought I might find something to do here.”
+
+“But suppose you shouldn't find anything to do?”
+
+“I don't know,” said Paul, slowly. “I haven't thought much about that.”
+
+“Well, my lad,” said the sexton, not unkindly, “I can't say your
+prospects look very bright. You should have good reasons for entering on
+such an undertaking. I--I don't think you are a bad boy. You don't look
+like a bad one,” he added, half to himself.
+
+“I hope not, sir,” said Paul.
+
+“I hope not, too. I was going to say that I wish I could help you to
+some kind of work. If you will come home with me, you shall be welcome
+to a dinner, and perhaps I may be able to think of something for you.”
+
+Paul gladly prepared to follow his new acquaintance.
+
+“What is your name?” inquired the sexton.
+
+“Paul Prescott.”
+
+“That sounds like a good name. I suppose you haven't got much money?”
+
+“Only twelve cents.”
+
+“Bless me! only twelve cents. Poor boy! you are indeed poor.”
+
+“But I can work,” said Paul, spiritedly. “I ought to be able to earn my
+living.”
+
+“Yes, yes, that's the way to feel. Heaven helps those who help
+themselves.”
+
+When they were fairly out of the church, Paul had an opportunity of
+observing his companion's external appearance. He was an elderly man,
+with harsh features, which would have been forbidding, but for a certain
+air of benevolence which softened their expression.
+
+As Paul walked along, he related, with less of detail, the story which
+is already known to the reader. The sexton said little except in the
+way of questions designed to elicit further particulars, till, at the
+conclusion he said, “Must tell Hester.”
+
+At length they came to a small house, in a respectable but not
+fashionable quarter of the city. One-half of this was occupied by the
+sexton. He opened the door and led the way into the sitting-room. It
+was plainly but neatly furnished, the only ornament being one or two
+engravings cheaply framed and hung over the mantel-piece. They were
+by no means gems of art, but then, the sexton did not claim to be a
+connoisseur, and would probably not have understood the meaning of the
+word.
+
+“Sit here a moment,” said the sexton, pointing to a chair, “I'll go and
+speak to Hester.”
+
+Paul whiled away the time in looking at the pictures in a copy of “The
+Pilgrim's Progress,” which lay on the table.
+
+In the next room sat a woman of perhaps fifty engaged in knitting. It
+was very easy to see that she could never have possessed the perishable
+gift of beauty. Hers was one of the faces on which nature has written
+PLAIN, in unmistakable characters. Yet if the outward features had been
+a reflex of the soul within, few faces would have been more attractive
+than that of Hester Cameron. At the feet of the sexton's wife, for such
+she was, reposed a maltese cat, purring softly by way of showing her
+contentment. Indeed, she had good reason to be satisfied. In default of
+children, puss had become a privileged pet, being well fed and carefully
+shielded from all the perils that beset cat-hood.
+
+“Home so soon?” said Hester inquiringly, as her husband opened the door.
+
+“Yes, Hester, and I have brought company with me,” said the sexton.
+
+“Company!” repeated his wife. “Who is it?”
+
+“It is a poor boy, who was accidentally locked up in the church last
+night.”
+
+“And he had to stay there all night?”
+
+“Yes; but perhaps it was lucky for him, for he had no other place to
+sleep, and not money enough to pay for one.”
+
+“Poor child!” said Hester, compassionately. “Is it not terrible to think
+that any human creature should be without the comforts of a home which
+even our tabby possesses. It ought to make you thankful that you are so
+well cared for, Tab.”
+
+The cat opened her eyes and winked drowsily at her mistress.
+
+“So you brought the poor boy home, Hugh?”
+
+“Yes, Hester,--I thought we ought not to begrudge a meal to one less
+favored by fortune than ourselves. You know we should consider ourselves
+the almoners of God's bounties.”
+
+“Surely, Hugh.”
+
+“I knew you would feel so, Hester. And suppose we have the chicken for
+dinner that I sent in the morning. I begin to have a famous appetite. I
+think I should enjoy it.”
+
+Hester knew perfectly well that it was for Paul's sake, and not for his
+own, that her husband spoke. But she so far entered into his feelings,
+that she determined to expend her utmost skill as cook upon the dinner,
+that Paul might have at least one good meal.
+
+“Now I will bring the boy in,” said he. “I am obliged to go to work, but
+you will find some way to entertain him, I dare say.”
+
+“If you will come out (this he said to Paul), I will introduce you to a
+new friend.”
+
+Paul was kindly welcomed by the sexton's wife, who questioned him in
+a sympathizing tone about his enforced stay in the church. To all her
+questions Paul answered in a modest yet manly fashion, so as to produce
+a decidedly favorable impression upon his entertainer.
+
+Our hero was a handsome boy. Just at present he was somewhat thin, not
+having entirely recovered from the effects of his sickness and poor fare
+while a member of Mr. Mudge's family; but he was well made, and bade
+fair to become a stout boy. His manner was free and unembarrassed, and
+he carried a letter of recommendation in his face. It must be admitted,
+however that there were two points in which his appearance might have
+been improved. Both his hands and face had suffered from the dust of
+travel. His clothes, too, were full of dust.
+
+A single glance told Hester all this, and she resolved to remedy it.
+
+She quietly got some water and a towel, and requested Paul to pull off
+his jacket, which she dusted while he was performing his ablutions.
+Then, with the help of a comb to arrange his disordered hair, he seemed
+quite like a new boy, and felt quite refreshed by the operation.
+
+“Really, it improves him very much,” said Hester to herself.
+
+She couldn't help recalling a boy of her own,--the only child she ever
+had,--who had been accidentally drowned when about the age of Paul.
+
+“If he had only lived,” she thought, “how different might have been our
+lives.”
+
+A thought came into her mind, and she looked earnestly at Paul.
+
+“I--yes I will speak to Hugh about it,” she said, speaking aloud,
+unconsciously.
+
+“Did you speak to me?” asked Paul.
+
+“No,--I was thinking of something.”
+
+She observed that Paul was looking rather wistfully at a loaf of bread
+on the table.
+
+“Don't you feel hungry?” she asked, kindly.
+
+“I dare say you have had no breakfast.”
+
+“I have eaten nothing since yesterday afternoon.”
+
+“Bless my soul! How hungry you must be!” said the good woman, as she
+bustled about to get a plate of butter and a knife.
+
+She must have been convinced of it by the rapid manner in which the
+slices of bread and butter disappeared.
+
+At one o'clock the sexton came home. Dinner was laid, and Paul partook
+of it with an appetite little affected by his lunch of the morning. As
+he rose from the table, he took his cap, and saying, “Good-by, I thank
+you very much for your kindness!” he was about to depart.
+
+“Where are you going?” asked the sexton, in surprise.
+
+“I don't know,” answered Paul.
+
+“Stop a minute. Hester, I want to speak to you.”
+
+They went into the sitting-room together.
+
+“This boy, Hester,” he commenced with hesitation.
+
+“Well, Hugh?”
+
+“He has no home.”
+
+“It is a hard lot.”
+
+“Do you think we should be the worse off if we offered to share our home
+with him?”
+
+“It is like your kind heart, Hugh. Let us go and tell him.”
+
+“We have been talking of you, Paul,” said the sexton. “We have thought,
+Hester and myself, that as you had no home and we no child, we should
+all be the gainers by your staying with us. Do you consent?”
+
+“Consent!” echoed Paul in joyful surprise. “How can I ever repay your
+kindness?”
+
+“If you are the boy we take you for, we shall feel abundantly repaid.
+Hester, we can give Paul the little bedroom where--where John used to
+sleep.”
+
+His voice faltered a little, for John was the name of his boy, who had
+been drowned.
+
+
+
+
+XVI.
+
+YOUNG STUPID.
+
+
+Paul found the sexton's dwelling very different from his last home, if
+the Poorhouse under the charge of Mr. and Mrs. Mudge deserved such a
+name. His present home was an humble one, but he was provided with every
+needful comfort, and the atmosphere of kindness which surrounded him,
+gave him a feeling of peace and happiness which he had not enjoyed for a
+long time.
+
+Paul supposed that he would be at once set to work, and even then would
+have accounted himself fortunate in possessing such a home.
+
+But Mr. Cameron had other views for him.
+
+“Are you fond of studying?” asked the sexton, as they were all three
+gathered in the little sitting room, an evening or two after Paul first
+came.
+
+“Very much!” replied our hero.
+
+“And would you like to go to school?”
+
+“What, here in New York?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Oh, very much indeed.”
+
+“I am glad to hear you say so, my lad. There is nothing like a good
+education. If I had a son of my own, I would rather leave him that
+than money, for while the last may be lost, the first never can be. And
+though you are not my son, Paul, Providence has in a manner conducted
+you to me, and I feel responsible for your future. So you shall go to
+school next Monday morning, and I hope you will do yourself much credit
+there.”
+
+“Thank you very much,” said Paul. “I feel very grateful, but----”
+
+“You surely are not going to object?” said the sexton.
+
+“No, but----”
+
+“Well, Paul, go on,” seeing that the boy hesitated.
+
+“Why,” said our hero, with a sense of delicacy which did him credit,
+“If I go to school, I shall not be able to earn my board, and shall be
+living at your expense, though I have no claim upon you.”
+
+“Oh, is that all?” said the sexton cheerfully, “I was afraid that it was
+something more serious. As to that, I am not rich, and never expect to
+be. But what little expense you will be will not ruin me. Besides, when
+you are grown up and doing well, you can repay me, if I ever need it.”
+
+“That I will,” said Paul.
+
+“Mind, if I ever need it,--not otherwise. There, now, it's a bargain on
+that condition. You haven't any other objection,” seeing that Paul still
+hesitated.
+
+“No, or at least I should like to ask your advice,” said Paul. “Just
+before my father died, he told me of a debt of five hundred dollars
+which he had not been able to pay. I saw that it troubled him, and I
+promised to pay it whenever I was able. I don't know but I ought to go
+to work so as to keep my promise.”
+
+“No,” said the sexton after a moment's reflection, “the best course will
+be to go to school, at present. Knowledge is power, and a good education
+will help you to make money by and by. I approve your resolution, my
+lad, and if you keep it resolutely in mind I have no doubt you will
+accomplish your object. But the quickest road to success is through the
+schoolroom. At present you are not able to earn much. Two or three years
+hence will be time enough.”
+
+Paul's face brightened as the sexton said this. He instinctively felt
+that Mr. Cameron was right. He had never forgotten his father's dying
+injunction, and this was one reason that impelled him to run away from
+the Almshouse, because he felt that while he remained he never would
+be in a situation to carry out his father's wishes. Now his duty was
+reconciled with his pleasure, and he gratefully accepted the sexton's
+suggestions.
+
+The next Monday morning, in accordance with the arrangement which had
+just been agreed upon, Paul repaired to school. He was at once placed in
+a class, and lessons were assigned him.
+
+At first his progress was not rapid. While living in Wrenville he had
+an opportunity only of attending a country school, kept less than six
+months in the year, and then not affording advantages to be compared
+with those of a city school. During his father's sickness, besides, he
+had been kept from school altogether. Of course all this lost time could
+not be made up in a moment. Therefore it was that Paul lagged behind his
+class.
+
+There are generally some in every school, who are disposed to take
+unfair advantage of their schoolmates, or to ridicule those whom they
+consider inferior to themselves.
+
+There was one such in Paul's class. His name was George Dawkins.
+
+He was rather a showy boy, and learned easily. He might have stood a
+class above where he was, if he had not been lazy, and depended too much
+on his natural talent. As it was, he maintained the foremost rank in his
+class.
+
+“Better be the first man in a village than the second man in Rome,”
+ he used to say; and as his present position not only gave him the
+pre-eminence which he desired, but cost him very little exertion to
+maintain, he was quite well satisfied with it.
+
+This boy stood first in his class, while Paul entered at the foot.
+
+He laughed unmercifully at the frequent mistakes of our hero, and
+jeeringly dubbed him, “Young Stupid.”
+
+“Do you know what Dawkins calls you?” asked one of the boys.
+
+“No. What does he call me?” asked Paul, seriously.
+
+“He calls you 'Young Stupid.'”
+
+Paul's face flushed painfully. Ridicule was as painful to him as it is
+to most boys, and he felt the insult deeply.
+
+“I'd fight him if I were you,” was the volunteered advice of his
+informant.
+
+“No,” said Paul. “That wouldn't mend the matter. Besides, I don't know
+but he has some reason for thinking so.”
+
+“Don't call yourself stupid, do you?”
+
+“No, but I am not as far advanced as most boys of my age. That isn't my
+fault, though. I never had a chance to go to school much. If I had been
+to school all my life, as Dawkins has, it would be time to find out
+whether I am stupid or not.”
+
+“Then you ain't going to do anything about it?”
+
+“Yes, I am.”
+
+“You said you wasn't going to fight him.”
+
+“That wouldn't do any good. But I'm going to study up and see if I can't
+get ahead of him. Don't you think that will be the best way of showing
+him that he is mistaken?”
+
+“Yes, capital, but----”
+
+“But you think I can't do it, I suppose,” said Paul.
+
+“You know he is at the head of the class, and you are at the foot.”
+
+“I know that,” said Paul, resolutely. “But wait awhile and see.”
+
+In some way George Dawkins learned that Paul had expressed the
+determination to dispute his place. It occasioned him considerable
+amusement.
+
+“Halloa, Young Stupid,” he called out, at recess.
+
+Paul did not answer.
+
+“Why don't you answer when you are spoken to?” he asked angrily.
+
+“When you call me by my right name,” said Paul, quietly, “I will answer,
+and not before.”
+
+“You're mighty independent,” sneered Dawkins. “I don't know but I may
+have to teach you manners.”
+
+“You had better wait till you are qualified,” said Paul, coolly.
+
+Dawkins approached our hero menacingly, but Paul did not look in the
+least alarmed, and he concluded to attack him with words only.
+
+“I understand you have set yourself up as my rival!” he said, mockingly.
+
+“Not just yet,” said Paul, “but in time I expect to be.”
+
+“So you expect my place,” said Dawkins, glancing about him.
+
+“We'll talk about that three months hence,” said Paul.
+
+“Don't hurt yourself studying,” sneered Dawkins, scornfully.
+
+To this Paul did not deign a reply, but the same day he rose one in his
+class.
+
+Our hero had a large stock of energy and determination. When he had once
+set his mind upon a thing, he kept steadily at work till he accomplished
+it. This is the great secret of success. It sometimes happens that a man
+who has done nothing will at once accomplish a brilliant success by one
+spasmodic effort, but such cases are extremely rare.
+
+“Slow and sure wins the race,” is an old proverb that has a great deal
+of truth in it.
+
+Paul worked industriously.
+
+The kind sexton and his wife, who noticed his assiduity, strove to
+dissuade him from working so steadily.
+
+“You are working too hard, Paul,” they said.
+
+“Do I look pale?” asked Paul, pointing with a smile to his red cheeks.
+
+“No, but you will before long.”
+
+“When I am, I will study less. But you know, Uncle Hugh,” so the sexton
+instructed him to call him, “I want to make the most of my present
+advantages. Besides, there's a particular boy who thinks I am stupid. I
+want to convince him that he is mistaken.”
+
+“You are a little ambitious, then, Paul?”
+
+“Yes, but it isn't that alone. I know the value of knowledge, and I want
+to secure as much as I can.”
+
+“That is an excellent motive, Paul.”
+
+“Then you won't make me study less?”
+
+“Not unless I see you are getting sick.”
+
+Paul took good care of this. He knew how to play as well as to study,
+and his laugh on the playground was as merry as any. His cheerful,
+obliging disposition made him a favorite with his companions. Only
+George Dawkins held out; he had, for some reason, imbibed a dislike for
+Paul.
+
+Paul's industry was not without effect. He gradually gained position in
+his class.
+
+“Take care, Dawkins,” said one of his companions--the same one who had
+before spoken to Paul--“Paul Prescott will be disputing your place with
+you. He has come up seventeen places in a month.”
+
+“Much good it'll do him,” said Dawkins, contemptuously.
+
+“For all that, you will have to be careful; I can tell you that.”
+
+“I'm not in the least afraid. I'm a little too firm in my position to be
+ousted by Young Stupid.”
+
+“Just wait and see.”
+
+Dawkins really entertained no apprehension. He had unbounded confidence
+in himself, and felt a sense of power in the rapidity with which he
+could master a lesson. He therefore did not study much, and though he
+could not but see that Paul was rapidly advancing, he rejected with
+scorn the idea that Young Stupid could displace him.
+
+This, however, was the object at which Paul was aiming. He had not
+forgotten the nickname which Dawkins had given him, and this was the
+revenge which he sought,--a strictly honorable one.
+
+At length the day of his triumph came. At the end of the month the
+master read off the class-list, and, much to his disgust, George Dawkins
+found himself playing second fiddle to Young Stupid.
+
+
+
+
+XVII.
+
+BEN'S PRACTICAL JOKE.
+
+
+Mrs. Mudge was in the back room, bending over a tub. It was washing-day,
+and she was particularly busy. She was a driving, bustling woman, and,
+whatever might be her faults of temper, she was at least industrious and
+energetic. Had Mr. Mudge been equally so, they would have been better
+off in a worldly point of view. But her husband was constitutionally
+lazy, and was never disposed to do more than was needful.
+
+Mrs. Mudge was in a bad humor that morning. One of the cows had got
+into the garden through a gap in the fence, and made sad havoc among the
+cabbages. Now if Mrs. Mudge had a weakness, it was for cabbages. She
+was excessively fond of them, and had persuaded her husband to set out
+a large number of plants from which she expected a large crop. They were
+planted in one corner of the garden, adjoining a piece of land, which,
+since mowing, had been used for pasturing the cows. There was a weak
+place in the fence separating the two inclosures, and this Mrs. Mudge
+had requested her husband to attend to. He readily promised this, and
+Mrs. Mudge supposed it done, until that same morning, her sharp eyes had
+detected old Brindle munching the treasured cabbages with a provoking
+air of enjoyment. The angry lady seized a broom, and repaired quickly to
+the scene of devastation. Brindle scented the danger from afar, and beat
+a disorderly retreat, trampling down the cabbages which she had hitherto
+spared. Leaping over the broken fence, she had just cleared the gap as
+the broom-handle, missing her, came forcibly down upon the rail, and was
+snapped in sunder by the blow.
+
+Here was a new vexation. Brindle had not only escaped scot-free, but the
+broom, a new one, bought only the week before, was broken.
+
+“It's a plaguy shame,” said Mrs. Mudge, angrily. “There's my best broom
+broken; cost forty-two cents only last week.”
+
+She turned and contemplated the scene of devastation. This yielded her
+little consolation.
+
+“At least thirty cabbages destroyed by that scamp of a cow,” she
+exclaimed in a tone bordering on despair. “I wish I'd a hit her. If I'd
+broken my broom over her back I wouldn't a cared so much. And it's all
+Mudge's fault. He's the most shiftless man I ever see. I'll give him a
+dressing down, see if I don't.”
+
+Mrs. Mudge's eyes snapped viciously, and she clutched the relics of the
+broom with a degree of energy which rendered it uncertain what sort of a
+dressing down she intended for her husband.
+
+Ten minutes after she had re-entered the kitchen, the luckless man made
+his appearance. He wore his usual look, little dreaming of the storm
+that awaited him.
+
+“I'm glad you've come,” said Mrs. Mudge, grimly.
+
+“What's amiss, now?” inquired Mudge, for he understood her look.
+
+“What's amiss?” blazed Mrs. Mudge. “I'll let you know. Do you see this?”
+
+She seized the broken broom and flourished it in his face.
+
+“Broken your broom, have you? You must have been careless.”
+
+“Careless, was I?” demanded Mrs. Mudge, sarcastically. “Yes, of course,
+it's always I that am in fault.”
+
+“You haven't broken it over the back of any of the paupers, have you?”
+ asked her husband, who, knowing his helpmeet's infirmity of temper,
+thought it possible she might have indulged in such an amusement.
+
+“If I had broken it over anybody's back it would have been yours,” said
+the lady.
+
+“Mine! what have I been doing?”
+
+“It's what you haven't done,” said Mrs. Mudge. “You're about the laziest
+and most shiftless man I ever came across.”
+
+“Come, what does all this mean?” demanded Mr. Mudge, who was getting a
+little angry in his turn.
+
+“I'll let you know. Just look out of that window, will you?”
+
+“Well,” said Mr. Mudge, innocently, “I don't see anything in
+particular.”
+
+“You don't!” said Mrs. Mudge with withering sarcasm. “Then you'd better
+put on your glasses. If you'd been here quarter of an hour ago, you'd
+have seen Brindle among the cabbages.”
+
+“Did she do any harm?” asked Mr. Mudge, hastily.
+
+“There's scarcely a cabbage left,” returned Mrs. Mudge, purposely
+exaggerating the mischief done.
+
+“If you had mended that fence, as I told you to do, time and again, it
+wouldn't have happened.”
+
+“You didn't tell me but once,” said Mr. Mudge, trying to get up a feeble
+defence.
+
+“Once should have been enough, and more than enough. You expect me to
+slave myself to death in the house, and see to all your work besides.
+If I'd known what a lazy, shiftless man you were, at the time I married
+you, I'd have cut off my right hand first.”
+
+By this time Mr. Mudge had become angry.
+
+“If you hadn't married me, you'd a died an old maid,” he retorted.
+
+This was too much for Mrs. Mudge to bear. She snatched the larger half
+of the broom, and fetched it down with considerable emphasis upon
+the back of her liege lord, who, perceiving that her temper was up,
+retreated hastily from the kitchen; as he got into the yard he
+descried Brindle, whose appetite had been whetted by her previous raid,
+re-entering the garden through the gap.
+
+It was an unfortunate attempt on the part of Brindle. Mr. Mudge,
+angry with his wife, and smarting with the blow from the broomstick,
+determined to avenge himself upon the original cause of all the trouble.
+Revenge suggested craft. He seized a hoe, and crept stealthily to the
+cabbage-plot. Brindle, whose back was turned, did not perceive his
+approach, until she felt a shower of blows upon her back. Confused at
+the unexpected attack she darted wildly away, forgetting the gap in the
+fence, and raced at random over beds of vegetables, uprooting beets,
+parsnips, and turnips, while Mr. Mudge, mad with rage, followed close in
+her tracks, hitting her with the hoe whenever he got a chance.
+
+Brindle galloped through the yard, and out at the open gate. Thence she
+ran up the road at the top of her speed, with Mr. Mudge still pursuing
+her.
+
+It may be mentioned here that Mr. Mudge was compelled to chase the
+terrified cow over two miles before he succeeded with the help of a
+neighbor in capturing her. All this took time. Meanwhile Mrs. Mudge at
+home was subjected to yet another trial of her temper.
+
+It has already been mentioned that Squire Newcome was Chairman of the
+Overseers of the Poor. In virtue of his office, he was expected to
+exercise a general supervision over the Almshouse and its management.
+It was his custom to call about once a month to look after matters, and
+ascertain whether any official action or interference was needed.
+
+Ben saw his father take his gold-headed cane from behind the door, and
+start down the road. He understood his destination, and instantly the
+plan of a stupendous practical joke dawned upon him.
+
+“It'll be jolly fun,” he said to himself, his eyes dancing with fun.
+“I'll try it, anyway.”
+
+He took his way across the fields, so as to reach the Almshouse before
+his father. He then commenced his plan of operations.
+
+Mrs. Mudge had returned to her tub, and was washing away with bitter
+energy, thinking over her grievances in the matter of Mr. Mudge, when a
+knock was heard at the front door.
+
+Taking her hands from the tub, she wiped them on her apron.
+
+“I wish folks wouldn't come on washing day!” she said in a tone of
+vexation.
+
+She went to the door and opened it.
+
+There was nobody there.
+
+“I thought somebody knocked,” thought she, a little mystified. “Perhaps
+I was mistaken.”
+
+She went back to her tub, and had no sooner got her hands in the suds
+than another knock was heard, this time on the back door.
+
+“I declare!” said she, in increased vexation, “There's another knock. I
+shan't get through my washing to-day.”
+
+Again Mrs. Mudge wiped her hands on her apron, and went to the door.
+
+There was nobody there.
+
+I need hardly say that it was Ben, who had knocked both times, and
+instantly dodged round the corner of the house.
+
+“It's some plaguy boy,” said Mrs. Mudge, her eyes blazing with anger.
+“Oh, if I could only get hold of him!”
+
+“Don't you wish you could?” chuckled Ben to himself, as he caught a sly
+glimpse of the indignant woman.
+
+Meanwhile, Squire Newcome had walked along in his usual slow and
+dignified manner, until he had reached the front door of the Poorhouse,
+and knocked.
+
+“It's that plaguy boy again,” said Mrs. Mudge, furiously. “I won't go
+this time, but if he knocks again, I'll fix him.”
+
+She took a dipper of hot suds from the tub in which she had been
+washing, and crept carefully into the entry, taking up a station close
+to the front door.
+
+“I wonder if Mrs. Mudge heard me knock,” thought Squire Newcome. “I
+should think she might. I believe I will knock again.”
+
+This time he knocked with his cane.
+
+Rat-tat-tat sounded on the door.
+
+The echo had not died away, when the door was pulled suddenly open, and
+a dipper full of hot suds was dashed into the face of the astonished
+Squire, accompanied with, “Take that, you young scamp!”
+
+“Wh--what does all this mean?” gasped Squire Newcome, nearly strangled
+with the suds, a part of which had found its way into his mouth.
+
+“I beg your pardon, Squire Newcome,” said the horrified Mrs. Mudge. “I
+didn't mean it.”
+
+“What did you mean, then?” demanded Squire Newcome, sternly. “I think
+you addressed me,--ahem!--as a scamp.”
+
+“Oh, I didn't mean you,” said Mrs. Mudge, almost out of her wits with
+perplexity.
+
+“Come in, sir, and let me give you a towel. You've no idea how I've been
+tried this morning.”
+
+“I trust,” said the Squire, in his stateliest tone, “you will be able
+to give a satisfactory explanation of this, ahem--extraordinary
+proceeding.”
+
+While Mrs. Mudge was endeavoring to sooth the ruffled dignity of the
+aggrieved Squire, the “young scamp,” who had caused all the mischief,
+made his escape through the fields.
+
+“Oh, wasn't it bully!” he exclaimed. “I believe I shall die of laughing.
+I wish Paul had been here to see it. Mrs. Mudge has got herself into a
+scrape, now, I'm thinking.”
+
+Having attained a safe distance from the Poorhouse, Ben doubled himself
+up and rolled over and over upon the grass, convulsed with laughter.
+
+“I'd give five dollars to see it all over again,” he said to himself. “I
+never had such splendid fun in my life.”
+
+Presently the Squire emerged, his tall dicky looking decidedly limp and
+drooping, his face expressing annoyance and outraged dignity. Mrs. Mudge
+attended him to the door with an expression of anxious concern.
+
+“I guess I'd better make tracks,” said Ben to himself, “it won't do for
+the old gentleman to see me here, or he may smell a rat.”
+
+He accordingly scrambled over a stone wall and lay quietly hidden behind
+it till he judged it would be safe to make his appearance.
+
+
+
+
+
+XVIII.
+
+MORE ABOUT BEN.
+
+
+“Benjamin,” said Squire Newcome, two days after the occurrence mentioned
+in the last chapter, “what made the dog howl so this morning? Was you a
+doing anything to him?”
+
+“I gave him his breakfast,” said Ben, innocently. “Perhaps he was
+hungry, and howling for that.”
+
+“I do not refer to that,” said the Squire. “He howled as if in pain or
+terror. I repeat; was you a doing anything to him?”
+
+Ben shifted from one foot to the other, and looked out of the window.
+
+“I desire a categorical answer,” said Squire Newcome.
+
+“Don't know what categorical means,” said Ben, assuming a perplexed
+look.
+
+“I desire you to answer me IMMEGIATELY,” explained the Squire. “What was
+you a doing to Watch?”
+
+“I was tying a tin-kettle to his tail,” said Ben, a little reluctantly.
+
+“And what was you a doing that for?” pursued the Squire.
+
+“I wanted to see how he would look,” said Ben, glancing demurely at his
+father, out of the corner of his eye.
+
+“Did it ever occur to you that it must be disagreeable to Watch to have
+such an appendage to his tail?” queried the Squire.
+
+“I don't know,” said Ben.
+
+“How should you like to have a tin pail suspended to your--ahem! your
+coat tail?”
+
+“I haven't got any coat tail,” said Ben, “I wear jackets. But I think I
+am old enough to wear coats. Can't I have one made, father?”
+
+“Ahem!” said the Squire, blowing his nose, “we will speak of that at
+some future period.”
+
+“Fred Newell wears a coat, and he isn't any older than I am,” persisted
+Ben, who was desirous of interrupting his father's inquiries.
+
+“I apprehend that we are wandering from the question,” said the Squire.
+“Would you like to be treated as you treated Watch?”
+
+“No,” said Ben, slowly, “I don't know as I should.”
+
+“Then take care not to repeat your conduct of this morning,” said his
+father. “Stay a moment,” as Ben was about to leave the room hastily. “I
+desire that you should go to the post-office and inquire for letters.”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+Ben left the room and sauntered out in the direction of the post-office.
+
+A chaise, driven by a stranger, stopped as it came up with him.
+
+The driver looked towards Ben, and inquired, “Boy, is this the way to
+Sparta?”
+
+Ben, who was walking leisurely along the path, whistling as he went,
+never turned his head.
+
+“Are you deaf, boy?” said the driver, impatiently. “I want to know if
+this is the road to Sparta?”
+
+Ben turned round.
+
+“Fine morning, sir,” he said politely.
+
+“I know that well enough without your telling me. Will you tell me
+whether this is the road to Sparta?”
+
+Ben put his hand to his ear, and seemed to listen attentively. Then he
+slowly shook his head, and said, “Would you be kind enough to speak a
+little louder, sir?”
+
+“The boy is deaf, after all,” said the driver to himself. “IS THIS THE
+ROAD TO SPARTA?”
+
+“Yes, sir, this is Wrenville,” said Ben, politely.
+
+“Plague take it! he don't hear me yet. IS THIS THE ROAD TO SPARTA?”
+
+“Just a little louder, if you please,” said Ben, keeping his hand to his
+ear, and appearing anxious to hear.
+
+“Deaf as a post!” muttered the driver. “I couldn't scream any louder, if
+I should try. Go along.”
+
+“Poor man! I hope he hasn't injured his voice,” thought Ben, his eyes
+dancing with fun. “By gracious!” he continued a moment later, bursting
+into a laugh, “if he isn't going to ask the way of old Tom Haven. He's
+as deaf as I pretended to be.”
+
+The driver had reined up again, and inquired the way to Sparta.
+
+“What did you say?” said the old man, putting his hand to his ear. “I'm
+rather hard of hearing.”
+
+The traveller repeated his question in a louder voice.
+
+The old man shook his head.
+
+“I guess you'd better ask that boy,” he said, pointing to Ben, who by
+this time had nearly come up with the chaise.
+
+“I have had enough of him,” said the traveller, disgusted. “I believe
+you're all deaf in this town. I'll get out of it as soon as possible.”
+
+He whipped up his horse, somewhat to the old man's surprise, and drove
+rapidly away.
+
+I desire my young readers to understand that I am describing Ben as he
+was, and not as he ought to be. There is no doubt that he carried his
+love of fun too far. We will hope that as he grows older, he will grow
+wiser.
+
+Ben pursued the remainder of his way to the Post-office without any
+further adventure.
+
+Entering a small building appropriated to this purpose, he inquired for
+letters.
+
+“There's nothing for your father to-day,” said the post-master.
+
+“Perhaps there's something for me,--Benjamin Newcome, Esq.,” said Ben.
+
+“Let me see,” said the post-master, putting on his spectacles; “yes, I
+believe there is. Post-marked at New York, too. I didn't know you had
+any correspondents there.”
+
+“It's probably from the Mayor of New York,” said Ben, in a tone of
+comical importance, “asking my advice about laying out Central Park.”
+
+“Probably it is,” said the postmaster. “It's a pretty thick
+letter,--looks like an official document.”
+
+By this time, Ben, who was really surprised by the reception of the
+letter, had opened it. It proved to be from our hero, Paul Prescott, and
+inclosed one for Aunt Lucy.
+
+“Mr. Crosby,” said Ben, suddenly, addressing the postmaster, “you
+remember about Paul Prescott's running away from the Poorhouse?”
+
+“Yes, I didn't blame the poor boy a bit. I never liked Mudge, and they
+say his wife is worse than he.”
+
+“Well, suppose the town should find out where he is, could they get him
+back again?”
+
+“Bless you! no. They ain't so fond of supporting paupers. If he's able
+to earn his own living, they won't want to interfere with him.”
+
+“Well, this letter is from him,” said Ben. “He's found a pleasant family
+in New York, who have adopted him.”
+
+“I'm glad of it,” said Mr. Crosby, heartily. “I always liked him. He was
+a fine fellow.”
+
+“That's just what I think. I'll read his letter to you, if you would
+like to hear it.”
+
+“I should, very much. Come in behind here, and sit down.”
+
+Ben went inside the office, and sitting down on a stool, read Paul's
+letter. As our reader may be interested in the contents, we will take
+the liberty of looking over Ben's shoulder while he reads.
+
+New York, Oct. 10, 18--.
+
+DEAR BEN:--
+
+I have been intending to write to you before, knowing the kind interest
+which you take in me. I got safely to New York a few days after I left
+Wrenville. I didn't have so hard a time as I expected, having fallen in
+with a pedler, who was very kind to me, with whom I rode thirty or forty
+miles. I wish I had time to tell all the adventures I met with on the
+way, but I must wait till I see you.
+
+When I got to the city, I was astonished to find how large it was. The
+first day I got pretty tired wandering about, and strayed into a church
+in the evening, not knowing where else to go. I was so tired I fell
+asleep there, and didn't wake up till morning. When I found myself
+locked up in a great church, I was frightened, I can tell you. It was
+only Thursday morning, and I was afraid I should have to stay there
+till Sunday. If I had, I am afraid I should have starved to death. But,
+fortunately for me, the sexton came in the morning, and let me out. That
+wasn't all. He very kindly took me home with him, and then told me I
+might live with him and go to school. I like him very much, and his wife
+too. I call them Uncle Hugh and Aunt Hester. When you write to me, you
+must direct to the care of Mr. Hugh Cameron, 10 R---- Street. Then it
+will be sure to reach me.
+
+I am going to one of the city schools. At first, I was a good deal
+troubled because I was so far behind boys of my age. You know I hadn't
+been to school for a long time before I left Wrenville, on account of
+father's sickness. But I studied pretty hard, and now I stand very well.
+I sometimes think, Ben, that you don't care quite so much about study
+as you ought to. I wish you would come to feel the importance of it. You
+must excuse me saying this, as we have always been such good friends.
+
+I sometimes think of Mr. and Mrs. Mudge, and wonder whether they miss
+me much. I am sure Mr. Mudge misses me, for now he is obliged to get up
+early and milk, unless he has found another boy to do it. If he has, I
+pity the boy. Write me what they said about my going away.
+
+I inclose a letter for Aunt Lucy Lee, which I should like to have you
+give her with your own hands. Don't trust it to Mrs. Mudge, for she
+doesn't like Aunt Lucy, and I don't think she would give it to her.
+
+Write soon, Ben, and I will answer without delay, Your affectionate
+friend, PAUL PRESCOTT.
+
+
+“That's a very good letter,” said Mr. Crosby; “I am glad Paul is doing
+so well. I should like to see him.”
+
+“So should I,” said Ben; “he was a prime fellow,--twice as good as I am.
+That's true, what he said about my not liking study. I guess I'll try to
+do better.”
+
+“You'll make a smart boy if you only try,” said the postmaster,
+with whom Ben was rather a favorite, in spite of his mischievous
+propensities.
+
+“Thank you,” said Ben, laughing, “that's what my friend, the mayor of
+New York, often writes me. But honestly, I know I can do a good deal
+better than I am doing now. I don't know but I shall turn over a new
+leaf. I suppose I like fun a little too well. Such jolly sport as I had
+coming to the office this morning.”
+
+Ben related the story of the traveller who inquired the way to Sparta,
+much to the amusement of the postmaster, who, in his enjoyment of the
+joke, forgot to tell Ben that his conduct was hardly justifiable.
+
+“Now,” said Ben, “as soon as I have been home, I must go and see my
+particular friend, Mrs. Mudge. I'm a great favorite of hers,” he added,
+with a sly wink.
+
+
+
+
+XIX.
+
+MRS. MUDGE'S DISCOMFITURE.
+
+
+Ben knocked at the door of the Poorhouse. In due time Mrs. Mudge
+appeared. She was a little alarmed on seeing Ben, not knowing how Squire
+Newcome might be affected by the reception she had given him on his last
+visit. Accordingly she received him with unusual politeness.
+
+“How do you do, Master Newcome?” she inquired.
+
+“As well as could be expected,” said Ben, hesitatingly.
+
+“Why, is there anything the matter with you?” inquired Mrs. Mudge, her
+curiosity excited by his manner of speaking.
+
+“No one can tell what I suffer from rheumatism,” said Ben, sadly.
+
+This was very true, since not even Ben himself could have told.
+
+“You are very young to be troubled in that way,” said Mrs. Mudge, “and
+how is your respected father, to-day?” she inquired, with some anxiety.
+
+“I was just going to ask you, Mrs. Mudge,” said Ben, “whether anything
+happened to disturb him when he called here day before yesterday?”
+
+“Why,” said Mrs. Mudge, turning a little pale, “Nothing of any
+consequence,--that is, not much. What makes you ask?”
+
+“I thought it might be so from his manner,” said Ben, enjoying Mrs.
+Mudge's evident alarm.
+
+“There was a little accident,” said Mrs. Mudge, reluctantly. “Some
+mischievous boy had been knocking and running away; so, when your father
+knocked, I thought it might be he, and--and I believe I threw some
+water on him. But I hope he has forgiven it, as it wasn't intentional.
+I should like to get hold of that boy,” said Mrs. Mudge, wrathfully, “I
+should like to shake him up.”
+
+“Have you any idea who it was?” asked Ben, gravely.
+
+“No,” said Mrs. Mudge, “I haven't, but I shall try to find out. Whoever
+it is, he's a scamp.”
+
+“Very complimentary old lady,” thought Ben. He said in a sober
+tone, which would have imposed upon any one, “There are a good many
+mischievous boys around here.”
+
+Mrs. Mudge grimly assented.
+
+“Oh, by the way, Mrs. Mudge,” asked Ben, suddenly, “have you ever heard
+anything of Paul Prescott since he left you?”
+
+“No,” snapped Mrs. Mudge, her countenance growing dark, “I haven't. But
+I can tell pretty well where he is.”
+
+“Where?”
+
+“In the penitentiary. At any rate, if he isn't, he ought to be. But what
+was you wanting?”
+
+“I want to see Mrs. Lee.”
+
+“Aunt Lucy Lee?”
+
+“Yes. I've got a letter for her.”
+
+“If you'll give me the letter I'll carry it to her.”
+
+“Thank you,” said Ben, “but I would like to see her.”
+
+“Never mind,” thought Mrs. Mudge, “I'll get hold of it yet. I shouldn't
+wonder at all if it was from that rascal, Paul.”
+
+Poor Paul! It was fortunate that he had some better friends than Mr. and
+Mrs. Mudge, otherwise he would have been pretty poorly off.
+
+Aunt Lucy came to the door. Ben placed the letter in her hands.
+
+“Is it from Paul?” she asked, hopefully.
+
+“Yes,” said Ben.
+
+She opened it eagerly. “Is he well?” she asked.
+
+“Yes, well and happy,” said Ben, who treated the old lady, for whom he
+had much respect, very differently from Mrs. Mudge.
+
+“I'm truly thankful for that,” said Aunt Lucy; “I've laid awake more
+than one night thinking of him.”
+
+“So has Mrs. Mudge, I'm thinking,” said Ben, slyly.
+
+Aunt Lucy laughed.
+
+“There isn't much love lost between them,” said Aunt Lucy, smiling. “He
+was very badly treated here, poor boy.”
+
+“Was he, though?” repeated Mrs. Mudge? who had been listening at the
+keyhole, but not in an audible voice. “Perhaps he will be again, if I
+get him back. I thought that letter was from Paul. I must get hold of it
+some time to-day.”
+
+“I believe I must go,” said Ben. “If you answer the letter, I will put
+it into the office for you. I shall be passing here to-morrow.”
+
+“You are very kind,” said Aunt Lucy. “I am very much obliged to you for
+bringing me this letter to-day. You can't tell how happy it makes me. I
+have been so afraid the dear boy might be suffering.”
+
+“It's no trouble at all,” said Ben.
+
+“She's a pretty good woman,” thought he, as he left the house. “I
+wouldn't play a trick on her for a good deal. But that Mrs. Mudge is a
+hard case. I wonder what she would have said if she had known that I was
+the 'scamp' that troubled her so much Monday. If I had such a mother as
+that, by jingo, I'd run away to sea.”
+
+Mrs. Mudge was bent upon reading Aunt Lucy's letter. Knowing it to be
+from Paul, she had a strong curiosity to know what had become of him.
+If she could only get him back! Her heart bounded with delight as she
+thought of the annoyances to which, in that case, she could subject him.
+It would be a double triumph over him and Aunt Lucy, against whom she
+felt that mean spite with which a superior nature is often regarded by
+one of a lower order.
+
+After some reflection, Mrs. Mudge concluded that Aunt Lucy would
+probably leave the letter in the little chest which was appropriated to
+her use, and which was kept in the room where she slept. The key of this
+chest had been lost, and although Aunt Lucy had repeatedly requested
+that a new one should be obtained, Mrs. Mudge had seen fit to pay no
+attention to her request, as it would interfere with purposes of her
+own, the character of which may easily be guessed.
+
+As she suspected, Paul's letter had been deposited in this chest.
+
+Accordingly, the same afternoon, she left her work in the kitchen in
+order to institute a search for it. As a prudent precaution, however,
+she just opened the door of the common room, to make sure that Aunt Lucy
+was at work therein.
+
+She made her way upstairs, and entering the room in which the old lady
+lodged, together with two others, she at once went to the chest and
+opened it.
+
+She began to rummage round among the old lady's scanty treasures, and at
+length, much to her joy, happened upon the letter, laid carefully away
+in one corner of the chest. She knew it was the one she sought, from the
+recent postmark, and the address, which was in the unformed handwriting
+of a boy. To make absolutely certain, she drew the letter from the
+envelope and looked at the signature.
+
+She was right, as she saw at a glance. It was from Paul.
+
+“Now I'll see what the little rascal has to say for himself,” she
+muttered, “I hope he's in distress; oh, how I'd like to get hold of
+him.”
+
+Mrs. Mudge began eagerly to read the letter, not dreaming of
+interruption. But she was destined to be disappointed. To account for
+this we must explain that, shortly after Mrs. Mudge looked into the
+common room, Aunt Lucy was reminded of something essential, which she
+had left upstairs. She accordingly laid down her work upon the chair in
+which she had been sitting, and went up to her chamber.
+
+Mrs. Mudge was too much preoccupied to hear the advancing steps.
+
+As the old lady entered the chamber, what was her mingled indignation
+and dismay at seeing Mrs. Mudge on her knees before _her_ chest, with
+the precious letter, whose arrival had gladdened her so much, in her
+hands.
+
+“What are you doing there, Mrs. Mudge?” she said, sternly.
+
+Mrs. Mudge rose from her knees in confusion. Even she had the grace to
+be ashamed of her conduct.
+
+“Put down that letter,” said the old lady in an authoritative voice
+quite new to her.
+
+Mrs. Mudge, who had not yet collected her scattered senses, did as she
+was requested.
+
+Aunt Lucy walked hastily to the chest, and closed it, first securing the
+letter, which she put in her pocket.
+
+“I hope it will be safe, now,” she said, rather contemptuously. “Ain't
+you ashamed of yourself, Mrs. Mudge?”
+
+“Ashamed of myself!” shrieked that amiable lady, indignant with herself
+for having quailed for a moment before the old lady.
+
+“What do you mean--you--you pauper?”
+
+“I may be a pauper,” said Aunt Lucy, calmly, “But I am thankful to
+say that I mind my own business, and don't meddle with other people's
+chests.”
+
+A red spot glowed on either cheek of Mrs. Mudge. She was trying hard to
+find some vantage-ground over the old lady.
+
+“Do you mean to say that I don't mind my business?” she blustered,
+folding her arms defiantly.
+
+“What were you at my trunk for?” said the old lady, significantly.
+
+“Because it was my duty,” was the brazen reply.
+
+Mrs. Mudge had rapidly determined upon her line of defense, and thought
+it best to carry the war into the enemy's country.
+
+“Yes, I felt sure that your letter was from Paul Prescott, and as he ran
+away from my husband and me, who were his lawful guardians, it was my
+duty to take that means of finding out where he is. I knew that you were
+in league with him, and would do all you could to screen him. This is
+why I went to your chest, and I would do it again, if necessary.”
+
+“Perhaps you have been before,” said Aunt Lucy, scornfully. “I think
+I understand, now, why you were unwilling to give me another key.
+Fortunately there has been nothing there until now to reward your
+search.”
+
+“You impudent trollop!” shrieked Mrs. Mudge, furiously.
+
+Her anger was the greater, because Aunt Lucy was entirely correct in her
+supposition that this was not the first visit her landlady had made to
+the little green chest.
+
+“I'll give Paul the worst whipping he ever had, when I get him back,”
+ said Mrs. Mudge, angrily.
+
+“He is beyond your reach, thank Providence,” said Aunt Lucy, whose
+equanimity was not disturbed by this menace, which she knew to be an
+idle one. “That is enough for you to know. I will take care that you
+never have another chance to see this letter. And if you ever go to my
+chest again”--
+
+“Well, ma'am, what then?”
+
+“I shall appeal for protection to 'Squire Newcome.”
+
+“Hoity, toity,” said Mrs. Mudge, but she was a little alarmed,
+nevertheless, as such an appeal would probably be prejudicial to her
+interest.
+
+So from time to time Aunt Lucy received, through Ben, letters from Paul,
+which kept her acquainted with his progress at school. These letters
+were very precious to the old lady, and she read them over many times.
+They formed a bright link of interest which bound her to the outside
+world, and enabled her to bear up with greater cheerfulness against the
+tyranny of Mrs. Mudge.
+
+
+
+
+XX.
+
+PAUL OBTAINS A SITUATION.
+
+
+The month after Paul Prescott succeeded in reaching the head of his
+class, George Dawkins exerted himself to rise above him. He studied
+better than usual, and proved in truth a formidable rival. But Paul's
+spirit was roused. He resolved to maintain his position if possible. He
+had now become accustomed to study, and it cost him less effort. When
+the end of the month came, there was considerable speculation in the
+minds of the boys as to the result of the rivalry. The majority had
+faith in Paul, but there were some who, remembering how long Dawkins had
+been at the head of the class, thought he would easily regain his lost
+rank.
+
+The eventful day, the first of the month, at length came, and the
+class-list was read.
+
+Paul Prescott ranked first.
+
+George Dawkins ranked second.
+
+A flush spread over the pale face of Dawkins, and he darted a malignant
+glance at Paul, who was naturally pleased at having retained his rank.
+
+Dawkins had his satellites. One of these came to him at recess, and
+expressed his regret that Dawkins had failed of success.
+
+Dawkins repelled the sympathy with cold disdain.
+
+“What do you suppose I care for the head of the class?” he demanded,
+haughtily.
+
+“I thought you had been studying for it.”
+
+“Then you thought wrong. Let the sexton's son have it, if he wants it.
+It would be of no use to me, as I leave this school at the end of the
+week.”
+
+“Leave school!”
+
+The boys gathered about Dawkins, curiously.
+
+“Is it really so, Dawkins?” they inquired.
+
+“Yes,” said Dawkins, with an air of importance; “I shall go to a private
+school, where the advantages are greater than here. My father does not
+wish me to attend a public school any longer.”
+
+This statement was made on the spur of the moment, to cover the
+mortification which his defeat had occasioned him. It proved true,
+however. On his return home, Dawkins succeeded in persuading his father
+to transfer him to a private school, and he took away his books at the
+end of the week. Had he recovered his lost rank there is no doubt that
+he would have remained.
+
+Truth to tell, there were few who mourned much for the departure of
+George Dawkins. He had never been a favorite. His imperious temper and
+arrogance rendered this impossible.
+
+After he left school, Paul saw little of him for two or three years.
+At their first encounter Paul bowed and spoke pleasantly, but Dawkins
+looked superciliously at him without appearing to know him.
+
+Paul's face flushed proudly, and afterwards he abstained from making
+advances which were likely to be repulsed. He had too much self-respect
+to submit voluntarily to such slights.
+
+Meanwhile Paul's school life fled rapidly. It was a happy time,--happy
+in its freedom from care, and happy for him, though all school boys do
+not appreciate that consideration, in the opportunities for improvement
+which it afforded. These opportunities, it is only just to Paul to say,
+were fully improved. He left school with an enviable reputation, and
+with the good wishes of his schoolmates and teachers.
+
+Paul was now sixteen years old, a stout, handsome boy, with a frank,
+open countenance, and a general air of health which formed quite a
+contrast to the appearance he presented when he left the hospitable
+mansion which Mr. Nicholas Mudge kept open at the public expense.
+
+Paul was now very desirous of procuring a situation. He felt that it was
+time he was doing something for himself. He was ambitious to relieve the
+kind sexton and his wife of some portion, at least, of the burden of his
+support.
+
+Besides, there was the legacy of debt which his father had bequeathed
+him. Never for a moment had Paul forgotten it. Never for a moment had he
+faltered in his determination to liquidate it at whatever sacrifice to
+himself.
+
+“My father's name shall be cleared,” he said to himself, proudly.
+“Neither Squire Conant nor any one else shall have it in his power to
+cast reproach upon his memory.”
+
+The sexton applauded his purpose.
+
+“You are quite right, Paul,” he said. “But you need not feel in haste.
+Obtain your education first, and the money will come by-and-by. As long
+as you repay the amount, principal and interest, you will have done all
+that you are in honor bound to do. Squire Conant, as I understand from
+you, is a rich man, so that he will experience no hardship in waiting.”
+
+Paul was now solicitous about a place. The sexton had little influence,
+so that he must depend mainly upon his own inquiries.
+
+He went into the reading-room of the Astor House every day to look over
+the advertised wants in the daily papers. Every day he noted down
+some addresses, and presented himself as an applicant for a position.
+Generally, however, he found that some one else had been before him.
+
+One day his attention was drawn to the following advertisement.
+
+
+“WANTED. A smart, active, wide-awake boy, of sixteen or seventeen, in a
+retail dry-goods store. Apply immediately at--Broadway.”
+
+Paul walked up to the address mentioned. Over the door he read, “Smith &
+Thompson.” This, then, was the firm that had advertised.
+
+The store ran back some distance. There appeared to be six or eight
+clerks in attendance upon quite a respectable number of customers.
+
+“Is Mr. Smith in?” inquired Paul, of the nearest clerk.
+
+“You'll find him at the lower end of the store. How many yards, ma'am?”
+
+This last was of course addressed to a customer.
+
+Paul made his way, as directed, to the lower end of the store.
+
+A short, wiry, nervous man was writing at a desk.
+
+“Is Mr. Smith in?” asked Paul.
+
+“My name; what can I do for you?” said the short man, crisply.
+
+“I saw an advertisement in the Tribune for a boy.”
+
+“And you have applied for the situation?” said Mr. Smith.
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“How old are you?” with a rapid glance at our hero.
+
+“Sixteen--nearly seventeen.”
+
+“I suppose that means that you will be seventeen in eleven months and a
+half.”
+
+“No, sir,” said Paul, “I shall be seventeen in three months.”
+
+“All right. Most boys call themselves a year older. What's your name?”
+
+“Paul Prescott.”
+
+“P. P. Any relation to Fanny Fern?”
+
+“No, sir,” said Paul, rather astonished.
+
+“Didn't know but you might be. P. P. and F. F. Where do you live?”
+
+Paul mentioned the street and number.
+
+“That's well, you are near by,” said Mr. Smith. “Now, are you afraid of
+work?”
+
+“No sir,” said Paul, smiling, “not much.”
+
+“Well, that's important; how much wages do you expect?”
+
+“I suppose,” said Paul, hesitating, “I couldn't expect very much at
+first.”
+
+“Of course not; green, you know. What do you say to a dollar a week?”
+
+“A dollar a week!” exclaimed Paul, in dismay, “I hoped to get enough to
+pay for my board.”
+
+“Nonsense. There are plenty of boys glad enough to come for a dollar a
+week. At first, you know. But I'll stretch a point with you, and offer
+you a dollar and a quarter. What do you say?”
+
+“How soon could I expect to have my wages advanced?” inquired our hero,
+with considerable anxiety.
+
+“Well,” said Smith, “at the end of a month or two.”
+
+“I'll go home and speak to my uncle about it,” said Paul, feeling
+undecided.
+
+“Can't keep the place open for you. Ah, there's another boy at the
+door.”
+
+“I'll accept,” said Paul, jumping to a decision. He had applied in so
+many different quarters without success, that he could not make up his
+mind to throw away this chance, poor as it seemed.
+
+“When shall I come?”
+
+“Come to-morrow.”
+
+“At what time, sir?”
+
+“At seven o'clock.”
+
+This seemed rather early. However, Paul was prepared to expect some
+discomforts, and signified that he would come.
+
+As he turned to go away, another boy passed him, probably bent on the
+same errand with himself.
+
+Paul hardly knew whether to feel glad or sorry. He had expected at least
+three dollars a week, and the descent to a dollar and a quarter was
+rather disheartening. Still, he was encouraged by the promise of a rise
+at the end of a month or two,--so on the whole he went home cheerful.
+
+“Well, Paul, what luck to-day?” asked Mr. Cameron, who had just got home
+as Paul entered.
+
+“I've got a place, Uncle Hugh.”
+
+“You have,--where?”
+
+“With Smith & Thompson, No.--Broadway.”
+
+“What sort of a store? I don't remember the name.”
+
+“It is a retail dry-goods store.”
+
+“Did you like the looks of your future employer?”
+
+“I don't know,” said Paul, hesitating, “He looked as if he might be a
+pretty sharp man in business, but I have seen others that I would rather
+work for. However, beggars mustn't be choosers. But there was one thing
+I was disappointed about.”
+
+“What was that, Paul?”
+
+“About the wages.”
+
+“How much will they give you?”
+
+“Only a dollar and a quarter a week, at first.”
+
+“That is small, to be sure.”
+
+“The most I think of, Uncle Hugh, is, that I shall still be an expense
+to you. I hoped to get enough to be able to pay my board from the
+first.”
+
+“My dear boy,” said the sexton, kindly, “don't trouble yourself on that
+score. It costs little more for three than for two, and the little I
+expend on your account is richly made up by the satisfaction we feel in
+your society, and your good conduct.”
+
+“You say that to encourage me, Uncle Hugh,” said Paul. “You have done
+all for me. I have done nothing for you.”
+
+“No, Paul, I spoke the truth. Hester and I have both been happier since
+you came to us. We hope you will long remain with us. You are already as
+dear to us as the son that we lost.”
+
+“Thank you, Uncle Hugh,” said Paul, in a voice tremulous with feeling.
+“I will do all I can to deserve your kindness.”
+
+
+
+
+XXI.
+
+SMITH AND THOMPSON'S YOUNG MAN.
+
+
+At seven o'clock the next morning Paul stood before Smith & Thompson's
+store.
+
+As he came up on one side, another boy came down on the other, and
+crossed the street.
+
+“Are you the new boy?” he asked, surveying Paul attentively.
+
+“I suppose so,” said Paul. “I've engaged to work for Smith & Thompson.”
+
+“All right. I'm glad to see you,” said the other.
+
+This looked kind, and Paul thanked him for his welcome.
+
+“O.” said the other, bursting into a laugh, “you needn't trouble
+yourself about thanking me. I'm glad you've come, because now I shan't
+have to open the store and sweep out. Just lend a hand there; I'll help
+you about taking down the shutters this morning, and to-morrow you'll
+have to get along alone.”
+
+The two boys opened the store.
+
+“What's your name?” asked Paul's new acquaintance.
+
+“Paul Prescott. What is yours?”
+
+“Nicholas Benton. You may call me MR. Benton.”
+
+“Mr. Benton?” repeated Paul in some astonishment.
+
+“Yes; I'm a young man now. I've been Smith & Thompson's boy till now.
+Now I'm promoted.”
+
+Paul looked at MR. Benton with some amusement. That young man was
+somewhat shorter than himself, and sole proprietor of a stock of pale
+yellow hair which required an abundant stock of bear's grease to keep
+it in order. His face was freckled and expressionless. His eyebrows and
+eyelashes were of the same faded color. He was dressed, however,
+with some pretensions to smartness. He wore a blue necktie, of large
+dimensions, fastened by an enormous breast-pin, which, in its already
+tarnished splendor, suggested strong doubts as to the apparent gold
+being genuine.
+
+“There's the broom, Paul,” said Mr. Benton, assuming a graceful position
+on the counter.
+
+“You'll have to sweep out; only look sharp about raising a dust, or
+Smith'll be into your wool.”
+
+“What sort of a man is Mr. Smith?” asked Paul, with some curiosity.
+
+“O, he's an out and outer. Sharp as a steel trap. He'll make you toe the
+mark.”
+
+“Do you like him?” asked Paul, not quite sure whether he understood his
+employer's character from the description.
+
+“I don't like him well enough to advise any of my folks to trade with
+him,” said Mr. Benton.
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“He'd cheat 'em out of their eye teeth if they happened to have any,”
+ said the young man coolly, beginning to pick his teeth with a knife.
+
+Paul began to doubt whether he should like Mr. Smith.
+
+“I say,” said Mr. Benton after a pause, “have you begun to shave yet?”
+
+Paul looked up to see if his companion were in earnest.
+
+“No,” said he; “I haven't got along as far as that. Have you?”
+
+“I,” repeated the young man, a little contemptuously, “of course I have.
+I've shaved for a year and a half.”
+
+“Do you find it hard shaving?” asked Paul, a little slyly.
+
+“Well, my beard is rather stiff,” said the late BOY, with an important
+air, “but I've got used to it.”
+
+“Ain't you rather young to shave, Nicholas?” asked Paul.
+
+“Mr. Benton, if you please.”
+
+“I mean, Mr. Benton.”
+
+“Perhaps I was when I begun. But now I am nineteen.”
+
+“Nineteen?”
+
+“Yes, that is to say, I'm within a few months of being nineteen. What do
+you think of my moustache?”
+
+“I hadn't noticed it.”
+
+“The store's rather dark,” muttered Mr. Benton, who seemed a little
+annoyed by this answer. “If you'll come a little nearer you can see it.”
+
+Drawing near, Paul, after some trouble, descried a few scattering hairs.
+
+“Yes,” said he, wanting to laugh, “I see it.”
+
+“Coming on finely, isn't it?” asked Mr. Nicholas Benton, complacently.
+
+“Yes,” said Paul, rather doubtfully.
+
+“I don't mind letting you into a secret,” said Benton, affably, “if you
+won't mention it. I've been using some of the six weeks' stuff.”
+
+“The what?” asked Paul, opening his eyes.
+
+“Haven't you heard of it?” inquired Benton, a little contemptuously.
+“Where have you been living all your life? Haven't you seen it
+advertised,--warranted to produce a full set of whiskers or moustaches
+upon the smoothest face, etc. I got some a week ago, only a dollar. Five
+weeks from now you'll see something that'll astonish you.”
+
+Paul was not a little amused by his new companion, and would have
+laughed, but that he feared to offend him.
+
+“You'd better get some,” said Mr. Benton. “I'll let you just try mine
+once, if you want to.”
+
+“Thank you,” said Paul; “I don't think I want to have a moustache just
+yet.”
+
+“Well, perhaps you're right. Being a boy, perhaps it wouldn't be
+advisable.”
+
+“When does Mr. Smith come in?”
+
+“Not till nine.”
+
+“And the other clerks?”
+
+“About eight o'clock. I shan't come till eight, to-morrow morning.”
+
+“There's one thing I should like to ask you,” said Paul. “Of course you
+won't answer unless you like.”
+
+“Out with it.”
+
+“How much does Mr. Smith pay you?”
+
+“Ahem!” said Benton, “what does he pay you?”
+
+“A dollar and a quarter a week.”
+
+“He paid me a dollar and a half to begin with.”
+
+“Did he? He wanted me to come first at a dollar.”
+
+“Just like him. Didn't I tell you he was an out and outer? He'll be sure
+to take you in if you will let him.”
+
+“But,” said Paul, anxiously, “he said he'd raise it in a month or two.”
+
+“He won't offer to; you'll have to tease him. And then how much'll he
+raise it? Not more than a quarter. How much do you think I get now?”
+
+“How long have you been here?”
+
+“A year and a half.”
+
+“Five dollars a week,” guessed Paul.
+
+“Five! he only gives me two and a half. That is, he hasn't been paying
+me but that. Now, of course, he'll raise, as I've been promoted.”
+
+“How much do you expect to get now?”
+
+“Maybe four dollars, and I'm worth ten any day. He's a mean old
+skinflint, Smith is.”
+
+This glimpse at his own prospects did not tend to make Paul feel very
+comfortable. He could not repress a sigh of disappointment when he
+thought of this mortifying termination of all his brilliant prospects.
+He had long nourished the hope of being able to repay the good sexton
+for his outlay in his behalf, besides discharging the debt which his
+father had left behind him. Now there seemed to be little prospect of
+either. He had half a mind to resign his place immediately upon the
+entrance of Mr. Smith, but two considerations dissuaded him; one, that
+the sum which he was to receive, though small, would at least buy his
+clothes, and besides, he was not at all certain of obtaining another
+situation.
+
+With a sigh, therefore, he went about his duties.
+
+He had scarcely got the store ready when some of the clerks entered, and
+the business of the day commenced. At nine Mr. Smith appeared.
+
+“So you're here, Peter,” remarked he, as he caught sight of our hero.
+
+“Paul,” corrected the owner of that name.
+
+“Well, well, Peter or Paul, don't make much difference. Both were
+apostles, if I remember right. All ready for work, eh?”
+
+“Yes, sir,” said Paul, neither very briskly nor cheerfully.
+
+“Well,” said Mr. Smith, after a pause, “I guess I'll put you into the
+calico department. Williams, you may take him under your wing. And now
+Peter,--all the same, Paul,--I've got a word or two to say to you, as I
+always do to every boy who comes into my store. Don't forget what you're
+here for? It's to sell goods. Take care to sell something to every man,
+woman, and child, that comes in your way. That's the way to do business.
+Follow it up, and you'll be a rich man some day.”
+
+“But suppose they don't want anything?” said Paul.
+
+“Make 'em want something,” returned Smith, “Don't let 'em off without
+buying. That's my motto. However, you'll learn.”
+
+Smith bustled off, and began in his nervous way to exercise a general
+supervision over all that was going on in the store. He seemed to be all
+eyes. While apparently entirely occupied in waiting upon a customer, he
+took notice of all the customers in the store, and could tell what they
+bought, and how much they paid.
+
+Paul listened attentively to the clerk under whom he was placed for
+instruction.
+
+“What's the price of this calico?” inquired a common-looking woman.
+
+“A shilling a yard, ma'am,” (this was not in war times.)
+
+“It looks rather coarse.”
+
+“Coarse, ma'am! What can you be thinking of? It is a superfine piece of
+goods. We sell more of it than of any other figure. The mayor's wife was
+in here yesterday, and bought two dress patterns off of it.”
+
+“Did she?” asked the woman, who appeared favorably impressed by this
+circumstance.
+
+“Yes, and she promised to send her friends here after some of it. You'd
+better take it while you can get it.”
+
+“Will it wash?”
+
+“To be sure it will.”
+
+“Then I guess you may cut me off ten yards.”
+
+This was quickly done, and the woman departed with her purchase.
+
+Five minutes later, another woman entered with a bundle of the same
+figured calico.
+
+Seeing her coming, Williams hastily slipped the remnant of the piece out
+of sight.
+
+“I got this calico here,” said the newcomer, “one day last week. You
+warranted it to wash, but I find it won't. Here's a piece I've tried.”
+
+She showed a pattern, which had a faded look.
+
+“You've come to the wrong store,” said Williams, coolly. “You must have
+got the calico somewhere else.”
+
+“No, I'm sure I got it here. I remember particularly buying it of you.”
+
+“You've got a better memory than I have, then. We haven't got a piece of
+calico like that in the store.”
+
+Paul listened to this assertion with unutterable surprise.
+
+“I am quite certain I bought it here,” said the woman, perplexed.
+
+“Must have been the next store,--Blake & Hastings. Better go over
+there.”
+
+The woman went out.
+
+“That's the way to do business,” said Williams, winking at Paul.
+
+Paul said nothing, but he felt more than ever doubtful about retaining
+his place.
+
+
+
+
+XXII.
+
+MR. BENTON'S ADVENTURE.
+
+
+One evening, about a fortnight after his entrance into Smith &
+Thompson's employment, Paul was putting up the shutters, the business
+of the day being over. It devolved upon him to open and close the store,
+and usually he was the last one to go home.
+
+This evening, however, Mr. Nicholas Benton graciously remained behind
+and assisted Paul in closing the store. This was unusual, and surprised
+Paul a little. It was soon explained, however.
+
+“Good-night, Nicholas,--I mean, Mr. Benton,” said Paul.
+
+“Not quite yet. I want you to walk a little way with me this evening.”
+
+Paul hesitated.
+
+“Come, no backing out. I want to confide to you a very important
+secret.”
+
+He looked so mysterious that Paul's curiosity was aroused, and
+reflecting that it was yet early, he took his companion's proffered arm,
+and sauntered along by his side.
+
+“What's the secret?” he asked at length, perceiving that Nicholas was
+silent.
+
+“Wait till we get to a more retired place.”
+
+He turned out of Broadway into a side street, where the passers were
+less numerous.
+
+“I don't think you could guess,” said the young man, turning towards our
+hero.
+
+“I don't think I could.”
+
+“And yet,” continued Benton, meditatively, “it is possible that you may
+have noticed something in my appearance just a little unusual, within
+the last week. Haven't you, now?”
+
+Paul could not say that he had.
+
+Mr. Benton looked a little disappointed.
+
+“Nobody can tell what has been the state of my feelings,” he resumed
+after a pause.
+
+“You ain't sick?” questioned Paul, hastily.
+
+“Nothing of the sort, only my appetite has been a good deal affected.
+I don't think I have eaten as much in a week as you would in a day,” he
+added, complacently.
+
+“If I felt that way I should think I was going to be sick,” said Paul.
+
+“I'll let you into the secret,” said Mr. Benton, lowering his voice, and
+looking carefully about him, to make sure that no one was within hearing
+distance--“I'M IN LOVE.”
+
+This seemed so utterly ludicrous to Paul, that he came very near losing
+Mr. Benton's friendship forever by bursting into a hearty laugh.
+
+“I didn't think of that,” he said.
+
+“It's taken away my appetite, and I haven't been able to sleep nights,”
+ continued Mr. Benton, in a cheerful tone. “I feel just as Howard
+Courtenay did in the great story that's coming out in the Weekly Budget.
+You've read it, haven't you?”
+
+“I don't think I have,” said Paul.
+
+“Then you ought to. It's tiptop. It's rather curious too that the lady
+looks just as Miranda does, in the same story.”
+
+“How is that?”
+
+“Wait a minute, and I'll read the description.”
+
+Mr. Benton pulled a paper from his pocket,--the last copy of the Weekly
+Budget,--and by the light of a street lamp read the following extract to
+his amused auditor.
+
+“Miranda was just eighteen. Her form was queenly and majestic. Tall and
+stately, she moved among her handmaidens with a dignity which
+revealed her superior rank. Her eyes were dark as night. Her luxuriant
+tresses,--there, the rest is torn off,” said Mr. Benton, in a tone of
+vexation.
+
+“She is tall, then?” said Paul.
+
+“Yes, just like Miranda.”
+
+“Then,” said our hero, in some hesitation, “I should think she would not
+be very well suited to you.”
+
+“Why not?” asked Mr. Benton, quickly.
+
+“Because,” said Paul, “you're rather short, you know.”
+
+“I'm about the medium height,” said Mr. Benton, raising himself upon his
+toes as he spoke.
+
+“Not quite,” said Paul, trying not to laugh.
+
+“I'm as tall as Mr. Smith,” resumed Mr. Benton, in a tone which warned
+Paul that this was a forbidden subject. “But you don't ask me who she
+is.”
+
+“I didn't know as you would be willing to tell.”
+
+“I shan't tell any one but you. It's Miss Hawkins,--firm of Hawkins &
+Brewer. That is, her father belongs to the firm, not she. And Paul,”
+ here he clutched our hero's arm convulsively, “I've made a declaration
+of my love, and--and----”
+
+“Well?”
+
+“She has answered my letter.”
+
+“Has she?” asked Paul with some curiosity, “What did she say?”
+
+“She has written me to be under her window this evening.”
+
+“Why under her window? why didn't she write you to call?”
+
+“Probably she will, but it's more romantic to say, 'be under my
+window.'”
+
+“Well, perhaps it is; only you know I don't know much about such
+things.”
+
+“Of course not, Paul,” said Mr. Benton; “you're only a boy, you know.”
+
+“Are you going to be under her window, Nich,--I mean Mr. Benton?”
+
+“Of course. Do you think I would miss the appointment? No earthly power
+could prevent my doing it.”
+
+“Then I had better leave you,” said Paul, making a movement to go.
+
+“No, I want you to accompany me as far as the door. I feel--a little
+agitated. I suppose everybody does when they are in love,” added Mr.
+Benton, complacently.
+
+“Well,” said Paul, “I will see you to the door, but I can't stay, for
+they will wonder at home what has become of me.”
+
+“All right.”
+
+“Are we anywhere near the house?”
+
+“Yes, it's only in the next street,” said Mr. Benton, “O, Paul, how my
+heart beats! You can't imagine how I feel!”
+
+Mr. Benton gasped for breath, and looked as if he had swallowed a fish
+bone, which he had some difficulty in getting down.
+
+“You'll know how to understand my feelings sometime, Paul,” said Mr.
+Benton; “when your time comes, I will remember your service of to-night,
+and I will stand by you.”
+
+Paul inwardly hoped that he should never fall in love, if it was likely
+to affect him in the same way as his companion, but he thought it best
+not to say so.
+
+By this time they had come in sight of a three-story brick house, with
+Benjamin Hawkins on the door-plate.
+
+“That's the house,” said Mr. Benton, in an agitated whisper.
+
+“Is it?”
+
+“Yes, and that window on the left-hand side is the window of her
+chamber.”
+
+“How do you know?”
+
+“She told me in the letter.”
+
+“And where are you to stand?”
+
+“Just underneath, as the clock strikes nine. It must be about the time.”
+
+At that moment the city clock struck nine.
+
+Mr. Benton left Paul, and crossing the street, took up his position
+beneath the window of his charmer, beginning to sing, in a thin, piping
+voice, as preconcerted between them--
+
+     “Ever of thee,
+     I'm fo-o-ondly dreaming.”
+
+The song was destined never to be finished.
+
+From his post in a doorway opposite, Paul saw the window softly open. He
+could distinguish a tall female figure, doubtless Miss Hawkins herself.
+She held in her hand a pitcher of water, which she emptied with
+well-directed aim full upon the small person of her luckless admirer.
+
+The falling column struck upon his beaver, thence spreading on all
+sides. His carefully starched collar became instantly as limp as a rag,
+while his coat suffered severely from the shower.
+
+His tuneful accents died away in dismay.
+
+“Ow!” he exclaimed, jumping at least a yard, and involuntarily shaking
+himself like a dog, “who did that?”
+
+There was no answer save a low, musical laugh from the window above,
+which was involuntarily echoed by Paul.
+
+“What do you mean by laughing at me?” demanded Mr. Benton, smarting with
+mortification, as he strode across the street, trying to dry his hat
+with the help of his handkerchief, “Is this what you call friendship?”
+
+“Excuse me,” gasped Paul, “but I really couldn't help it.”
+
+“I don't see anything to laugh at,” continued Mr. Benton, in a resentful
+tone; “because I have been subjected to unmanly persecution, you must
+laugh at me, instead of extending to me the sympathy of a friend.”
+
+“I suppose you won't think of her any more,” said Paul, recovering
+himself.
+
+“Think of her!” exclaimed Mr. Benton, “would you have me tear her from
+my heart, because her mercenary parent chooses to frown upon our love,
+and follow me with base persecution.”
+
+“Her parent!”
+
+“Yes, it was he who threw the water upon me. But it shall not avail,”
+ the young man continued, folding his arms, and speaking in a tone of
+resolution, “bolts and bars shall not keep two loving hearts asunder.”
+
+“But it wasn't her father,” urged Paul, perceiving that Mr. Benton was
+under a mistake.
+
+“Who was it, then?”
+
+“It was the young lady herself.”
+
+“Who threw the water upon me? It is a base slander.”
+
+“But I saw her.”
+
+“Saw who?”
+
+“A tall young lady with black hair.”
+
+“And was it she who threw the water?” asked Mr. Benton, aghast at this
+unexpected revelation.
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Then she did it at the command of her proud parent.”
+
+Paul did not dispute this, since it seemed to comfort Mr. Benton. It is
+doubtful, however, whether the young man believed it himself, since he
+straightway fell into a fit of gloomy abstraction, and made no response
+when Paul bade him “good-night.”
+
+
+
+
+
+XXIII.
+
+PAUL LOSES HIS SITUATION AND GAINS A FRIEND.
+
+
+Paul had a presentiment that he should not long remain in the employ
+of Smith & Thompson; it was not many weeks before this presentiment was
+verified.
+
+After having received such instruction as was necessary, the calico
+department was left in Paul's charge. One day a customer in turning over
+the patterns shown her took up a piece which Paul knew from complaints
+made by purchasers would not wash.
+
+“This is pretty,” said she, “it is just what I have been looking for.
+You may cut me off twelve yards.”
+
+“Yes, ma'am.”
+
+“Wait a minute, though,” interposed the lady, “will it wash?”
+
+“I don't think it will,” said Paul, frankly, “there have been some
+complaints made about that.”
+
+“Then I shall not want it. Let me see what else you have got.”
+
+The customer finally departed, having found nothing to suit her.
+
+No sooner had she left the store than Mr. Smith called Paul.
+
+“Well, did you sell that lady anything?”
+
+“No, sir.”
+
+“And why not?” demanded Smith, harshly.
+
+“Because she did not like any of the pieces.”
+
+“Wouldn't she have ordered a dress pattern if you had not told her the
+calico would not wash?”
+
+“Yes, sir, I suppose so,” said Paul, preparing for a storm.
+
+“Then why did you tell her?” demanded his employer, angrily.
+
+“Because she asked me.”
+
+“Couldn't you have told her that it would wash?”
+
+“That would not have been the truth,” said Paul, sturdily.
+
+“You're a mighty conscientious young man,” sneered Smith, “You're
+altogether too pious to succeed in business. I discharge you from my
+employment.”
+
+“Very well, sir,” said Paul, his heart sinking, but keeping up a brave
+exterior, “then I have only to bid you good-morning.”
+
+“Good-morning, sir,” said his employer with mock deference, “I advise
+you to study for the ministry, and no longer waste your talents in
+selling calico.”
+
+Paul made no reply, but putting on his cap walked out of the store. It
+was the middle of the week, and Mr. Smith was, of course, owing him a
+small sum for his services; but Paul was too proud to ask for his money,
+which that gentleman did not see fit to volunteer.
+
+“I am sure I have done right,” thought Paul. “I had no right to
+misrepresent the goods to that lady. I wonder what Uncle Hugh will say.”
+
+“You did perfectly right,” said the sexton, after Paul had related the
+circumstances of his dismissal. “I wouldn't have had you act differently
+for twenty situations. I have no doubt you will get a better position
+elsewhere.”
+
+“I hope so,” said Paul. “Now that I have lost the situation, Uncle Hugh,
+I don't mind saying that I never liked it.”
+
+Now commenced a search for another place. Day after day Paul went out,
+and day after day he returned with the same want of success.
+
+“Never mind, Paul,” said the sexton encouragingly. “When you do succeed,
+perhaps you'll get something worth waiting for.”
+
+One morning Paul went out feeling that something was going to
+happen,--he didn't exactly know what,--but he felt somehow that there
+was to be a change in his luck. He went out, therefore, with more
+hopefulness than usual; yet, when four o'clock came, and nothing had
+occurred except failure and disappointment, which unhappily were not
+at all out of the ordinary course, Paul began to think that he was very
+foolish to have expected anything.
+
+He was walking listlessly along a narrow street, when, on a sudden, he
+heard an exclamation of terror, of which, on turning round, he easily
+discovered the cause.
+
+Two spirited horses, attached to an elegant carriage, had been terrified
+in some way, and were now running at the top of their speed.
+
+There was no coachman on the box; he had dismounted in order to ring
+at some door, when the horses started. He was now doing his best to
+overtake the horses, but in a race between man and horse, it is easy to
+predict which will have the advantage.
+
+There seemed to be but one person in the carriage. It was a lady,--whose
+face, pale with terror, could be seen from the carriage window. Her
+loud cries of alarm no doubt terrified the horses still more, and, by
+accelerating their speed, tended to make matters worse.
+
+Paul was roused from a train of despondent reflections by seeing the
+horses coming up the street. He instantly comprehended the whole danger
+of the lady's situation.
+
+Most boys would have thought of nothing but getting out of the way, and
+leaving the carriage and its inmate to their fate. What, indeed, could a
+boy do against a pair of powerful horses, almost beside themselves with
+fright?
+
+But our hero, as we have already had occasion to see, was brave and
+self-possessed, and felt an instant desire to rescue the lady, whose
+glance of helpless terror, as she leaned her head from the window, he
+could see. Naturally quickwitted, it flashed upon him that the only way
+to relieve a horse from one terror, was to bring another to bear upon
+him.
+
+With scarcely a moment's premeditation, he rushed out into the middle of
+the street, full in the path of the furious horses, and with his cheeks
+pale, for he knew his danger, but with determined air, he waved his arms
+aloft, and cried “Whoa!” at the top of his voice.
+
+The horses saw the sudden movement. They saw the boy standing directly
+in front of them. They heard the word of command to which they had been
+used, and by a sudden impulse, relieved from the blind terror which had
+urged them on, they stopped suddenly, and stood still in the middle of
+the street, still showing in their quivering limbs the agitation through
+which they had passed.
+
+Just then the coachman, panting with his hurried running, came up and
+seized them by the head.
+
+“Youngster,” said he, “you're a brave fellow. You've done us a good
+service to-day. You're a pretty cool hand, you are. I don't know what
+these foolish horses would have done with the carriage if it had not
+been for you.”
+
+“Let me get out,” exclaimed the lady, not yet recovered from her fright.
+
+“I will open the door,” said Paul, observing that the coachman was fully
+occupied in soothing the horses.
+
+He sprang forward, and opening the door of the carriage assisted the
+lady to descend.
+
+She breathed quickly.
+
+“I have been very much frightened,” she said; “and I believe I have been
+in very great danger. Are you the brave boy who stopped the horses?”
+
+Paul modestly answered in the affirmative.
+
+“And how did you do it? I was so terrified that I was hardly conscious
+of what was passing, till the horses stopped.”
+
+Paul modestly related his agency in the matter.
+
+The lady gazed at his flushed face admiringly.
+
+“How could you have so much courage?” she asked. “You might have been
+trampled to death under the hoofs of the horses.”
+
+“I didn't think of that. I only thought of stopping the horses.”
+
+“You are a brave boy. I shudder when I think of your danger and mine. I
+shall not dare to get into the carriage again this afternoon.”
+
+“Allow me to accompany you home?” said Paul, politely.
+
+“Thank you; I will trouble you to go with me as far as Broadway, and
+then I can get into an omnibus.”
+
+She turned and addressed some words to the coachman, directing him to
+drive home as soon as the horses were quieted, adding that she would
+trust herself to the escort of the young hero, who had rescued her from
+the late peril.
+
+“You're a lucky boy,” thought John, the coachman. “My mistress is one
+that never does anything by halves. It won't be for nothing that you
+have rescued her this afternoon.”
+
+As they walked along, the lady, by delicate questioning, succeeded in
+drawing from our hero his hopes and wishes for the future. Paul, who
+was of a frank and open nature, found it very natural to tell her all he
+felt and wished.
+
+“He seems a remarkably fine boy,” thought the lady to herself. “I should
+like to do something for him.”
+
+They emerged into Broadway.
+
+“I will detain you a little longer,” said the lady; “and perhaps trouble
+you with a parcel.”
+
+“I shall be very glad to take it,” said Paul politely.
+
+Appleton's bookstore was close at hand. Into this the lady went,
+followed by her young companion.
+
+A clerk advanced, and inquired her wishes.
+
+“Will you show me some writing-desks?”
+
+“I am going to purchase a writing-desk for a young friend of mine,” she
+explained to Paul; “as he is a boy, like yourself, perhaps you can guide
+me in the selection.”
+
+“Certainly,” said Paul, unsuspiciously.
+
+Several desks were shown. Paul expressed himself admiringly of one made
+of rosewood inlaid with pearl.
+
+“I think I will take it,” said the lady.
+
+The price was paid, and the desk was wrapped up.
+
+“Now,” said Mrs. Danforth, for this proved to be her name, “I will
+trouble you, Paul, to take the desk for me, and accompany me in the
+omnibus, that is, if you have no other occupation for your time.”
+
+“I am quite at leisure,” said Paul. “I shall be most happy to do so.”
+
+Paul left the lady at the door of her residence in Fifth Avenue, and
+promised to call on his new friend the next day.
+
+He went home feeling that, though he had met with no success in
+obtaining a place, he had been very fortunate in rendering so important
+a service to a lady whose friendship might be of essential service to
+him.
+
+
+
+
+XXIV.
+
+PAUL CALLS ON MRS. DANFORTH.
+
+
+“Mrs. Edward Danforth,” repeated the sexton, on hearing the story of
+Paul's exploit.
+
+“Why, she attends our church.”
+
+“Do you know Mr. Danforth?” asked Paul, with interest.
+
+“Only by sight. I know him by reputation, however.”
+
+“I suppose he is very rich.”
+
+“Yes, I should judge so. At any rate, he is doing an extensive
+business.”
+
+“What is his business?”
+
+“He is a merchant.”
+
+“A merchant,” thought Paul; “that is just what I should like to be, but
+I don't see much prospect of it.”
+
+“How do you like Mrs. Danforth?” inquired the sexton.
+
+“Very much,” said Paul, warmly. “She was very kind, and made me feel
+quite at home in her company.”
+
+“I hope she may be disposed to assist you. She can easily do so, in her
+position.”
+
+The next day Paul did not as usual go out in search of a situation.
+His mind was occupied with thoughts of his coming interview with Mrs.
+Danforth, and he thought he would defer his business plans till the
+succeeding day.
+
+At an early hour in the evening, he paused before an imposing residence
+on Fifth Avenue, which he had seen but not entered the day previous.
+
+He mounted the steps and pulled the bell.
+
+A smart-looking man-servant answered his ring.
+
+“Is Mrs. Danforth at home?” asked Paul.
+
+“Yes, I believe so.”
+
+“I have called to see her.”
+
+“Does she expect you?” asked the servant, looking surprised.
+
+“Yes; I come at her appointment,” said Paul.
+
+“Then I suppose it's all right,” said the man. “Will you come in?” he
+asked, a little doubtfully.
+
+Paul followed him into the house, and was shown into the drawing-room,
+the magnificence of which somewhat dazzled his eyes; accustomed only to
+the plain sitting-room of Mr. Cameron.
+
+The servant reappeared after a brief absence, and with rather more
+politeness than he had before shown, invited Paul to follow him to a
+private sitting-room upstairs, where he would see Mrs. Danforth.
+
+Looking at Paul's plain, though neat clothes, the servant was a little
+puzzled to understand what had obtained for Paul the honor of being on
+visiting terms with Mrs. Danforth.
+
+“Good evening, Paul,” said Mrs. Danforth, rising from her seat and
+welcoming our hero with extended hand. “So you did not forget your
+appointment.”
+
+“There was no fear of that,” said Paul, with his usual frankness. “I
+have been looking forward to coming all day.”
+
+“Have you, indeed?” said the lady with a pleasant smile.
+
+“Then I must endeavor to make your visit agreeable to you. Do you
+recognize this desk?”
+
+Upon a table close by, was the desk which had been purchased the day
+previous, at Appleton's.
+
+“Yes,” said Paul, “it is the one you bought yesterday. I think it is
+very handsome.”
+
+“I am glad you think so. I think I told you that I intended it for a
+present. I have had the new owner's name engraved upon it.”
+
+Paul read the name upon the plate provided for the purpose. His face
+flushed with surprise and pleasure. That name was his own.
+
+“Do you really mean it for me,” he asked.
+
+“If you will accept it,” said Mrs. Danforth, smiling.
+
+“I shall value it very much,” said Paul, gratefully. “And I feel very
+much indebted to your kindness.”
+
+“We won't talk of indebtedness, for you remember mine is much the
+greater. If you will open the desk you will find that it is furnished
+with what will, I hope, prove of use to you.”
+
+The desk being opened, proved to contain a liberal supply of stationery,
+sealing wax, postage stamps, and pens.
+
+Paul was delighted with his new present, and Mrs. Danforth seemed to
+enjoy the evident gratification with which it inspired him.
+
+“Now,” said she, “tell me a little about yourself. Have you always lived
+in New York?”
+
+“Only about three years,” said Paul.
+
+“And where did you live before?”
+
+“At Wrenville, in Connecticut.”
+
+“I have heard of the place. A small country town, is it not?”
+
+Paul answered in the affirmative.
+
+“How did you happen to leave Wrenville, and come to New York?”
+
+Paul blushed, and hesitated a moment.
+
+“I ran away,” he said at length, determined to keep nothing back.
+
+“Ran away! Not from home, I hope.”
+
+“I had no home,” said Paul, soberly. “I should never have left there, if
+my father had not died. Then I was thrown upon the world. I was sent
+to the Poorhouse. I did not want to go, for I thought I could support
+myself.”
+
+“That is a very honorable feeling. I suppose you did not fare very well
+at the Poorhouse.”
+
+In reply, Paul detailed some of the grievances to which he had been
+subjected. Mrs. Danforth listened with sympathizing attention.
+
+“You were entirely justified in running away,” she said, as he
+concluded. “I can hardly imagine so great a lack of humanity as these
+people showed. You are now, I hope, pleasantly situated?”
+
+“Yes,” said Paul, “Mr. and Mrs. Cameron treat me with as great kindness
+as if I were their own child.”
+
+“Cameron! Is not that the name of the sexton of our church?” said Mrs.
+Danforth, meditatively.
+
+“It is with him that I have a pleasant home.”
+
+“Indeed, I am glad to hear it. You have been attending school, I
+suppose.”
+
+“Yes, it is not more than two months since I left off school.”
+
+“And now I suppose you are thinking of entering upon some business.”
+
+“Yes; I have been trying to obtain a place in some merchant's
+counting-room.”
+
+“You think, then, that you would like the career of a merchant?”
+
+“There is nothing that would suit me better.”
+
+“You have not succeeded in obtaining a place yet, I suppose?”
+
+“No. They are very difficult to get, and I have no influential friends
+to assist me.”
+
+“I have heard Mr. Danforth say that he experienced equal difficulty when
+he came to New York, a poor boy.”
+
+Paul looked surprised.
+
+“I see that you are surprised,” said Mrs. Danforth, smiling. “You think,
+perhaps, judging from what you see, that my husband was always rich. But
+he was the son of a poor farmer, and was obliged to make his own way in
+the world. By the blessing of God, he has been prospered in business and
+become rich. But he often speaks of his early discouragements and small
+beginnings. I am sorry he is not here this evening. By the way, he left
+word for you to call at his counting-room to-morrow, at eleven o'clock.
+I will give you his address.”
+
+She handed Paul a card containing the specified number, and soon
+after he withdrew, bearing with him his handsome gift, and a cordial
+invitation to repeat his call.
+
+He looked back at the elegant mansion which he had just left, and could
+not help feeling surprised that the owner of such a palace, should have
+started in life with no greater advantages than himself.
+
+
+
+
+XXV.
+
+AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.
+
+
+Paul slept late the next morning. He did not hear the breakfast-bell,
+and when the sexton came up to awaken him he rubbed his eyes with
+such an expression of bewilderment that Mr. Cameron could not forbear
+laughing.
+
+“You must have had queer dreams, Paul,” said he.
+
+“Yes, Uncle Hugh,” said Paul, laughing, “I believe I have.”
+
+“When you have collected your wits, which at present seem absent on
+a wool-gathering expedition, perhaps you will tell what you have been
+dreaming about.”
+
+“So I will,” said Paul, “and perhaps you can interpret it for me. I
+dreamed that I was back again at Mr. Mudge's, and that he sent me out
+into the field to dig potatoes. I worked away at the first hill, but
+found no potatoes. In place of them were several gold pieces. I picked
+them up in great surprise, and instead of putting them into the basket,
+concluded to put them in my pocket. But as all the hills turned out
+in the same way I got my pockets full, and had to put the rest in the
+basket. I was just wondering what they would do for potatoes, when all
+at once a great dog came up and seized me by the arm----”
+
+“And you opened your eyes and saw me,” said the sexton, finishing out
+his narrative.
+
+“Upon my word, that's very complimentary to me. However, some of our
+potatoes have escaped transformation into gold pieces, but I am afraid
+you will find them rather cold if you don't get down to breakfast pretty
+quick.”
+
+“All right, Uncle Hugh. I'll be down in a jiffy.”
+
+About half-past ten Paul started on his way to Mr. Danforth's
+counting-room. It was located on Wall Street, as he learned from the
+card which had been given him by Mrs. Danforth. He felt a little awkward
+in making this call. It seemed as if he were going to receive thanks for
+the service which he had rendered, and he felt that he had already been
+abundantly repaid. However, he was bound in courtesy to call, since he
+did so at the request of Mrs. Danforth.
+
+It was a large stone building, divided up into offices, to which Paul
+had been directed. Mr. Danforth's office he found after a little search,
+upon the second floor.
+
+He opened the door with a little embarrassment, and looked about him.
+
+In one corner was a small room, used as a more private office, the door
+of which was closed. In the larger room the only one whom he saw, was
+a boy, apparently about his own age, who was standing at a desk and
+writing.
+
+This boy looked around as Paul entered, and he at once recognized in him
+an old acquaintance.
+
+“George Dawkins!” he exclaimed in surprise.
+
+The latter answered in a careless indifferent tone, not exhibiting any
+very decided pleasure at meeting his old schoolmate.
+
+“Oh, it's you, Prescott, is it?”
+
+“Yes,” said Paul, “I haven't met you since you left our school.”
+
+“No, I believe we have not met,” said Dawkins, in the same tone as
+before.
+
+“How long have you been in this office?” asked our hero.
+
+“I really can't say,” said Dawkins, not looking up.
+
+“You can't say!”
+
+“No, I'm rather forgetful.”
+
+Paul could not help feeling chilled at the indifferent manner in which
+his advances were met. He had been really glad to see Dawkins, and had
+addressed him with cordiality. He could not conceal from himself that
+Dawkins did not seem inclined to respond to it.
+
+“Still,” thought Paul, extenuatingly, “perhaps that is his way.”
+
+As the conversation began to flag, Paul was reminded of his errand by
+Dawkins saying, in a tone which was half a sneer, “Have you any business
+with Mr. Danforth this morning, or did you merely come in out of
+curiosity?”
+
+“I have called to see Mr. Danforth,” said Paul.
+
+“He is usually pretty busy in the morning,” said Dawkins.
+
+“He directed me to call in the morning,” said Paul, sturdily.
+
+“Oh, indeed!” said Dawkins, a little surprised. “I wonder,” he thought,
+“what business this fellow can have with Mr. Danforth. Can he be fishing
+for a place?”
+
+“Mr. Danforth is engaged with a visitor just now,” he at length
+condescended to say; “if your time is not too valuable to wait, you can
+see him by-and-by.”
+
+“Thank you,” said Paul, rather nettled, “you are very polite.”
+
+To this Dawkins made no reply, but resumed his pen, and for the next ten
+minutes seemed entirely oblivious of Paul's presence.
+
+Our hero took up the morning paper, and began, as he had so often done
+before, to look over the list of wants, thinking it possible he might
+find some opening for himself.
+
+About ten minutes later the door of the inner office opened, and two
+gentlemen came out. One was a gentleman of fifty, a business friend of
+Mr. Danforth's, the other was Mr. Danforth himself.
+
+The former remarked, on seeing Paul, “Is this your son, Danforth?”
+
+“No,” said the merchant, nodding in a friendly manner to Paul.
+
+“That's a good joke,” thought Dawkins, chuckling to himself; “Mr.
+Danforth must be immensely flattered at having a sexton's adopted son
+taken for his.”
+
+After a final word or two on business matters, and arrangements for
+another interview, the visitor departed, and Mr. Danforth, now at
+leisure, turned to Paul.
+
+“Now my lad,” he said kindly, “if you will follow me, we shall have a
+chance to talk a little.”
+
+Paul followed the merchant into his office, the door of which was
+closed, much to the regret of Dawkins, who had a tolerably large share
+of curiosity, and was very anxious to find out what business Paul could
+possibly have with his employer.
+
+“Take that seat, if you please;” said Mr. Danforth, motioning Paul to
+an arm-chair, and sitting down himself, “Mrs. Danforth told me from how
+great a peril you rescued her. You are a brave boy.”
+
+“I don't know,” said Paul, modestly, “I didn't think of the danger. If I
+had, perhaps I should have hesitated.”
+
+“If you had not been brave you would have thought of your own risk. My
+wife and myself are under very great obligations to you.”
+
+“That more than repays me for all I did,” said Paul, in a tone of
+mingled modesty and manliness.
+
+“I like the boy,” thought Mr. Danforth; “he is certainly quite superior
+to the common run.”
+
+“Have you left school?” he inquired, after a pause.
+
+“Yes, sir. Last term closed my school life.”
+
+“Then you have never been in a situation.”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“Indeed! Before you left school?”
+
+“No, sir, since.”
+
+“You did not like it, then?”
+
+“No, sir,” said Paul.
+
+“And was that the reason of your leaving?”
+
+“No, sir; my employer was not satisfied with me,” said Paul, frankly.
+
+“Indeed! I am surprised to hear this! If you have no objection, will you
+tell me the circumstances?”
+
+Paul related in a straightforward manner the difficulty he had had with
+Smith & Thompson.
+
+“I hope you don't think I did wrong,” he concluded.
+
+“By no means,” said Mr. Danforth, warmly. “Your conduct was entirely
+creditable. As for Smith, I know of him. He is a sharper. It would have
+done you no good to remain in his employ.”
+
+Paul was pleased with this commendation. He had thought it possible that
+his dismissal from his former situation might operate against him with
+the merchant.
+
+“What are your present plans and wishes?” asked Mr. Danforth, after a
+slight pause.
+
+“I should like to enter a merchant's counting-room,” said Paul, “but as
+such places are hard to get, I think I shall try to get into a store.”
+
+Mr. Danforth reflected a moment, then placing a piece of paper before
+our hero, he said, “Will you write your name and address on this piece
+of paper, that I may know where to find you, in case I hear of a place?”
+
+Paul did as directed. He had an excellent handwriting, a point on which
+the merchant set a high value.
+
+The latter surveyed the address with approval, and said, “I am glad you
+write so excellent a hand. It will be of material assistance to you in
+securing a place in a counting-room. Indeed, it has been already, for I
+have just thought of a place which I can obtain for you.”
+
+“Can you, sir?” said Paul, eagerly.
+
+“Where is it?”
+
+“In my own counting-room,” said Mr. Danforth, smiling.
+
+“I am very much obliged to you,” said Paul, hardly believing his ears.
+
+“I was prepared to give it to you when you came in, in case I found you
+qualified. The superiority of your handwriting decides me. When can you
+come?”
+
+“To-morrow, if you like, sir.”
+
+“I like your promptness. As it is the middle of the week, however, you
+may take a vacation till Monday. Your salary will begin to-morrow.”
+
+“Thank you, sir.”
+
+“I will give you five dollars per week at first, and more as your
+services become more valuable. Will that be satisfactory?”
+
+“I shall feel rich, sir. Mr. Smith only gave me a dollar and a quarter.”
+
+“I hope you will find other differences between me and Mr. Smith,” said
+the merchant, smiling.
+
+These preliminaries over, Mr. Danforth opened the door, and glancing
+at Dawkins, said, “Dawkins, I wish you to become acquainted with your
+fellow clerk, Paul Prescott.”
+
+Dawkins looked surprised, and anything but gratified as he responded
+stiffly, “I have the honor of being already acquainted with Mr.
+Prescott.”
+
+“He is a little jealous of an interloper,” thought Mr. Danforth,
+noticing the repellent manner of young Dawkins. “Never mind, they will
+get acquainted after awhile.”
+
+When George Dawkins went home to dinner, his father observed the
+dissatisfied look he wore.
+
+“Is anything amiss, my son?” he inquired.
+
+“I should think there was,” grumbled his son.
+
+“What is it?”
+
+“We've got a new clerk, and who do you think it is?”
+
+“Who is it?”
+
+“The adopted son of old Cameron, the sexton.”
+
+“Indeed,” said Mrs. Dawkins. “I really wonder at Mr. Danforth's bad
+taste. There are many boys of genteel family, who would have been glad
+of the chance. This boy is a low fellow of course.”
+
+“Certainly,” said her son, though he was quite aware that this was not
+true.
+
+“What could have brought the boy to Danforth's notice?” asked Dawkins,
+senior.
+
+“I don't know, I'm sure. The boy has managed to get round him in some
+way. He is very artful.”
+
+“I really think, husband, that you ought to remonstrate with Mr.
+Danforth about taking such a low fellow into his counting-room with our
+George.”
+
+“Pooh!” said Mr. Dawkins, who was a shade more sensible than his wife,
+“he'd think me a meddler.”
+
+“At any rate, George,” pursued his mother, “there's one thing that is
+due to your family and bringing up,--not to associate with this low
+fellow any more than business requires.”
+
+“I certainly shall not,” said George, promptly.
+
+He was the worthy son of such a mother.
+
+
+
+
+XXVI.
+
+A VULGAR RELATION.
+
+
+At the end of the first week, Paul received five dollars, the sum which
+the merchant had agreed to pay him for his services. With this he felt
+very rich. He hurried home, and displayed to the sexton the crisp bank
+note which had been given him.
+
+“You will soon be a rich man, Paul,” said Mr. Cameron, with a benevolent
+smile, returning the bill.
+
+“But I want you to keep it, Uncle Hugh.”
+
+“Shall I put it in the Savings Bank, for you, Paul?”
+
+“I didn't mean that. You have been supporting me--giving me board and
+clothes--for three years. It is only right that you should have what I
+earn.”
+
+“The offer is an honorable one on your part, Paul,” said the sexton;
+“but I don't need it. If it will please you, I will take two dollars
+a week for your board, now, and out of the balance you may clothe
+yourself, and save what you can.”
+
+This arrangement seemed to be a fair one. Mr. Cameron deposited the five
+dollar note in his pocket-book, and passed one of three dollars to Paul.
+This sum our hero deposited the next Monday morning, in a savings bank.
+He estimated that he could clothe himself comfortably for fifty dollars
+a year. This would leave him one hundred towards the payment of the debt
+due to Squire Conant.
+
+“By-and-by my salary will be raised,” thought Paul. “Then I can save
+more.”
+
+He looked forward with eager anticipation to the time when he should be
+able to redeem his father's name, and no one would be entitled to cast
+reproach upon his memory.
+
+He endeavored to perform his duties faithfully in the office, and to
+learn as rapidly as he could the business upon which he had entered.
+He soon found that he must depend mainly upon himself. George Dawkins
+seemed disposed to afford him no assistance, but repelled scornfully
+the advances which Paul made towards cordiality. He was by no means as
+faithful as Paul, but whenever Mr. Danforth was absent from the office,
+spent his time in lounging at the window, or reading a cheap novel, with
+one of which he was usually provided.
+
+When Paul became satisfied that Dawkins was not inclined to accept his
+overtures, he ceased to court his acquaintance, and confined himself to
+his own desk.
+
+One day as he was returning from dinner, he was startled by an
+unceremonious slap upon the shoulder.
+
+Looking up in some surprise, he found that this greeting had come from a
+man just behind him, whose good-humored face and small, twinkling eyes,
+he at once recognized.
+
+“How do you do, Mr. Stubbs?” inquired Paul, his face lighting up with
+pleasure.
+
+“I'm so's to be round. How be you?” returned the worthy pedler, seizing
+our hero's hand and shaking it heartily.
+
+Mr. Stubbs was attired in all the glory of a blue coat with brass
+buttons and swallow tails.
+
+“When did you come to New York?” asked Paul.
+
+“Just arrived; that is, I got in this mornin'. But I say, how you've
+grown. I shouldn't hardly have known you.”
+
+“Shouldn't you, though?” said Paul, gratified as most boys are, on being
+told that he had grown. “Have you come to the city on business?”
+
+“Well, kinder on business, and kinder not. I thought I'd like to have a
+vacation. Besides, the old lady wanted a silk dress, and she was sot on
+havin' it bought in York. So I come to the city.”
+
+“Where are you stopping, Mr. Stubbs?”
+
+“Over to the Astor House. Pretty big hotel, ain't it?”
+
+“Yes, I see you are traveling in style.”
+
+“Yes, I suppose they charge considerable, but I guess I can stand it. I
+hain't been drivin' a tin-cart for nothin' the last ten years.
+
+“How have you been enjoying yourself since you arrived?”
+
+“Oh, pretty well. I've been round seeing the lions, and came pretty near
+seeing the elephant at one of them Peter Funk places.”
+
+“You did! Tell me about it.”
+
+“You see I was walkin' along when a fellow came out of one of them
+places, and asked me if I wouldn't go in. I didn't want to refuse such
+a polite invitation, and besides I had a curiosity to see what there was
+to be seen, so I went in. They put up a silver watch, I could see that
+it was a good one, and so I bid on it. It ran up to eight dollars and
+a quarter. I thought it was a pity it should go off so cheap, so I bid
+eight and a half.”
+
+“'Eight and a half and sold,' said the man; 'shall I put it up for you?”
+
+“'No, I thank you,' said I, 'I'll take it as it is.'
+
+“'But I'll put it up in a nice box for you,' said he.
+
+“I told him I didn't care for the box. He seemed very unwilling to let
+it go, but I took it out of his hand and he couldn't help himself. Well,
+when they made out the bill, what do you suppose they charged?”
+
+“I don't know.”
+
+“Why, eighteen and a half.”
+
+“'Look here,' said I, 'I guess here's something of a mistake. You've got
+ten dollars too much.'
+
+“'I think you must be mistaken,' said he, smiling a foxy smile.
+
+“'You know I am not,' said I, rather cross.
+
+“We can't let that watch go for any thing shorter,' said he, coolly.
+
+“Just then a man that was present stepped up and said, 'the man is
+right; don't attempt to impose upon him.'
+
+“With that he calmed right down. It seems it was a policeman who was
+sent to watch them, that spoke. So I paid the money, but as I went out
+I heard the auctioneer say that the sale was closed for the day. I
+afterwards learned that if I had allowed them to put the watch in a box,
+they would have exchanged it for another that was only plated.”
+
+“Do you know anybody in the city?” asked Paul.
+
+“I've got some relations, but I don't know where they live.”
+
+“What is the name?” asked Paul, “we can look into the directory.”
+
+“The name is Dawkins,” answered the pedler.
+
+“Dawkins!” repeated Paul, in surprise.
+
+“Yes, do you happen to know anybody of the name?”
+
+“Yes, but I believe it is a rich family.”
+
+“Well, so are my relations,” said Jehoshaphat. “You didn't think
+Jehoshaphat Stubbs had any rich relations, did you? These, as I've heard
+tell, hold their heads as high as anybody.”
+
+“Perhaps I may be mistaken,” said Paul.
+
+“What is the name--the Christian name, I mean--of your relation?”
+
+“George.”
+
+“It must be he, then. There is a boy of about my own age of that name.
+He works in the same office.”
+
+“You don't say so! Well, that is curious, I declare. To think that I
+should have happened to hit upon you so by accident too.”
+
+“How are you related to them?” inquired Paul.
+
+“Why, you see, I'm own cousin to Mr. Dawkins. His father and my mother
+were brother and sister.”
+
+“What was his father's business?” asked Paul.
+
+“I don't know what his regular business was, but he was a sexton in some
+church.”
+
+This tallied with the account Paul had received from Mr. Cameron, and
+he could no longer doubt that, strange as it seemed, the wealthy Mr.
+Dawkins was own cousin to the pedler.
+
+“Didn't you say the boy was in the same office with you, Paul?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Well, I've a great mind to go and see him, and find out where his
+father lives. Perhaps I may get an invite to his house.”
+
+“How shocked Dawkins will be!” thought Paul, not, it must be confessed,
+without a feeling of amusement. He felt no compunction in being the
+instrument of mortifying the false pride of his fellow clerk, and
+he accordingly signified to Mr. Stubbs that he was on his way to the
+counting-room.
+
+“Are you, though? Well, I guess I'll go along with you. Is it far off?”
+
+“Only in the next street.”
+
+The pedler, it must be acknowledged, had a thoroughly countrified
+appearance. He was a genuine specimen of the Yankee,--a long, gaunt
+figure, somewhat stooping, and with a long aquiline nose. His dress has
+already been described.
+
+As Dawkins beheld him entering with Paul, he turned up his nose in
+disgust at what he considered Paul's friend.
+
+What was his consternation when the visitor, approaching him with
+a benignant smile, extended his brown hand, and said, “How d'ye do,
+George? How are ye all to hum?”
+
+Dawkins drew back haughtily.
+
+“What do you mean?” he said, pale with passion.
+
+“Mr. Dawkins,” said Paul, with suppressed merriment, “allow me to
+introduce your cousin, Mr. Stubbs.”
+
+“Jehoshaphat Stubbs,” explained that individual. “Didn't your father
+never mention my name to you?”
+
+“Sir,” said Dawkins, darting a furious glance at Paul, “you are entirely
+mistaken if you suppose that any relationship exists between me and
+that--person.”
+
+“No, it's you that are mistaken,” said Mr. Stubbs, persevering, “My
+mother was Roxana Jane Dawkins. She was own sister to your grandfather.
+That makes me and your father cousins Don't you see?”
+
+“I see that you are intending to insult me,” said Dawkins, the more
+furiously, because he began to fear there might be some truth in the
+man's claims. “Mr. Prescott, I leave you to entertain your company
+yourself.”
+
+And he threw on his hat and dashed out of the counting-room.
+
+“Well,” said the pedler, drawing a long breath, “that's cool,--denyin'
+his own flesh and blood. Rather stuck up, ain't he?”
+
+“He is, somewhat,” said Paul; “if I were you, I shouldn't be disposed to
+own him as a relation.”
+
+“Darned ef I will!” said Jehoshaphat sturdily; “I have some pride, ef I
+am a pedler. Guess I'm as good as he, any day.”
+
+
+
+
+XXVII.
+
+MR. MUDGE'S FRIGHT.
+
+
+Squire Newcome sat in a high-backed chair before the fire with his heels
+on the fender. He was engaged in solemnly perusing the leading editorial
+in the evening paper, when all at once the table at his side gave a
+sudden lurch, the lamp slid into his lap, setting the paper on fire,
+and, before the Squire realized his situation, the flames singed his
+whiskers, and made his face unpleasantly warm.
+
+“Cre-a-tion!” he exclaimed, jumping briskly to his feet.
+
+The lamp had gone out, so that the cause of the accident remained
+involved in mystery. The Squire had little trouble in conjecturing,
+however, that Ben was at the bottom of it.
+
+Opening the door hastily, he saw, by the light in the next room, that
+young gentleman rising from his knees in the immediate vicinity of the
+table.
+
+“Ben-ja-min,” said the Squire, sternly,
+
+“What have you been a-doing?”
+
+Ben looked sheepish, but said nothing.
+
+“I repeat, Benjamin, what have you been a-doing?”
+
+“I didn't mean to,” said Ben.
+
+“That does not answer my interrogatory. What have you been a-doing?”
+
+“I was chasing the cat,” said Ben, “and she got under the table. I
+went after her, and somehow it upset. Guess my head might have knocked
+against the legs.”
+
+“How old are you, Benjamin?”
+
+“Fifteen.”
+
+“A boy of fifteen is too old to play with cats. You may retire to your
+dormitory.”
+
+“It's only seven o'clock, father,” said Ben, in dismay.
+
+“Boys that play with cats are young enough to retire at seven,” remarked
+the Squire, sagaciously.
+
+There was nothing for Ben but to obey.
+
+Accordingly with reluctant steps he went up to his chamber and went
+to bed. His active mind, together with the early hour, prevented his
+sleeping. Instead, his fertile imagination was employed in devising
+some new scheme, in which, of course, fun was to be the object attained.
+While he was thinking, one scheme flashed upon him which he at once
+pronounced “bully.”
+
+“I wish I could do it to-night,” he sighed.
+
+“Why can't I?” he thought, after a moment's reflection.
+
+The more he thought of it, the more feasible it seemed, and at length he
+decided to attempt it.
+
+Rising from his bed he quickly dressed himself, and then carefully took
+the sheet, and folding it up in small compass put it under his arm.
+
+Next, opening the window, he stepped out upon the sloping roof of the
+ell part, and slid down to the end where he jumped off, the height not
+being more than four feet from the ground. By some accident, a tub of
+suds was standing under the eaves, and Ben, much to his disgust, jumped
+into it.
+
+“Whew!” exclaimed he, “I've jumped into that plaguy tub. What possessed
+Hannah to put it in a fellow's way?”
+
+At this moment the back door opened, and Hannah called out, in a shrill
+voice, “Who's there?” Ben hastily hid himself, and thought it best not
+to answer.
+
+“I guess 'twas the cat,” said Hannah, as she closed the door.
+
+“A two-legged cat,” thought Ben, to himself; “thunder, what sopping wet
+feet I've got. Well, it can't be helped.”
+
+With the sheet still under his arm, Ben climbed a fence and running
+across the fields reached the fork of the road. Here he concealed
+himself under a hedge, and waited silently till the opportunity for
+playing his practical joke arrived.
+
+I regret to say that Mr. Mudge, with whom we have already had
+considerable to do, was not a member of the temperance society.
+Latterly, influenced perhaps by Mrs. Mudge's tongue, which made his home
+far from a happy one, he had got into the habit of spending his
+evenings at the tavern in the village, where he occasionally indulged
+in potations that were not good for him. Generally, he kept within the
+bounds of moderation, but occasionally he exceeded these, as he had done
+on the present occasion.
+
+Some fifteen minutes after Ben had taken his station, he saw, in the
+moonlight, Mr. Mudge coming up the road, on his way home. Judging from
+his zigzag course, he was not quite himself.
+
+Ben waited till Mr. Mudge was close at hand, when all at once he started
+from his place of concealment completely enveloped in the sheet with
+which he was provided. He stood motionless before the astounded Mudge.
+
+“Who are you?” exclaimed Mudge, his knees knocking together in terror,
+clinging to an overhanging branch for support.
+
+There was no answer.
+
+“Who are you?” he again asked in affright.
+
+“Sally Baker,” returned Ben, in as sepulchral a voice as he could
+command.
+
+Sally Baker was an old pauper, who had recently died. The name occurred
+to Ben on the spur of the moment. It was with some difficulty that he
+succeeded in getting out the name, such was his amusement at Mr. Mudge's
+evident terror.
+
+“What do you want of me?” inquired Mudge, nervously.
+
+“You half starved me when I was alive,” returned Ben, in a hollow voice,
+“I must be revenged.”
+
+So saying he took one step forward, spreading out his arms. This was too
+much for Mr. Mudge. With a cry he started and ran towards home at the
+top of his speed, with Ben in pursuit.
+
+“I believe I shall die of laughing,” exclaimed Ben, pausing out of
+breath, and sitting down on a stone, “what a donkey he is, to be sure,
+to think there are such things as ghosts. I'd like to be by when he
+tells Mrs. Mudge.”
+
+After a moment's thought, Ben wrapped up the sheet, took it under his
+arm, and once more ran in pursuit of Mr. Mudge.
+
+Meanwhile Mrs. Mudge was sitting in the kitchen of the Poorhouse,
+mending stockings. She was not in the pleasantest humor, for one of the
+paupers had managed to break a plate at tea-table (if that can be called
+tea where no tea is provided), and trifles were sufficient to ruffle
+Mrs. Mudge's temper.
+
+“Where's Mudge, I wonder?” she said, sharply; “over to the tavern, I
+s'pose, as usual. There never was such a shiftless, good-for-nothing
+man. I'd better have stayed unmarried all the days of my life than have
+married him. If he don't get in by ten, I'll lock the door, and it shall
+stay locked. 'Twill serve him right to stay out doors all night.”
+
+Minutes slipped away, and the decisive hour approached.
+
+“I'll go to the door and look out,” thought Mrs. Mudge, “if he ain't
+anywhere in sight I'll fasten the door.”
+
+She laid down her work and went to the door.
+
+She had not quite reached it when it was flung open violently, and Mr.
+Mudge, with a wild, disordered look, rushed in, nearly overturning his
+wife, who gazed at him with mingled anger and astonishment.
+
+“What do you mean by this foolery, Mudge?” she demanded, sternly.
+
+“What do I mean?” repeated her husband, vaguely.
+
+“I needn't ask you,” said his wife, contemptuously. “I see how it is,
+well enough. You're drunk!”
+
+“Drunk!”
+
+“Yes, drunk; as drunk as a beast.”
+
+“Well, Mrs. Mudge,” hiccoughed her husband, in what he endeavored to
+make a dignified tone, “you'd be drunk too if you'd seen what I've
+seen.”
+
+“And what have you seen, I should like to know?” said Mrs. Mudge.
+
+Mudge rose with some difficulty, steadied himself on his feet, and
+approaching his wife, whispered in a tragic tone, “Mrs. Mudge, I've seen
+a sperrit.”
+
+“It's plain enough that you've seen spirit,” retorted his wife. “'Tisn't
+many nights that you don't, for that matter. You ought to be ashamed of
+yourself, Mudge.”
+
+“It isn't that,” said her husband, shaking his hand, “it's a sperrit,--a
+ghost, that I've seen.”
+
+“Indeed!” said Mrs. Mudge, sarcastically, “perhaps you can tell whose it
+is.”
+
+“It was the sperrit of Sally Baker,” said Mudge, solemnly.
+
+“What did she say?” demanded Mrs. Mudge, a little curiously.
+
+“She said that I--that we, half starved her, and then she started to run
+after me--and--oh, Lordy, there she is now!”
+
+Mudge jumped trembling to his feet. Following the direction of his
+outstretched finger, Mrs. Mudge caught a glimpse of a white figure
+just before the window. I need hardly say that it was Ben, who had just
+arrived upon the scene.
+
+Mrs. Mudge was at first stupefied by what she saw, but being a woman
+of courage she speedily recovered herself, and seizing the broom
+from behind the door, darted out in search of the “spirit.” But Ben,
+perceiving that he was discovered, had disappeared, and there was
+nothing to be seen.
+
+“Didn't I tell you so?” muttered Mudge, as his wife re-entered, baffled
+in her attempt, “you'll believe it's a sperrit, now.”
+
+“Go to bed, you fool!” retorted his wife.
+
+This was all that passed between Mr. and Mrs. Mudge on the subject. Mr.
+Mudge firmly believes, to this day, that the figure which appeared to
+him was the spirit of Sally Baker.
+
+
+
+
+XXVIII.
+
+HOW BEN GOT HOME.
+
+
+Delighted with the complete success of his practical joke, Ben took his
+way homeward with the sheet under his arm. By the time he reached his
+father's house it was ten o'clock. The question for Ben to consider now
+was, how to get in. If his father had not fastened the front door he
+might steal in, and slip up stairs on tiptoe without being heard.
+This would be the easiest way of overcoming the difficulty, and Ben,
+perceiving that the light was still burning in the sitting-room, had
+some hopes that he would be able to adopt it. But while he was only
+a couple of rods distant he saw the lamp taken up by his father, who
+appeared to be moving from the room.
+
+“He's going to lock the front door,” thought Ben, in disappointment; “if
+I had only got along five minutes sooner.”
+
+From his post outside he heard the key turn in the lock.
+
+The 'Squire little dreamed that the son whom he imagined fast asleep in
+his room was just outside the door he was locking.
+
+“I guess I'll go round to the back part of the house,” thought Ben,
+“perhaps I can get in the same way I came out.”
+
+Accordingly he went round and managed to clamber upon the roof, which
+was only four feet from the ground. But a brief trial served to convince
+our young adventurer that it is a good deal easier sliding down a roof
+than it is climbing up. The shingles being old were slippery, and though
+the ascent was not steep, Ben found the progress he made was very much
+like that of a man at the bottom of a well, who is reported as falling
+back two feet for every three that he ascended. What increased the
+difficulty of his attempt was that the soles of his shoes were well
+worn, and slippery as well as the shingles.
+
+“I never can get up this way,” Ben concluded, after several fruitless
+attempts; “I know what I'll do,” he decided, after a moment's
+perplexity; “I'll pull off my shoes and stockings, and then I guess I
+can get along better.”
+
+Ben accordingly got down from the roof, and pulled off his shoes and
+stockings. As he wanted to carry these with him, he was at first
+a little puzzled by this new difficulty. He finally tied the shoes
+together by the strings and hung them round his neck. He disposed of the
+stockings by stuffing one in each pocket.
+
+“Now,” thought Ben, “I guess I can get along better. I don't know what
+to do with the plaguy sheet, though.”
+
+But necessity is the mother of invention, and Ben found that he could
+throw the sheet over his shoulders, as a lady does with her shawl. Thus
+accoutered he recommenced the ascent with considerable confidence.
+
+He found that his bare feet clung to the roof more tenaciously than
+the shoes had done, and success was already within his grasp, when an
+unforeseen mishap frustrated his plans. He had accomplished about three
+quarters of the ascent when all at once the string which united the
+shoes which he had hung round his neck gave way, and both fell with a
+great thump on the roof. Ben made a clutch for them in which he lost his
+own hold, and made a hurried descent in their company, alighting with
+his bare feet on some flinty gravel stones, which he found by no means
+agreeable.
+
+“Ow!” ejaculated Ben, limping painfully, “them plaguy gravel stones
+hurt like thunder. I'll move 'em away the first thing to-morrow. If that
+confounded shoe-string hadn't broken I'd have been in bed by this time.”
+
+Meanwhile Hannah had been sitting over the kitchen fire enjoying a
+social chat with a “cousin” of hers from Ireland, a young man whom
+she had never seen or heard of three months before. In what way he had
+succeeded in convincing her of the relationship I have never been able
+to learn, but he had managed to place himself on familiar visiting terms
+with the inmate of 'Squire Newcome's kitchen.
+
+“It's only me cousin, sir,” Hannah explained to the 'Squire, when he
+had questioned her on the subject; “he's just from Ireland, sir, and it
+seems like home to see him.”
+
+On the present occasion Tim Flaherty had outstayed his usual time, and
+was still in the kitchen when Ben reached home. They did not at first
+hear him, but when he made his last abortive attempt, and the shoes came
+clattering down, they could not help hearing.
+
+“What's that?” asked Hannah, listening attentively.
+
+She went to the door to look out, her cousin following.
+
+There was nothing to be seen.
+
+“Perhaps you was dramin' Hannah,” said Tim, “more by token, it's time we
+was both doin' that same, so I'll bid you good-night.”
+
+“Come again soon, Tim,” said Hannah, preparing to close the door.
+
+A new plan of entrance flashed upon Ben.
+
+He quickly put on his shoes and stockings, unfolded the sheet and
+prepared to enact the part of a ghost once more,--this time for the
+special benefit of Hannah.
+
+After fully attiring himself he came to the back door which Hannah had
+already locked, and tapped three times.
+
+Hannah was engaged in raking out the kitchen fire.
+
+“Sure it's Tim come back,” thought she, as she went to the door.
+“Perhaps he's forgotten something.”
+
+She opened the door unsuspiciously, fully expecting to see her Irish
+cousin standing before her.
+
+What was her terror on beholding a white-robed figure, with extended
+arms.
+
+“Howly virgin, defend me!” she exclaimed, in paralyzing terror, which
+was increased by a guttural sound which proceeded from the throat of
+the ghost, who at the same time waved his arms aloft, and made a step
+towards Hannah.
+
+Hannah, with a wild howl dropped the lamp and fed towards the
+sitting-room, where 'Squire Newcome was still sitting.
+
+Ben sped upstairs at the top of his speed, dashed into his own chamber,
+spread the sheet on the bed, and undressed so rapidly that he seemed
+only to shake his clothes off, and jumped into bed. He closed his eyes
+and appeared to be in a profound slumber.
+
+Hannah's sudden appearance in the sitting-room in such a state naturally
+astonished the 'Squire.
+
+“What's the matter?” he demanded of the affrighted servant.
+
+“Oh, sir,” she gasped, “I'm almost kilt entirely.”
+
+“Are you?” said the 'Squire, “you appear to be more frightened than
+hurt.”
+
+“Yes, sir, shure I am frightened, which indeed I couldn't help it, sir,
+for I never saw a ghost before in all my life.”
+
+“A ghost! What nonsense are you talking, Hannah?”
+
+“Shure it's not nonsense, for it's just now that the ghost came to the
+door, sir, and knocked, and I went to the door thinking it might be me
+cousin, who's been passing the evening with me, when I saw a great white
+ghost, ten foot tall, standing forninst me.”
+
+“Ten feet tall?”
+
+“Yes, sir, and he spread out his arms and spoke in a terrible voice, and
+was going to carry me off wid him, but I dropped the lamp, and O sir,
+I'm kilt entirely.”
+
+“This is a strange story,” said 'Squire Newcome, rather suspiciously; “I
+hope you have not been drinking.”
+
+Hannah protested vehemently that not a drop of liquor had passed her
+lips, which was true.
+
+“I'll go out and hunt for the ghost,” said the 'Squire.
+
+“Oh, don't sir. He'll carry you off,” said Hannah, terrified.
+
+“Nonsense!” exclaimed the 'Squire. “Follow me, or you may stay here if
+you are frightened.”
+
+This Hannah would by no means do, since the 'Squire had taken the lamp
+and she would be left in the dark.
+
+Accordingly she followed him with a trembling step, as he penetrated
+through the kitchen into the back room, ready to run at the least alarm.
+
+The back-door was wide open, but nothing was to be seen of the ghost.
+
+“Perhaps the ghost's up-stairs,” said Hannah, “I can't sleep up there
+this night, shure.”
+
+But something had attracted Squire Newcome's attention. It was quite
+muddy out of doors, and Ben had tracked in considerable mud with him.
+The footprints were very perceptible on the painted floor.
+
+“The ghost seems to have had muddy shoes,” said the 'Squire dryly; “I
+guess I can find him.”
+
+He followed the tracks which witnessed so strongly against Ben, to whose
+chamber they led.
+
+Ben, though still awake, appeared to be in a profound slumber.
+
+“Ben-ja-min!” said his father, stooping over the bed.
+
+There was no answer.
+
+“Ben-ja-min!” repeated his father, giving him a shake, “what does all
+this mean?”
+
+“What?” inquired Ben, opening his eyes, and looking very innocent.
+
+“Where have you been, to-night?”
+
+“You sent me to bed,” said Ben, “and I came.”
+
+But the 'Squire was not to be deceived. He was already in possession
+of too much information to be put off. So Ben, who with all his love
+of mischief was a boy of truth, finally owned up everything. His father
+said very little, but told him the next morning that he had made up his
+mind to send him to a military boarding-school, where the discipline was
+very strict. Ben hardly knew whether to be glad or sorry, but finally,
+as boys like change and variety, came to look upon his new prospects
+with considerable cheerfulness.
+
+
+
+
+XXIX.
+
+DAWKINS IN DIFFICULTIES.
+
+
+George Dawkins was standing at his desk one morning, when a man entered
+the office, and stepping up to him, unceremoniously tapped him on the
+shoulder.
+
+Dawkins turned. He looked extremely annoyed on perceiving his visitor,
+whose outward appearance was certainly far from prepossessing. His face
+exhibited unmistakable marks of dissipation, nor did the huge breast
+pin and other cheap finery which he wore conceal the fact of his intense
+vulgarity. His eyes were black and twinkling, his complexion very dark,
+and his air that of a foreigner. He was, in fact, a Frenchman, though
+his language would hardly have betrayed him, unless, as sometimes, he
+chose to interlard his discourse with French phrases.
+
+“How are you this morning, my friend?” said the newcomer.
+
+“What are you here for?” asked Dawkins, roughly.
+
+“That does not seem to me a very polite way of receiving your friends.”
+
+“Friends!” retorted Dawkins, scornfully, “who authorized you to call
+yourself my friend?”
+
+“Creditor, then, if it will suit you better, mon ami.”
+
+“Hush,” said Dawkins, in an alarmed whisper, “he will hear,” here he
+indicated Paul with his finger.
+
+“And why should I care? I have no secrets from the young man.”
+
+“Stop, Duval,” exclaimed Dawkins, in an angry whisper, “Leave the office
+at once. Your appearing here will injure me.”
+
+“But I am not your friend; why should I care?” sneered Duval.
+
+“Listen to reason. Leave me now, and I will meet you when and where you
+will.”
+
+“Come, that sounds better.”
+
+“Now go. I'm afraid Mr. Danforth will be in.”
+
+“If he comes, introduce me.”
+
+Dawkins would like to have knocked the fellow over.
+
+“Name your place and time, and be quick about it,” said he impatiently.
+
+“Eight o'clock this evening, you know where,” was the answer.
+
+“Very well. Good-morning.”
+
+“Mind you bring some money.”
+
+“Good-morning,” returned Dawkins, angrily.
+
+At length, much to his relief, Duval left the office. Dawkins stole a
+side glance at Paul, to see what impression the interview had made upon
+him, but our hero, who had overheard some portions of the dialogue,
+perceiving that Dawkins wished it to be private, took as little notice
+of the visitor as possible. He could not help thinking, however, that
+Duval was a man whose acquaintance was likely to be of little benefit to
+his fellow clerk.
+
+Throughout the day Dawkins appeared unusually nervous, and made several
+blunders which annoyed Mr. Danforth. Evidently he had something on his
+mind. Not to keep the reader in suspense, George had fallen among bad
+companions, where he had learned both to drink and to gamble. In this
+way he had made the acquaintance of Duval, an unscrupulous sharper, who
+had contrived to get away all his ready money, and persuading him to
+play longer in the hope of making up his losses had run him into debt
+one hundred and fifty dollars. Dawkins gave him an acknowledgment of
+indebtedness to that amount. This of course placed him in Duval's power,
+since he knew of no means of raising such a sum. He therefore kept out
+of the Frenchman's way, avoiding the old haunts where he would have been
+likely to meet him. Dawkins supposed Duval ignorant of the whereabouts
+of his employer's counting-room. So he had been, but he made it his
+business to ascertain where it was. He had no idea of losing sight of so
+valuable a prize.
+
+Dawkins would willingly have broken the appointment he had made with
+Duval, but he did not dare to do so. He knew that the man was well
+able to annoy him, and he would not on any account have had the affair
+disclosed to his father or Mr. Danforth.
+
+As Trinity clock struck eight, he entered a low bar-room in the
+neighborhood of the docks.
+
+A young man with pale, sandy hair stood behind the counter with his
+sleeves rolled up. He was supplying the wants of a sailor who already
+appeared to have taken more drink than was good for him.
+
+“Good evening, Mr. Dawkins,” said he, “you're a stranger.”
+
+“Is Duval in?” inquired Dawkins, coldly. His pride revolted at the place
+and company. He had never been here but once before, having met Duval
+elsewhere.
+
+“He's up in his room. John show the young gentleman up to No. 9. Won't
+you have a glass of something this evening?”
+
+“No,” said Dawkins, abruptly.
+
+The boy preceded him up a dark and dirty staircase.
+
+“That's the room, sir,” he said.
+
+“Stop a minute,” said Dawkins, “he may not be in.”
+
+He inwardly hoped he might not. But Duval answered his knock by coming
+to the door himself.
+
+“Delighted to see you, mon ami. John, may leave the lamp. That's all,
+unless Mr. Dawkins wishes to order something.”
+
+“I want nothing,” said Dawkins.
+
+“They have some capital brandy.”
+
+“I am not in the mood for drinking tonight.”
+
+“As you please,” said the Frenchman, disappointed; “be seated.”
+
+Dawkins sat down in a wooden rocking-chair, minus an arm.
+
+“Well,” said Duval, “how much money have you brought me?”
+
+“None.”
+
+The Frenchman frowned and stroked his mustache, fiercely.
+
+“What does all this mean? Are you going to put me off longer?”
+
+“I would pay it if I could,” said Dawkins, “but I haven't got the
+money.”
+
+“You could get it.”
+
+“How?”
+
+“Ask your father.”
+
+“My father would rave if he knew that I had lost money in such a way.”
+
+“But you need not tell him.”
+
+“If I ask for money, he will be sure to ask what I want it for.”
+
+“Tell him you want clothes, or a watch, or a hundred things.”
+
+Dawkins shook his head; “it won't do,” said he. “He wouldn't give me a
+hundred and fifty dollars.”
+
+“Then ask seventy-five, and I will wait a month for the rest.”
+
+“Look here, Duval, you have no rightful claim to this money. You've got
+enough out of me. Just tear up the paper.”
+
+Duval laughed scornfully, “Aha, Mr. Dawkins,” he said, “that would be
+a very pretty arrangement FOR YOU. But I don't see how it is going to
+benefit me. No, no, I can't afford to throw away a hundred and fifty
+dollars so easily. If I was a rich man like your father it would make a
+difference.”
+
+“Then you won't remit the debt,” said Dawkins, sullenly.
+
+“You would think me a great ninny, if I did.”
+
+“Then you may collect it the best way you can.”
+
+“What do you mean by that?” demanded the Frenchman, his face darkening.
+
+“I mean what I say,” said Dawkins, desperately, “Gambling debts are not
+recognizable in law.”
+
+“Nothing is said about it's being a gambling debt. I have your note.”
+
+“Which is worth nothing, since I am a minor.”
+
+Duval's face became black with rage.
+
+“Aha, my friend,” said he showing his teeth, “this is a very nice game
+to cheat me out of my money. But it won't do, it won't do.”
+
+“Why won't it?”
+
+“I shall say a word in your father's ear, mon ami, and in the ear of
+your worthy employer whom you were so anxious for me not to see, and
+perhaps that would be worse for you than to pay me my money.”
+
+Dawkins's brief exultation passed away. He saw that he was indeed in the
+power of an unscrupulous man, who was disposed to push his advantage to
+the utmost.
+
+He subsided into a moody silence, which Duval watched with satisfaction.
+
+“Well, my friend, what will you do about it?”
+
+“I don't know what I can do.”
+
+“You will think of something. You will find it best,” said the
+Frenchman, in a tone which veiled a threat.
+
+“I will try,” said Dawkins, gloomily.
+
+“That is well. I thought you would listen to reason, mon ami. Now we
+will have a pleasant chat. Hold, I will order some brandy myself.”
+
+“Not for me,” said Dawkins, rising from his chair, “I must be going.”
+
+“Will you not have one little game?” asked Duval, coaxingly.
+
+“No, no, I have had enough of that. Goodnight.”
+
+“Then you won't stop. And when shall I have the pleasure of seeing you
+at my little apartment once more?”
+
+“I don't know.”
+
+“If it is any trouble to you to come, I will call at your office,” said
+Duval, significantly.
+
+“Don't trouble yourself,” said Dawkins, hastily; “I will come here a
+week from today.”
+
+“A week is a long time.”
+
+“Long or short, I must have it.”
+
+“Very well, mon ami. A week let it be. Good-night. Mind the stairs as
+you go down.”
+
+Dawkins breathed more freely as he passed out into the open air. He was
+beginning to realize that the way of the transgressor is hard.
+
+
+
+
+XXX.
+
+A TRAP IS LAID FOR PAUL.
+
+
+Three months before, George Dawkins had made his first visit to a
+gambling house. At first, he had entered only from curiosity. He watched
+the play with an interest which gradually deepened, until he was easily
+persuaded to try his own luck. The stakes were small, but fortune
+favored him, and he came out some dollars richer than he entered. It
+would have been fortunate for him if he had failed. As it was, his
+good fortune encouraged him to another visit. This time he was less
+fortunate, but his gains about balanced his losses, so that he came out
+even. On the next occasion he left off with empty pockets. So it went on
+until at length he fell into the hands of Duval, who had no scruple in
+fleecing him to as great an extent as he could be induced to go.
+
+George Dawkins's reflections were not of the most cheerful character as,
+leaving Duval, he slowly pursued his way homeward. He felt that he had
+fallen into the power of an unscrupulous villain, who would have no
+mercy upon him. He execrated his own folly, without which all the
+machination of Duval would have been without effect.
+
+The question now, however, was, to raise the money. He knew of no one
+to whom he could apply except his father, nor did he have much hope from
+that quarter. Still, he would make the effort.
+
+Reaching home he found his father seated in the library. He looked up
+from the evening paper as George entered.
+
+“Only half-past nine,” he said, with an air of sarcasm. “You spend your
+evenings out so systematically that your early return surprises me. How
+is it? Has the theater begun to lose its charm!”
+
+There was no great sympathy between father and son, and if either felt
+affection for the other, it was never manifested. Mutual recrimination
+was the rule between them, and George would now have made an angry
+answer but that he had a favor to ask, and felt it politic to be
+conciliatory.
+
+“If I had supposed you cared for my society, sir, I would have remained
+at home oftener.”
+
+“Umph!” was the only reply elicited from his father.
+
+“However, there was a good reason for my not going to the theater
+to-night.”
+
+“Indeed!”
+
+“I had no money.”
+
+“Your explanation is quite satisfactory,” said his father, with a slight
+sneer. “I sympathize in your disappointment.”
+
+“There is no occasion, sir,” said George, good humoredly, for him. “I
+had no great desire to go.”
+
+Dawkins took down a book from the library and tried to read, but
+without much success. His thoughts continually recurred to his pecuniary
+embarrassments, and the debt which he owed to Duval seemed to hang like
+a millstone around his neck. How should he approach his father on the
+subject? In his present humor he feared he would have little chance.
+
+As his father laid down the newspaper Dawkins said, “Wouldn't you like a
+game of checkers, sir?”
+
+This, as he well knew, was a favorite game with his father.
+
+“I don't know but I should,” said Mr. Dawkins, more graciously than was
+his wont.
+
+The checker-board was brought, and the two commenced playing. Three
+games were played all of which his father won. This appeared to put
+him in a good humor, for as the two ceased playing, he drew a
+ten-dollar-bill from his pocket-book, and handed to his son, with the
+remark, “There, George, I don't want you to be penniless. You are a
+little extravagant, though, I think. Your pay from Mr. Danforth ought to
+keep you in spending money.”
+
+“Yes, sir, I have been rather extravagant, but I am going to reform.”
+
+“I am very glad to hear it.”
+
+“I wish, sir,” said George a moment afterwards, “that you would allow me
+to buy my own clothes.”
+
+“I've no sort of an objection, I am sure. You select them now, don't
+you?”
+
+“Yes, sir, but I mean to suggest that you should make me an allowance
+for that purpose,--about as much as it costs now,--and give me the money
+to spend where I please.”
+
+Mr. Dawkins looked sharply at his son.
+
+“The result would probably be,” he said, “that the money would be
+expended in other ways, and I should have to pay for the clothes twice
+over.”
+
+Dawkins would have indignantly disclaimed this, if he had not felt that
+he was not altogether sincere in the request he had made.
+
+“No,” continued his father, “I don't like the arrangement you propose.
+When you need clothing you can go to my tailor and order it, of course
+not exceeding reasonable limits.”
+
+“But,” said Dawkins, desperately, “I don't like Bradshaw's style of
+making clothes. I would prefer trying some other tailor.”
+
+“What fault have you to find with Bradshaw? Is he not one of the most
+fashionable tailors in the city?”
+
+“Yes, sir, I suppose so, but----”
+
+“Come, sir, you are growing altogether too particular. All your garments
+set well, so far as I can judge.”
+
+“Yes, sir, but one likes a change sometimes,” persisted George, a little
+embarrassed for further objections.
+
+“Well,” said Mr. Dawkins, after a pause, “If you are so strongly bent
+upon a new tailor, select one, and order what you need. You can tell him
+to send in his bill to me.”
+
+“Thank you sir,” said his son, by no means pleased at the manner in
+which his request had been granted. He saw that it would in no manner
+promote the plan which he had in view, since it would give him no
+command of the ready money. It is hardly necessary to say that his
+alleged dissatisfaction with his father's tailor had all been trumped
+up for the occasion, and would never have been thought of but for the
+present emergency.
+
+“What shall I do!” thought Dawkins, in perplexity, as he slowly
+undressed himself and retired to bed.
+
+The only true course, undoubtedly, was to confess all to his father,
+to incur the storm of reproaches which would have followed as the just
+penalty of his transgression, and then the haunting fear of discovery
+would have been once and forever removed. But Dawkins was not brave
+enough for this. He thought only of escaping from his present difficulty
+without his father's knowledge.
+
+He rose the next morning with the burden of care still weighing upon
+him. In the evening the thought occurred to him that he might retrieve
+his losses where he had incurred them, and again he bent his steps to
+the gambling house. He risked five dollars, being one-half of what he
+had. This was lost. Desperately he hazarded the remaining five dollars,
+and lost again.
+
+With a muttered oath he sprang to his feet, and left the brilliant room,
+more gloomy and discouraged than ever. He was as badly off as before,
+and penniless beside. He would have finished the evening at the theater,
+but his recent loss prevented that. He lounged about the streets till it
+was time to go to bed, and then went home in a very unsatisfactory state
+of mind.
+
+A day or two after, he met on Broadway the man whom of all others he
+would gladly have avoided.
+
+“Aha, my friend, I am glad to meet you,” said Duval, for it was he.
+
+Dawkins muttered something unintelligible, and would have hurried on,
+but Duval detained him.
+
+“Why are you in such a hurry, my friend?” he said.
+
+“Business,” returned Dawkins, shortly.
+
+“That reminds me of the little business affair between us, mon ami. Have
+you got any money for me?”
+
+“Not yet.”
+
+“Not yet! It is three days since we saw each other. Could you not do
+something in three days?”
+
+“I told you I required a week,” said Dawkins, roughly, “Let go my arm. I
+tell you I am in haste.”
+
+“Very well, mon ami,” said Duval, slowly relinquishing his hold, “take
+care that you do not forget. There are four days more to the week.”
+
+Dawkins hurried on feeling very uncomfortable. He was quite aware that
+four days hence he would be as unprepared to encounter the Frenchman as
+now. Still, something might happen.
+
+Something, unfortunately, did happen.
+
+The next day Mr. Danforth was counting a roll of bills which had been
+just paid in, when he was unexpectedly called out of the counting-room.
+He unguardedly left the bills upon his own desk. Dawkins saw them lying
+there. The thought flashed upon him, “There lies what will relieve me
+from all my embarrassment.”
+
+Allowing himself scarcely a minute to think, he took from the roll four
+fifty dollar notes, thrust one into the pocket of Paul's overcoat, which
+hung up in the office, drew off his right boot and slipped the other
+three into the bottom of it, and put it on again. He then nervously
+resumed his place at his desk. A moment afterwards, Paul, who had been
+to the post-office, entered with letters which he carried into the inner
+office and deposited on Mr. Danforth's desk. He observed the roll
+of bills, and thought his employer careless in leaving so much money
+exposed, but said nothing on the subject to Dawkins, between whom and
+himself there was little communication.
+
+
+
+
+XXXI.
+
+CONVICTED OF THEFT.
+
+
+Half an hour later Mr. Danforth returned.
+
+“Has any one been here?” he asked as he passed through the outer office.
+
+“No, sir,” said Dawkins, with outward composure though his heart was
+beating rapidly.
+
+While apparently intent upon his writing he listened attentively to what
+might be going on in the next room. One,--two,--three minutes passed.
+Mr. Danforth again showed himself.
+
+“Did you say that no one has been here?” he demanded, abruptly.
+
+“No, sir.”
+
+“Have either of you been into my office since I have been out?”
+
+“I have not, sir,” said Dawkins.
+
+“I went in to carry your letters,” said Paul.
+
+“Did you see a roll of bills lying on my desk?”
+
+“Yes, sir,” said Paul, a little surprised at the question.
+
+“I have just counted it over, and find but six hundred dollars instead
+of eight hundred. Can you account for the discrepancy?”
+
+Mr. Danforth looked keenly at the two boys. Dawkins, who had schooled
+himself to the ordeal, maintained his outward calmness. Paul, beginning
+to perceive that his honesty was called in question, flushed.
+
+“No, sir,” said the boys simultaneously.
+
+“It can hardly be possible, that Mr. Thompson, who is a very careful
+man, should have made such a mistake in paying me,” resumed Mr.
+Danforth.
+
+“As we have been the only persons here,” said Dawkins, “the only way to
+vindicate ourselves from suspicion is, to submit to a search.”
+
+“Yes, sir,” said Paul promptly.
+
+Both boys turned their pockets inside out, but the missing money was not
+found.
+
+“There is my overcoat, sir,” said Dawkins, “will you be kind enough to
+search it for yourself?”
+
+Next, of course, Paul's overcoat was searched.
+
+What was our hero's dismay when from one of the pockets Mr. Danforth
+produced a fifty dollar bill.
+
+“Is it possible?” he exclaimed in as much grief as surprise, “Unhappy
+boy, how came you by this money in your pocket?”
+
+“I don't know, sir,” returned Paul, his cheek alternately flushing and
+growing pale.
+
+“I wish I could believe you,” said Mr. Danforth; “where have you put the
+other bills? Produce them, and I may overlook this first offense.”
+
+“Indeed, sir,” said Paul, in great distress, “I have not the slightest
+knowledge of how this bill came into my pocket. I hope you will believe
+me, sir.”
+
+“How can I? The money evidently did not go into your pocket without
+hands.”
+
+A sudden thought came to Paul. “Dawkins,” said he, “did you put that
+money into my pocket?”
+
+“What do you mean, sir?” returned Dawkins, haughtily. “Is it your
+intention to insult me?”
+
+Dawkins could not prevent his face from flushing as he spoke, but this
+might easily be referred to a natural resentment of the imputation cast
+upon him.
+
+“Paul,” said his employer, coldly, “you will not help your own cause
+by seeking to involve another. After what has happened you can hardly
+expect me to retain you in my employment. I will not make public your
+disgrace, nor will I inquire farther for the remainder of the money for
+which you have been willing to barter your integrity. I will pay your
+wages up to the end of this week, and----”
+
+“Mr. Danforth,” said Paul, manfully, though the tears almost choked his
+utterance, “I am sorry that you have no better opinion of me. I do not
+want the balance of my wages. If I have taken so large a sum which did
+not belong to me, I have no claim to them. Good-morning, sir. Sometime I
+hope you will think better of me.”
+
+Paul put on his coat, and taking his cap from the nail on which it hung,
+bowed respectfully to his employer and left the office.
+
+Mr. Danforth looked after him, and seemed perplexed. Could Paul be
+guilty after all?
+
+“I never could have suspected him if I had not this evidence in my
+hand,” said Mr. Danforth, to himself, fixing his eyes upon the bill
+which he had drawn from Paul's overcoat.
+
+“Dawkins, did you observe whether Paul remained long in the office?” he
+asked.
+
+“Longer than sufficient to lay the letters on the desk?”
+
+“Yes, sir, I think he did.”
+
+“Did you notice whether he went to his overcoat after coming out?”
+
+“Yes, sir, he did,” said Dawkins, anxious to fix in Mr. Danforth's mind
+the impression of Paul's guilt.
+
+“Then I am afraid it is true,” said his employer sadly. “And yet, what a
+fine, manly boy he is too. But it is a terrible fault.”
+
+Mr. Danforth was essentially a kind-hearted man, and he cared much more
+for Paul's dereliction from honesty than for the loss of the money.
+Going home early to dinner, he communicated to his wife the unpleasant
+discovery which he had made respecting Paul.
+
+Now, from the first, Paul had been a great favorite with Mrs. Danforth,
+and she scouted at the idea of his dishonesty.
+
+“Depend upon it, Mr. Danforth,” she said decisively, “you have done the
+boy an injustice. I have some skill in reading faces, and I tell you
+that a boy with Paul Prescott's open, frank expression is incapable of
+such a crime.”
+
+“So I should have said, my dear, but we men learn to be less trustful
+than you ladies, who stay at home and take rose-colored views of life.
+Unfortunately, we see too much of the dark side of human nature.”
+
+“So that you conclude all to be dark.”
+
+“Not so bad as that.”
+
+“Tell me all the circumstances, and perhaps a woman's wit may help you.”
+
+Mr. Danforth communicated all the details, with which the reader is
+already familiar.
+
+“What sort of a boy is this Dawkins?” she asked, “Do you like him?”
+
+“Not particularly. He does his duties passably well. I took him into my
+counting-room to oblige his father.”
+
+“Perhaps he is the thief.”
+
+“To tell the truth I would sooner have suspected him.”
+
+“Has he cleared himself from suspicion?”
+
+“He was the first to suggest a search.”
+
+“Precisely the thing he would have done, if he had placed the bill
+in Paul's pocket. Of course he would know that the search must result
+favorably for him.”
+
+“There is something in that.”
+
+“Besides, what could have been more foolish, if Paul wished to hide the
+money, than to multiply his chances of detection by hiding it in two
+different places, especially where one was so obvious as to afford no
+concealment at all.”
+
+“Admitting this to be true, how am I to arrive at the proof of Paul's
+innocence?”
+
+“My own opinion is, that George Dawkins has the greater part of the
+money stolen. Probably he has taken it for some particular purpose. What
+it is, you may learn, perhaps, by watching him.”
+
+“I will be guided by your suggestion. Nothing would afford me greater
+pleasure than to find that I have been mistaken in assuming Paul's
+guilt, though on evidence that seemed convincing.”
+
+This conversation took place at the dinner-table. Mr. Danforth
+understood that no time was to be lost if he expected to gain any
+information from the movements of his clerk.
+
+George Dawkins had ventured upon a bold act, but he had been apparently
+favored by fortune, and had succeeded. That he should have committed
+this crime without compunction could hardly be expected. His uneasiness,
+however, sprang chiefly from the fear that in some way he might yet
+be detected. He resolved to get rid of the money which he had
+obtained dishonestly, and obtain back from Duval the acknowledgment of
+indebtedness which he had given him.
+
+You will perhaps ask whether the wrong which he had done Paul affected
+him with uneasiness. On the contrary, it gratified the dislike which
+from the first he had cherished towards our hero.
+
+“I am well rid of him, at all events,” he muttered to himself, “that is
+worth risking some thing for.”
+
+When office hours were over Dawkins gladly threw down his pen, and left
+the counting-room.
+
+He bent his steps rapidly towards the locality where he had before met
+Duval. He had decided to wait some time before meeting that worthy. He
+had to wait till another day, when as he was emerging from the tavern he
+encountered the Frenchman on the threshold.
+
+“Aha, my good friend,” said Duval, offering his hand, which Dawkins did
+not appear to see, “I am very glad to see you. Will you come in?”
+
+“No, I have not time,” said Dawkins, shortly.
+
+“Have you brought me my money?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Aha, that is well. I was just about what you call cleaned out.”
+
+“Have you my note with you?”
+
+Duval fumbled in his pocket-book, and finally produced the desired
+document.
+
+“Give it to me.”
+
+“I must have the money first,” said the Frenchman, shrewdly.
+
+“Take it,” said Dawkins contemptuously. “Do you judge me by yourself?”
+
+He tore the note which he received into small pieces, and left Duval
+without another word.
+
+Sheltered by the darkness, Mr. Danforth, who had tracked the steps of
+Dawkins, had been an unseen witness of this whole transaction.
+
+
+
+
+XXXII.
+
+RIGHT TRIUMPHANT.
+
+
+George Dawkins resumed his duties the next morning as usual.
+Notwithstanding the crime he had committed to screen himself from the
+consequences of a lighter fault, he felt immeasurably relieved at the
+thought that he had shaken himself free from the clutches of Duval. His
+satisfaction was heightened by the disgrace and summary dismissal of
+Paul, whom he had never liked. He decided to ask the place for a cousin
+of his own, whose society would be more agreeable to him than that of
+his late associate.
+
+“Good-morning, sir,” he said, as Mr. Danforth entered.
+
+“Good-morning,” returned his employer, coldly.
+
+“Have you selected any one in Prescott's place, yet, sir?”
+
+“Why do you ask?”
+
+“Because I have a cousin, Malcolm Harcourt, who would be glad to take
+it.”
+
+“Indeed!” said Mr. Danforth, whose manner somewhat puzzled Dawkins.
+
+“I should enjoy having him with me,” continued Dawkins.
+
+“Did you like Prescott?”
+
+“No, sir,” said Dawkins, promptly, “I didn't want to say so before, but
+now, since he's turned out so badly, I don't mind saying that I never
+thought much of him.”
+
+“On the contrary,” said Mr. Danforth, “I liked him from the first.
+Perhaps we are wrong in thinking that he took the money.”
+
+“I should think there could be no doubt of it,” said Dawkins, not liking
+the sympathy and returning good feeling for Paul which his employer
+manifested.
+
+“I don't agree with you,” said Mr. Danforth, coldly. “I have decided to
+reinstate Paul in his former place.”
+
+“Then, if any more money is missing, you will know where it has gone,”
+ said Dawkins, hastily.
+
+“I shall.”
+
+“Then there is no chance for my cousin?”
+
+“I am expecting to have a vacancy.”
+
+Dawkins looked up in surprise.
+
+“I shall require some one to fill YOUR place,” said Mr. Danforth,
+significantly.
+
+“Sir!” exclaimed Dawkins, in astonishment and dismay.
+
+His employer bent a searching glance upon him as he asked, sternly,
+“where did you obtain the money which you paid away last evening?”
+
+“I--don't--understand--you, sir,” gasped Dawkins, who understood only
+too well.
+
+“You met a man at the door of a low tavern in--Street, last evening, to
+whom you paid one hundred and fifty dollars, precisely the sum which I
+lost yesterday.”
+
+“Who has been slandering me, sir?” asked Dawkins, very pale.
+
+“An eye-witness of the meeting, who heard the conversation between you.
+If you want more satisfactory proof, here it is.”
+
+Mr. Danforth took from his pocket-book the torn fragments of the note
+which Dawkins had given to Duval.
+
+“Here is an obligation to pay a certain Duval the sum of one hundred and
+fifty dollars. It bears your signature. How you could have incurred such
+a debt to him you best know.”
+
+Dawkins maintained a sullen silence.
+
+“I suppose you wish me to leave your employment,” he said at length.
+
+“You are right. Hold,” he added, as Dawkins was about leaving the room,
+“a word more. It is only just that you should make a restitution of the
+sum which you have taken. If you belonged to a poor family and there
+were extenuating circumstances, I might forego my claim. But your father
+is abundantly able to make good the loss, and I shall require you to
+lay the matter before him without loss of time. In consideration of your
+youth, I shall not bring the matter before the public tribunals, as I
+have a right to do.”
+
+Dawkins turned pale at this allusion, and muttering some words to the
+effect that he would do what he could, left the counting-room.
+
+This threat proved not to be without its effect. The next day he came to
+Mr. Danforth and brought the sum for which he had become responsible. He
+had represented to his father that he had had his pocket picked of this
+sum belonging to Mr. Danforth, and in that manner obtained an equal
+amount to replace it. It was some time before Mr. Dawkins learned the
+truth. Then came a storm of reproaches in which all the bitterness of
+his father's nature was fully exhibited. There had never been much love
+between father and son. Henceforth there was open hatred.
+
+We must return to Paul, whom we left in much trouble.
+
+It was a sad walk which he took homeward on the morning of his
+dismissal.
+
+“What brings you home so early?” asked Mrs. Cameron, looking up from her
+baking, as Paul entered.
+
+Paul tried to explain, but tears came to his eyes, and sobs choked his
+utterance.
+
+“Are you sick, Paul?” exclaimed Mrs. Cameron, in alarm.
+
+“No, Aunt Hester.”
+
+“Then what is the matter?” she asked anxiously.
+
+“I have lost my place.”
+
+“Poor boy! I am very sorry to hear it. But it might have been worse.”
+
+“No, not very well, Aunt Hester, for Mr. Danforth thinks I have taken
+some of his money.”
+
+“He is very unjust!” exclaimed Aunt Hester, indignantly, “he ought to
+have known better than to think you would steal.”
+
+“Why, no,” said Paul, candidly, “I must confess the evidence was against
+me, and he doesn't know me as well as you do, Aunt Hester.”
+
+“Tell me all about it, Paul.”
+
+Aunt Hester sat down and listened attentively to our hero's story.
+
+“How do you account for the money being found in your pocket?” she asked
+at length.
+
+“I think it must have been put there by some one else.”
+
+“Have you any suspicions?”
+
+“Yes,” said Paul, a little reluctantly, “but I don't know whether I
+ought to have. I may be wronging an innocent person.”
+
+“At any rate it won't do any harm to tell me.”
+
+“You've heard me speak of George Dawkins?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“I can't help thinking that he put the fifty dollars into my pocket, and
+took the rest himself.”
+
+“How very wicked he must be!” exclaimed Mrs. Cameron, indignantly.
+
+“Don't judge him too hastily; Aunt Hester, he may not be guilty, and I
+know from my own experience how hard it is to be accused when you are
+innocent.”
+
+Soon after the sexton came in, and Paul of course, told his story over
+again.
+
+“Never mind, Paul,” said Uncle Hugh, cheerily. “You know your own
+innocence; that is the main thing. It's a great thing to have a clear
+conscience.”
+
+“But I liked Mr. Danforth and I think he liked me. It's hard to feel
+that he and Mrs. Danforth will both think me guilty, especially after
+the kindness which I have experienced from them.”
+
+“We all have our crosses, my boy,--some light and others heavy. Yours, I
+admit is a heavy one for a boy to bear. But when men are unjust there is
+One above who will deal justly with us. You have not forgotten him.”
+
+“No, Uncle Hugh,” said Paul, reverently.
+
+“Trust in him, Paul, and all will come out right at last. He can prove
+your innocence, and you may be sure he will, in his own good time. Only
+be patient, Paul.”
+
+“I will try to be, Uncle Hugh.”
+
+The simple, hearty trust in God, which the sexton manifested, was not
+lost upon Paul. Sustained by his own consciousness of innocence, and
+the confidence reposed in him by those who knew him best, his mind soon
+regained its cheerful tone. He felt an inward conviction that God would
+vindicate his innocence.
+
+His vindication came sooner than he anticipated.
+
+The next day as the sexton's family were seated at their plain dinner, a
+knock was heard upon the outer door.
+
+“Sit still, Hester,” said Mr. Cameron. “I will go to the door.”
+
+Opening the door he recognized Mr. Danforth, who attended the same
+church.
+
+“Mr. Cameron, I believe,” said Mr. Danforth, pleasantly.
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“May I come in? I am here on a little business.”
+
+“Certainly, Mr. Danforth. Excuse my not inviting you before; but in my
+surprise at seeing you, I forgot my politeness.”
+
+The sexton led the way into the plain sitting-room.
+
+“I believe Paul Prescott is an inmate of your family.”
+
+“Yes, sir. I am sorry----”
+
+“I know what you would say, sir; but it is needless. May I see Paul a
+moment?”
+
+Paul was surprised at the summons, and still more surprised at finding
+who it was that wished to see him.
+
+He entered the room slowly, uncertain how to accost Mr. Danforth. His
+employer solved the doubt in his mind by advancing cordially, and taking
+his hand.
+
+“Paul,” he said pleasantly, “I have come here to ask your forgiveness
+for an injustice, and to beg you to resume your place in my
+counting-room.”
+
+“Have you found out who took the money, sir?” asked Paul, eagerly.
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Who was it, sir?”
+
+“It was Dawkins.”
+
+Mr. Danforth explained how he had become acquainted with the real thief.
+In conclusion, he said, “I shall expect you back to-morrow morning,
+Paul.”
+
+“Thank you, sir.”
+
+“Dawkins of course leaves my employ. You will take his place, and
+receive his salary, seven dollars a week instead of five. Have you any
+friend whom you would like to have in your own place?”
+
+Paul reflected a moment and finally named a schoolmate of his, the son
+of poor parents, whom he knew to be anxiously seeking a situation, but
+without influential friends to help him.
+
+“I will take him on your recommendation,” said Mr. Danforth, promptly.
+“Can you see him this afternoon?”
+
+“Yes, sir,” said Paul.
+
+The next day Paul resumed his place in Mr. Danforth's counting-room.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIII.
+
+PAUL REDEEMS HIS PLEDGE.
+
+
+Two years passed, unmarked by any incident of importance. Paul
+continued in Mr. Danforth's employment, giving, if possible, increased
+satisfaction. He was not only faithful, but exhibited a rare aptitude
+for business, which made his services of great value to his employer.
+From time to time Mr. Danforth increased his salary, so that, though
+only nineteen, he was now receiving twelve dollars per week, with the
+prospect of a speedy increase. But with his increasing salary, he did
+not increase his expenses. He continued as economical as ever. He had
+not forgotten his father's dying injunction. He remained true to the
+charge which he had taken upon himself, that of redeeming his father's
+memory from reproach. This, at times subjected him to the imputation
+of meanness, but for this he cared little. He would not swerve from the
+line of duty which he had marked out.
+
+One evening as he was walking down Broadway with an acquaintance, Edward
+Hastings, who was employed in a counting-room near him, they paused
+before a transparency in front of a hall brilliantly lighted.
+
+“The Hutchinsons are going to sing to-night, Paul,” said Hastings. “Did
+you ever hear them?”
+
+“No; but I have often wished to.”
+
+“Then suppose we go in.”
+
+“No, I believe not.”
+
+“Why not. Paul? It seems to me you never go anywhere. You ought to amuse
+yourself now and then.”
+
+“Some other time I will,--not now.”
+
+“You are not required to be at home in the evening, are you?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Then why not come in now? It's only twenty-five cents.”
+
+“To tell the truth, Ned, I am saving up my money for a particular
+purpose; and until that is accomplished, I avoid all unnecessary
+expense.”
+
+“Going to invest in a house in Fifth Avenue? When you do, I'll call.
+However, never mind the expense. I'll pay you in.”
+
+“I'm much obliged to you, Ned, but I can't accept.”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“Because at present I can't afford to return the favor.”
+
+“Never mind that.”
+
+“But I do mind it. By-and-by I shall feel more free. Good-night, if you
+are going in.”
+
+“Good-night, Paul.”
+
+“He's a strange fellow,” mused Hastings.
+
+“It's impossible to think him mean, and yet, it looks a great deal like
+it. He spends nothing for dress or amusements. I do believe that I've
+had three coats since he's been wearing that old brown one. Yet, he
+always looks neat. I wonder what he's saving up his money for.”
+
+Meanwhile Paul went home.
+
+The sexton and his wife looked the same as ever. Paul sometimes fancied
+that Uncle Hugh stooped a little more than he used to do; but his life
+moved on so placidly and evenly, that he grew old but slowly. Aunt
+Hester was the same good, kind, benevolent friend that she had always
+been. No mother could have been more devoted to Paul. He felt that he
+had much to be grateful for, in his chance meeting with this worthy
+couple.
+
+It was the first of January,--a clear, cold day. A pleasant fire burned
+in the little stove. Mr. Cameron sat at one side, reading the evening
+paper; Mrs. Cameron at the other, knitting a stocking for Paul. A large,
+comfortable-looking cat was dozing tranquilly on the hearth-rug. Paul,
+who had been seated at the table, rose and lighted a candle.
+
+“Where are you going, Paul?” asked Aunt Hester.
+
+“Up-stairs for a moment.”
+
+Paul speedily returned, bearing in his hand a small blue bank-book, with
+his name on the cover.
+
+He took out his pencil and figured a few minutes.
+
+“Uncle Hugh,” said he, looking up, “when I get a hundred dollars more, I
+shall have enough to pay father's debt.”
+
+“Principal and interest?”
+
+“Yes, principal and interest; reckoning the interest for a year to
+come.”
+
+“I did not suppose you had so much money, Paul. You must have been very
+economical.”
+
+“Yes, Uncle Hugh more so than I have wanted to be, oftentimes; but
+whenever I have been tempted to spend a cent unnecessarily, I have
+always called to mind my promise made to father on his deathbed, and I
+have denied myself.”
+
+“You have done well, Paul. There are few who would have had the
+resolution to do as you have.”
+
+“Oh yes, Uncle Hugh,” said Paul, modestly, “I think there are a great
+many. I begin to feel repaid already. In a few months I shall be able to
+pay up the whole debt.”
+
+At this moment a knock was heard at the door. Mr. Cameron answered the
+summons.
+
+“Does Mr. Paul Prescott live here?” inquired a boy.
+
+“Yes. Do you want to see him?”
+
+“Here is a letter for him. There is no answer.”
+
+The messenger departed, leaving the letter in Mr. Cameron's hand.
+
+Somewhat surprised, he returned to the sitting-room and handed it to
+Paul.
+
+Paul opened it hastily, and discovered inclosed, a bank-note for one
+hundred dollars. It was accompanied with a note from his employer,
+stating that it was intended as a New Year's gift, but in the hurry of
+business, he had forgotten to give it to him during the day.
+
+Paul's face lighted up with joy.
+
+“Oh, Uncle Hugh!” he exclaimed, almost breathless with delight. “Don't
+you see that this will enable me to pay my debt at once?”
+
+“So it will, Paul. I wish you joy.”
+
+“And my father's memory will be vindicated,” said Paul, in a tone of
+deep satisfaction. “If he could only have lived to see this day!”
+
+A fortnight later, Paul obtained permission from his employer to
+be absent from the office for a week. It was his purpose to visit
+Cedarville and repay 'Squire Conant the debt due him: and then, to go
+across the country to Wrenville, thirty miles distant, to see Aunt Lucy
+Lee. First, however, he ordered a new suit of a tailor, feeling a desire
+to appear to the best advantage on his return to the scene of his former
+humiliation. I must not omit to say that Paul was now a fine-looking
+young fellow of nineteen, with a frank, manly face, that won favor
+wherever he went.
+
+In due course of time, he arrived at Cedarville, and found his way
+without difficulty to the house of 'Squire Conant.
+
+It was a large house, rather imposing in its exterior, being quite the
+finest residence in the village.
+
+Paul went up the walk, and rang the bell.
+
+“Can I see 'Squire Conant?” he asked of the servant who answered the
+bell.
+
+“You'll find him in that room,” said the girl, pointing to a door on the
+left hand of the hall.
+
+“As he doesn't know me, perhaps you had better go before.”
+
+The door was opened, and Paul found himself in the presence of his
+father's creditor. 'Squire Conant was looking pale and thin. He was just
+recovering from a severe sickness.
+
+“I presume you don't recognize me, sir,” said Paul.
+
+“Did I ever see you before?”
+
+“Yes, sir; my name is Paul Prescott.”
+
+“Not the son of John Prescott?”
+
+“The same, sir. I believe my father died in your debt.”
+
+“Yes. I lent him five hundred dollars, which he never repaid.”
+
+“He tried to do so, sir. He had saved up a hundred and fifty dollars
+towards it, but sickness came upon him, and he was obliged to use it.”
+
+'Squire Conant's temper had been subdued by the long and dangerous
+illness through which he had passed. It had made him set a smaller value
+on his earthly possessions, from which he might be separated at any
+moment. When he answered Paul, it was in a manner which our hero did not
+expect.
+
+“Never mind. I can afford to lose it. I have no doubt he did what he
+could.”
+
+“But I have come to pay it, sir,” said Paul.
+
+“You!” exclaimed 'Squire Conant, in the greatest astonishment.
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“Where did you get the money?”
+
+“I earned it, sir.”
+
+“But you are very young. How could you have earned so much?”
+
+Paul frankly told the story of his struggles; how for years he had
+practised a pinching economy, in order to redeem his father's memory
+from reproach.
+
+'Squire Conant listened attentively.
+
+“You are a good boy,” he said, at length.
+
+“Shall you have anything left after paying this money?”
+
+“No, sir; but I shall soon earn more.”
+
+“Still, you ought to have something to begin the world with. You shall
+pay me half the money, and I will cancel the note.”
+
+“But, sir,----”
+
+“Not a word. I am satisfied, and that is enough. If I hadn't lent your
+father the money, I might have invested it with the rest, and lost all.”
+
+'Squire Conant produced the note from a little trunk of papers, and
+handed it to Paul, who paid him the amount which he had stipulated,
+expressing at the same time his gratitude for his unexpected generosity.
+
+“Never mind about thanks, my boy,” said 'Squire Conant: “I am afraid I
+have loved money too well heretofore. I hope I am not too old to turn
+over a new leaf.”
+
+
+
+
+XXXIV.
+
+HOW PAUL GOES BACK TO WRENVILLE.
+
+
+While 'Squire Conant was speaking, Paul formed a sudden resolution. He
+remembered that Aunt Lucy Lee was a sister of 'Squire Conant. Perhaps,
+in his present frame of mind, it might be possible to induce him to do
+something for her.
+
+“I believe I am acquainted with a sister of yours, 'Squire Conant,” he
+commenced.
+
+“Ha!” exclaimed the 'Squire.
+
+“Mrs. Lucy Lee.”
+
+“Yes,” was the slow reply; “she is my sister. Where did you meet her?”
+
+“At the Wrenville Poorhouse.”
+
+“How long ago?”
+
+“About six years since.”
+
+“Is she there, still?”
+
+“Yes, sir. Since I have been in New York, I have heard from her
+frequently. I am going from here to visit her. Have you any message,
+sir? I am sure she would be glad to hear from you.”
+
+“She shall hear from me,” said the 'Squire in a low voice. “Sit down,
+and I will write her a letter which, I hope, will not prove unwelcome.”
+
+Five minutes afterwards he handed Paul an open letter.
+
+“You may read it,” he said, abruptly.
+
+“You have been a better friend to my sister than I. You shall witness my
+late reparation.”
+
+The letter was as follows:----
+
+CEDARVILLE, JAN 13, 18--.
+
+MY DEAR SISTER:--
+
+I hope you will forgive me for my long neglect. It is not fitting that
+while I am possessed of abundant means you should longer remain the
+tenant of an almshouse. I send you by the bearer of this note, Paul
+Prescott, who, I understand, is a friend of yours, the sum of three
+hundred dollars. The same sum will be sent you annually. I hope it will
+be sufficient to maintain you comfortably. I shall endeavor to call upon
+you soon, and meanwhile remain, Your affectionate brother,
+
+EZEKIEL CONANT.
+
+
+Paul read this letter with grateful joy. It seemed almost to good to be
+true. Aunt Lucy would be released from the petty tyranny of Mrs. Mudge's
+household, and perhaps--he felt almost sure Aunt Hester would be willing
+to receive her as a boarder, thus insuring her a peaceful and happy home
+in her declining years.
+
+“Oh, sir,” said he, seizing 'Squire Conant's hand, “you cannot tell how
+happy you have made me.”
+
+“It is what I ought to have done before. Here is the money referred to
+in the letter,--three hundred dollars,--mind you don't lose it.”
+
+“I will take every care, sir.”
+
+“You may tell my sister that I shall be happy to have her write me.”
+
+“I will, sir.”
+
+Paul left 'Squire Conant's house, feeling that he had great cause for
+joy. The 'Squire's refusal to receive more than half the debt, left him
+master of over three hundred dollars. But I am not sure whether he did
+not rejoice even more over the good fortune which had come to Aunt Lucy
+Lee, whose kindness to him, in his unfriended boyhood, he would ever
+hold in grateful remembrance. He enjoyed in anticipation the joy
+which he knew Aunt Lucy would feel when the change in her fortunes was
+communicated to her. He knew also how great would be the chagrin of Mr.
+and Mrs. Mudge, when they found that the meek old lady whom they hated
+was about to be rescued from their clutches. On the whole, Paul felt
+that this was the happiest day of his life. It was a satisfaction to
+feel that the good fortune of his early friend was all due to his own
+intercession.
+
+He was able to take the cars to a point four miles distant from
+Wrenville. On getting out on the platform he inquired whether there was
+a livery stable near by. He was directed to one but a few rods distant.
+Entering he asked, “Can you let me have a horse and chaise to go to
+Wrenville?”
+
+“Yes, sir,” said the groom.
+
+“Let me have the best horse in the stable,” said Paul, “and charge me
+accordingly.”
+
+“Yes, sir,” said the groom, respectfully, judging from Paul's dress and
+tone that he was a young gentleman of fortune.
+
+A spirited animal was brought out, and Paul was soon seated in the
+chaise driving along the Wrenville road. Paul's city friends would
+hardly have recognized their economical acquaintance in the well-dressed
+young man who now sat behind a fast horse, putting him through his best
+paces. It might have been a weakness in Paul, but he remembered the
+manner in which he left Wrenville, an unfriended boy, compelled to fly
+from persecution under the cover of darkness, and he felt a certain
+pride in showing the Mudges that his circumstances were now entirely
+changed. It was over this very road that he had walked with his little
+bundle, in the early morning, six years before. It seemed to him almost
+like a dream.
+
+At length he reached Wrenville. Though he had not been there for six
+years, he recognized the places that had once been familiar to him. But
+everything seemed to have dwindled. Accustomed to large city warehouses,
+the houses in the village seemed very diminutive. Even 'Squire Benjamin
+Newcome's house, which he had once regarded as a stately mansion, now
+looked like a very ordinary dwelling.
+
+As he rode up the main street of the village, many eyes were fixed
+upon him and his carriage, but no one thought of recognizing, in
+the well-dressed youth, the boy who had run away from the Wrenville
+Poorhouse.
+
+
+
+
+XXXV.
+
+CONCLUSION.
+
+
+At the very moment that Paul was driving through the village street,
+Mr. Nicholas Mudge entered the Poorhouse in high spirits. Certainly
+ill-fortune must have befallen some one to make the good man so
+exhilarant.
+
+To explain, Mr. Mudge had just been to the village store to purchase
+some groceries. One of his parcels was tied up in a stray leaf of a
+recent New York Daily, in which he discovered an item which he felt
+sure would make Aunt Lucy unhappy. He communicated it to Mrs. Mudge,
+who highly approved his design. She called the old lady from the common
+room.
+
+“Here, Aunt Lucy,” she said, “is something that will interest you.”
+
+Aunt Lucy came in, wondering a little at such an unusual mark of
+attention.
+
+Mrs. Mudge immediately commenced reading with malicious emphasis a
+paragraph concerning a certain Paul Prescott, who had been arrested
+for thieving, and sentenced to the House of Reformation for a term of
+months.
+
+“There,” said Mrs. Mudge, triumphantly, “what do you say to your
+favorite now? Turned out well, hasn't he? Didn't I always say so? I
+always knew that boy was bad at heart, and that he'd come to a bad end.”
+
+“I don't believe it's the same boy,” declared Aunt Lucy, who was
+nevertheless unpleasantly affected by the paragraph. She thought it
+possible that Paul might have yielded to a powerful temptation.
+
+“Perhaps you think I've been making it up. If you don't believe it look
+at the paper for yourself,” thrusting it into Aunt Lucy's hands.
+
+“Yes,” said the old lady. “I see that the name is the same; but, for
+all that, there is a mistake somewhere. I do not believe it is the same
+boy.”
+
+“You don't? Just as if there would be more than one boy of that name.
+There may be other Prescotts, but there isn't but one Paul Prescott,
+take my word for it.”
+
+“If it is he,” said Aunt Lucy, indignantly, “is it Christianlike to
+rejoice over the poor boy's misfortune?”
+
+“Misfortune!” retorted Mrs. Mudge with a sneer; “you call it a
+misfortune to steal, then! I call it a crime.”
+
+“It's often misfortune that drives people to it, though,” continued the
+old lady, looking keenly at Mrs. Mudge. “I have known cases where they
+didn't have that excuse.”
+
+Mrs. Mudge colored.
+
+“Go back to your room,” said she, sharply; “and don't stay here accusing
+me and Mr. Mudge of unchristian conduct. You're the most troublesome
+pauper we have on our hands; and I do wish the town would provide for
+you somewhere else.”
+
+“So do I,” sighed the old lady to herself, though she did not think fit
+to give audible voice to her thoughts.
+
+It was at this moment that Paul halted his chaise at the gate, and
+lightly jumping out, fastened his horse to a tree, and walked up to the
+front door.
+
+“Who can it be?” thought Mrs. Mudge, hastily adjusting her cap, and
+taking off her apron.
+
+“I don't know, I'm sure,” said Mr. Mudge, unsuspiciously.
+
+“I declare! I look like a fright.”
+
+“No worse than usual,” said her husband, gallantly.
+
+By this time Paul had knocked.
+
+“Good-morning, sir,” said Mrs. Mudge, deferentially, her respect excited
+by Paul's dress and handsome chaise.
+
+“Is Mrs. Lee in?” inquired Paul, not caring to declare himself, yet, to
+his old enemy.
+
+“Yes,” said Mrs. Mudge, obsequiously, though not overpleased to find
+that this was Aunt Lucy's visitor; “would you like to see her?”
+
+“If you please.”
+
+“What can he want of the old lady?” thought Mrs. Mudge, as she went to
+summon her.
+
+“A visitor for me?” asked Aunt Lucy, looking at Mrs. Mudge somewhat
+suspiciously.
+
+“Yes; and as he's come in a carriage, you'd better slick up a little;
+put on a clean cap or something.”
+
+Aunt Lucy was soon ready.
+
+She looked wonderingly at Paul, not recognizing him.
+
+“You are not very good at remembering your old friends,” said Paul, with
+a smile.
+
+“What!” exclaimed Aunt Lucy, her face lighting up with joy; “are you
+little Paul?”
+
+“Not very little, now,” said our hero, laughing; “but I'm the same Paul
+you used to know.”
+
+Mrs. Mudge, who through the half open door had heard this revelation,
+was overwhelmed with astonishment and confusion. She hurried to her
+husband.
+
+“Wonders will never cease!” she exclaimed, holding up both hands. “If
+that doesn't turn out to be Paul Prescott. Of course he's up in the
+world, or he wouldn't dress so well, and ride in such a handsome
+carriage.”
+
+“You don't say so!” returned Mr. Mudge, who looked as if he had heard of
+a heavy misfortune.
+
+“Yes, I do; I heard him say so with his own lips. It's a pity you showed
+that paragraph to Aunt Lucy, this morning.”
+
+“That you showed, you mean,” retorted her husband.
+
+“No, I don't. You know it was you that did it.”
+
+“Hush; they'll hear.”
+
+Meanwhile the two friends were conversing together happily.
+
+“I'm so glad you're doing so well, Paul,” said Aunt Lucy. “It was a
+lucky day when you left the Poorhouse behind you.”
+
+“Yes, Aunt Lucy, and to-day is a lucky day for you. There's room for two
+in that chaise, and I'm going to take you away with me.”
+
+“I should enjoy a ride, Paul. It's a long time since I have taken one.”
+
+“You don't understand me. You're going away not to return.”
+
+The old lady smiled sadly.
+
+“No, no, Paul. I can't consent to become a burden upon your generosity.
+You can't afford it, and it will not be right.”
+
+“O,” said Paul, smiling, “you give me credit for too much. I mean that
+you shall pay your board.”
+
+“But you know I have no money.”
+
+“No, I don't. I don't consider that a lady is penniless, who has an
+income of three hundred dollars a year.”
+
+“I don't understand you, Paul.”
+
+“Then, perhaps you will understand this,” said our hero, enjoying the
+old lady's astonishment.
+
+He drew from his pocket a roll of bills, and passed them to Aunt Lucy.
+
+The old lady looked so bewildered, that he lost no time in explaining
+the matter to her. Then, indeed, Aunt Lucy was happy; not only because
+she had become suddenly independent, but, because after years of
+coldness and estrangement, her brother had at last become reconciled to
+her.
+
+“Now, Aunt Lucy,” resumed Paul, “I'll tell you what my plans are. You
+shall get into the chaise with me, and go at once to New York. I think
+Aunt Hester will be willing to receive you as a boarder; if not, I will
+find you a pleasant place near by. Will that suit you?”
+
+“It will make me very happy; but I cannot realize it. It seems like a
+dream.”
+
+At this moment Mrs. Mudge entered the room, and, after a moment's
+scrutiny, pretended to recognize Paul. Her husband followed close behind
+her.
+
+“Can I believe my eyes?” she exclaimed. “Is this indeed Paul Prescott? I
+am very glad to see you back.”
+
+“Only a visit, Mrs. Mudge,” said Paul, smiling.
+
+“You'll stop to dinner, I hope?”
+
+Paul thought of the soup and dry bread which he used to find so
+uninviting, and said that he should not have time to do so.
+
+“We've thought of you often,” said Mr. Mudge, writhing his harsh
+features into a smile. “There's scarcely a day that we haven't spoken of
+you.”
+
+“I ought to feel grateful for your remembrance,” said Paul, his eyes
+twinkling with mirth. “But I don't think, Mr. Mudge, you always thought
+so much of me.”
+
+Mr. Mudge coughed in some embarrassment, and not thinking of anything in
+particular to say, said nothing.
+
+“I am going to take from you another of your boarders,” said Paul. “Can
+you spare Aunt Lucy?”
+
+“For how long?” asked Mrs. Mudge.
+
+“For all the time. She has just come into possession of a little
+property,--several hundred dollars a year,--and I have persuaded her to
+go to New York to board.”
+
+“Is this true?” exclaimed Mrs. Mudge in astonishment.
+
+“Yes,” said the old lady, “God has been bountiful to me when I least
+expected it.”
+
+“Can I be of any service in assisting you to pack up, Mrs. Lee?”
+ asked Mrs. Mudge, with new-born politeness. She felt that as a lady of
+property, Aunt Lucy was entitled to much greater respect and deference
+than before.
+
+“Thank you, Mrs. Mudge,” said Paul, answering for her.
+
+“She won't have occasion for anything in this house. She will get a
+supply of new things when she gets to New York.”
+
+The old lady looked very happy, and Mrs. Mudge, in spite of her outward
+deference, felt thoroughly provoked at her good fortune.
+
+I will not dwell upon the journey to New York. Aunt Lucy, though
+somewhat fatigued, bore it much better than she had anticipated. Mr. and
+Mrs. Cameron entered very heartily into Paul's plans, and readily agreed
+to receive Aunt Lucy as an inmate of their happy and united household.
+The old lady felt it to be a happy and blessed change from the
+Poorhouse, where scanty food and poor accommodations had been made
+harder to bear by the ill temper of Mr. and Mrs. Mudge, to a home whose
+atmosphere was peace and kindness.
+
+*****
+
+And now, dear reader, it behooves us to draw together the different
+threads of our story, and bring all to a satisfactory end.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Mudge are no longer in charge of the Wrenville Poorhouse.
+After Aunt Lucy's departure, Mrs. Mudge became so morose and despotic,
+that her rule became intolerable. Loud complaints came to the ears of
+'Squire Newcome, Chairman of the Overseers of the Poor. One fine morning
+he was compelled to ride over and give the interesting couple warning
+to leave immediately. Mr. Mudge undertook the charge of a farm, but his
+habits of intoxication increased upon him to such an extent, that he was
+found dead one winter night, in a snow-drift, between his own house and
+the tavern. Mrs. Mudge was not extravagant in her expressions of grief,
+not having a very strong affection for her husband. At last accounts,
+she was keeping a boarding-house in a manufacturing town. Some time
+since, her boarders held an indignation meeting, and threatened to
+leave in a body unless she improved her fare,--a course to which she was
+obliged to submit.
+
+George Dawkins, unable to obtain a recommendation from Mr. Danforth, did
+not succeed in securing another place in New York. He finally prevailed
+upon his father to advance him a sum of money, with which he went to
+California. Let us hope that he may “turn over a new leaf” there, and
+establish a better reputation than he did in New York.
+
+Mr. Stubbs is still in the tin business. He is as happy as the day is
+long, and so are his wife and children. Once a year he comes to New York
+and pays Paul a visit. This supplies him with something to talk about
+for the rest of the year. He is frugal in his expenses, and is able
+to lay up a couple of hundred dollars every year, which he confides to
+Paul, in whose financial skill he has the utmost confidence.
+
+I am sure my boy readers would not forgive me for omitting to tell them
+something more about Ben Newcome. Although his mirthful spirit sometimes
+led him into mischief, he was good-hearted, and I have known him do many
+an act of kindness, even at considerable trouble to himself. It will be
+remembered that in consequence of his night adventure, during which
+he personated a ghost, much to the terror of Mr. Mudge his father
+determined to send him to a military school. This proved to be a
+wise arrangement. The discipline was such as Ben needed, and he soon
+distinguished himself by his excellence in the military drill. Soon
+after he graduated, the Rebellion broke out, and Ben was at once, in
+spite of his youth, elected Captain of the Wrenville company. At the
+battle of Antietam he acquitted himself with so much credit that he
+was promoted to a major. He was again promoted, and when Richmond was
+evacuated, he was one of the first officers to enter the streets of the
+Rebel capital, a colonel in command of his regiment. I have heard on
+high authority, that he is considered one of the best officers in the
+service.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Cameron are still living. They are happy in the success and
+increasing prosperity of Paul, whom they regard as a son. Between them
+and Aunt Lucy he would stand a very fair chance of being spoiled, if his
+own good sense and good judgment were not sufficient to save him from
+such a misfortune. Paul is now admitted to a small interest in the firm,
+which entitles him to a share in the profits. As Danforth and Co. have
+done a very extensive business of late years, this interest brings him
+in a very handsome income. There is only one cause of difference between
+him and the sexton. He insists that Uncle Hugh, who is getting infirm,
+should resign his office, as he is abundantly able to support the whole
+family. But the good sexton loves his duties, and will continue to
+discharge them as long as he is able.
+
+And now we must bid farewell to Paul. He has battled bravely with the
+difficulties and discouragements that beset him in early life, he
+has been faithful to the charge which he voluntarily assumed, and his
+father's memory is free from reproach. He often wishes that his father
+could have lived to witness his prosperity? but God has decreed it
+otherwise. Happy in the love of friends, and in the enjoyment of all
+that can make life desirable, so far as external circumstances have that
+power, let us all wish him God speed!
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Paul Prescott's Charge, by Horatio Alger
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diff --git a/293-0.zip b/293-0.zip
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+<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
+
+<!DOCTYPE html
+   PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+   "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" >
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <title>
+      Paul Prescott's Charge, by Horatio Alger, Jr.
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
+
+    body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify}
+    P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
+    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
+    .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
+    blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
+    div.fig    { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
+    div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; }
+    .figleft   {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;}
+    .figright  {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;}
+    .pagenum   {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal;
+               margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%;
+               text-align: right;}
+    pre        { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}
+
+</style>
+  </head>
+  <body>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Paul Prescott's Charge, by Horatio Alger
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Paul Prescott's Charge
+
+Author: Horatio Alger
+
+Release Date: March 14, 2006 [EBook #293]
+Last Updated: January 9, 2019
+
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAUL PRESCOTT'S CHARGE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer and David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      PAUL PRESCOTT'S CHARGE.
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      By Horatio Alger, Jr.
+    </h2>
+    <h5>
+      Alger Series For Boys. {About 50 Titles} Uniform With This Volume.
+    </h5>
+    <h4>
+      TO <br /> The Boys <br /> Whose Memory Goes Back With Me <br /> To The
+      Boarding School <br /> At Potowome <br /> This Volume Is Affectionately
+      Dedicated <br /> By <br /> The Author.
+    </h4>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <blockquote>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br /> <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE </a><br /> <br /> <a
+        href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>PAUL PRESCOTT'S CHARGE</b> </a> <br /> <br />
+        <br />
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> I. -- SQUIRE NEWCOME. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> II. -- PAUL PRESCOTT'S HOME. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> III. -- PAUL'S BRILLIANT PROSPECTS. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> IV. -- LIFE IN A NEW PHASE. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> V. -- A CRISIS. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VI. -- PAUL'S DETERMINATION </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VII. -- PAUL BEGINS HIS JOURNEY. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> VIII. -- A FRIEND IN NEED. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> IX. -- A CLOUD IN THE MUDGE HORIZON. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> X. -- MR. MUDGE MEETS HIS MATCH. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XI. -- WAYSIDE GOSSIP. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XII. -- ON THE BRINK OF DISCOVERY. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XIII. -- PAUL REACHES THE CITY. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XIV. -- A STRANGE BED-CHAMBER. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XV. -- A TURN OF FORTUNE. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XVI. -- YOUNG STUPID. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XVII. -- BEN'S PRACTICAL JOKE. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XVIII. -- MORE ABOUT BEN. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XIX. -- MRS. MUDGE'S DISCOMFITURE. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> XX. -- PAUL OBTAINS A SITUATION. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> XXI. -- SMITH AND THOMPSON'S YOUNG MAN. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> XXII. -- MR. BENTON'S ADVENTURE. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> XXIII. -- PAUL LOSES HIS SITUATION AND GAINS A FRIEND. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> XXIV. -- PAUL CALLS ON MRS. DANFORTH. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> XXV. -- AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> XXVI. -- A VULGAR RELATION. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> XXVII. -- MR. MUDGE'S FRIGHT. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> XXVIII. -- HOW BEN GOT HOME. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> XXIX. -- DAWKINS IN DIFFICULTIES. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> XXX. -- A TRAP IS LAID FOR PAUL. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> XXXI. -- CONVICTED OF THEFT. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> XXXII. -- RIGHT TRIUMPHANT. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> XXXIII. -- PAUL REDEEMS HIS PLEDGE. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> XXXIV. -- HOW PAUL GOES BACK TO WRENVILLE. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> XXXV. -- CONCLUSION. </a>
+      </p>
+
+    </blockquote>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      PREFACE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;PAUL PRESCOTT'S CHARGE&rdquo; is presented to the public as the second volume
+      of the Campaign Series. Though wholly unlike the first volume, it is
+      written in furtherance of the same main idea, that every boy's life is a
+      campaign, more or less difficult, in which success depends upon integrity
+      and a steadfast adherence to duty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How Paul Prescott gained strength by battling with adverse circumstances,
+      and, under all discouragements, kept steadily before him the charge which
+      he received from his dying father, is fully told; and the author will be
+      glad if the record shall prove an incentive and an encouragement to those
+      boys who may have a similar campaign before them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      PAUL PRESCOTT'S CHARGE.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      I.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      SQUIRE NEWCOME.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;HANNAH!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The speaker was a tall, pompous-looking man, whose age appeared to verge
+      close upon fifty. He was sitting bolt upright in a high-backed chair, and
+      looked as if it would be quite impossible to deviate from his position of
+      unbending rigidity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Squire Benjamin Newcome, as he was called, in the right of his position as
+      Justice of the Peace, Chairman of the Selectmen, and wealthiest resident
+      of Wrenville, was a man of rule and measure. He was measured in his walk,
+      measured in his utterance, and measured in all his transactions. He might
+      be called a dignified machine. He had a very exalted conception of his own
+      position, and the respect which he felt to be his due, not only from his
+      own household, but from all who approached him. If the President of the
+      United States had called upon him, Squire Newcome would very probably have
+      felt that he himself was the party who conferred distinction, and not
+      received it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Squire Newcome was a widower. His wife, who was as different from himself
+      as could well be conceived, did not live long after marriage. She was
+      chilled to death, as it was thought, by the dignified iceberg of whose
+      establishment she had become a part. She had left, however, a child, who
+      had now grown to be a boy of twelve. This boy was a thorn in the side of
+      his father, who had endeavored in vain to mould him according to his idea
+      of propriety. But Ben was gifted with a spirit of fun, sometimes running
+      into mischief, which was constantly bursting out in new directions, in
+      spite of his father's numerous and rather prosy lectures.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Han-nah!&rdquo; again called Squire Newcome, separating the two syllables by a
+      pause of deliberation, and strongly accenting the last syllable,&mdash;a
+      habit of his with all proper names.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hannah was the Irish servant of all work, who was just then engaged in
+      mixing up bread in the room adjoining, which was the kitchen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Feeling a natural reluctance to appear before her employer with her hands
+      covered with dough, she hastily washed them. All this, however, took time,
+      and before she responded to the first summons, the second &ldquo;Han-nah!&rdquo;
+       delivered with a little sharp emphasis, had been uttered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At length she appeared at the door of the sitting-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Han-nah!&rdquo; said Squire Newcome, fixing his cold gray eye upon her, &ldquo;when
+      you hear my voice a calling you, it is your duty to answer the summons
+      IMMEJIATELY.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I have endeavored to represent the Squire's pronunciation of the last
+      word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I would have come IMMEJOUSLY,&rdquo; said Hannah, displaying a most
+      reprehensible ignorance, &ldquo;but me hands were all covered with flour.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That makes no difference,&rdquo; interrupted the Squire. &ldquo;Flour is an
+      accidental circumstance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's that?&rdquo; thought Hannah, opening her eyes in amazement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And should not be allowed to interpose an obstacle to an IMMEJIATE answer
+      to my summons.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; said Hannah, who guessed at the meaning though she did not
+      understand the words, &ldquo;you wouldn't have me dirty the door-handle with me
+      doughy hands?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That could easily be remedied by ablution.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There ain't any ablution in the house,&rdquo; said the mystified Hannah.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean,&rdquo; Squire Newcome condescended to explain, &ldquo;the application of
+      water&mdash;in short, washing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shure,&rdquo; said Hannah, as light broke in upon her mind, &ldquo;I never knew that
+      was what they called it before.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is Ben-ja-min at home?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir. He was out playin' in the yard a minute ago. I guess you can
+      see him from the winder.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So saying she stepped forward, and looking out, all at once gave a shrill
+      scream, and rushed from the room, leaving her employer in his bolt-upright
+      attitude gazing after her with as much astonishment as he was capable of.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The cause of her sudden exit was revealed on looking out of the window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Master Benjamin, or Ben, as he was called everywhere except in his own
+      family, had got possession of the black kitten, and appeared to be
+      submerging her in the hogshead of rainwater.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O, you wicked, cruel boy, to drown poor Kitty!&rdquo; exclaimed the indignant
+      Hannah, rushing into the yard and endeavoring to snatch her feline
+      favorite&mdash;an attempt which Ben stoutly resisted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Doubtless the poor kitten would have fared badly between the two, had not
+      the window opened, and the deliberate voice of his father, called out in
+      tones which Ben saw fit to heed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come into my presence immejiately, and learn to answer me with more
+      respect.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ben came in looking half defiant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His father, whose perpendicularity made him look like a sitting grenadier,
+      commenced the examination thus:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish you to inform me what you was a doing of when I spoke to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It will be observed that the Squire's dignified utterances were sometimes
+      a little at variance with the rule of the best modern grammarians.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was trying to prevent Hannah from taking the kitten,&rdquo; said Ben.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What was you a doing of before Hannah went out?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Playing with Kitty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why were you standing near the hogshead, Benjamin?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why,&rdquo; said Ben, ingenuously, &ldquo;the hogshead happened to be near me&mdash;that
+      was all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Were you not trying to drown the kitten?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O, I wouldn't drown her for anything,&rdquo; said Ben with an injured
+      expression, mentally adding, &ldquo;short of a three-cent piece.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, to repeat my interrogatory, what was you a doing of with the kitten
+      in the hogshead?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was teaching her to swim,&rdquo; said Ben, looking out of the corner of his
+      eye at his father, to see what impression this explanation made upon him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what advantageous result do you think would be brought about by
+      teaching of the kitten to swim, Benjamin?&rdquo; persisted his father.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Advantageous result!&rdquo; repeated Ben, demurely, pretending not to
+      understand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certingly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What does that mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you not study your dictionary at school, Benjamin?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but I don't like it much.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very much in error. You will never learn to employ your tongue
+      with elegance and precision, unless you engage in this beneficial study.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can use my tongue well enough, without studying grammar,&rdquo; said Ben. He
+      proceeded to illustrate the truth of this assertion by twisting his tongue
+      about in a comical manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tongue,&rdquo; exclaimed his father, &ldquo;is but another name for language I mean
+      your native language.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ben was about to leave the room to avoid further questions of an
+      embarrassing nature, when his father interrupted his exit by saying&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stay, Benjamin, do not withdraw till I have made all the inquiries which
+      I intend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The boy unwillingly returned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have not answered my question.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've forgotten what it was.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What good would it do?&rdquo; asked the Squire, simplifying his speech to reach
+      Ben's comprehension, &ldquo;what good would it do to teach the kitten to swim?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O, I thought,&rdquo; said Ben, hesitating, &ldquo;that some time or other she might
+      happen to fall into the water, and might not be able to get out unless she
+      knew how.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think,&rdquo; said his father with an unusual display of sagacity, &ldquo;that she
+      will be in much greater hazard of drowning while learning to swim under
+      your direction than by any other chance likely to befall her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shouldn't wonder,&rdquo; was Ben's mental comment, &ldquo;Pretty cute for you, dad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fortunately, Ben did not express his thoughts aloud. They would have
+      implied such an utter lack of respect that the Squire would have been
+      quite overwhelmed by the reflection that his impressive manners had
+      produced no greater effect on one who had so excellent a chance of being
+      impressed by them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Benjamin,&rdquo; concluded his father, &ldquo;I have an errand for you to execute.
+      You may go to Mr. Prescott's and see if he is yet living. I hear that he
+      is a lying on the brink of the grave.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      An expression of sadness stole over the usually merry face of Ben, as he
+      started on his errand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor Paul!&rdquo; he thought, &ldquo;what will he do when his father dies? He's such
+      a capital fellow, too. I just wish I had a wagon load of money, I do, and
+      I'd give him half. That's so!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      II.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      PAUL PRESCOTT'S HOME.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      We will precede Ben on his visit to the house of Mr. Prescott.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was an old weather-beaten house, of one story, about half a mile
+      distant from 'Squire Newcome's residence. The Prescott family had lived
+      here for five years, or ever since they had removed to Wrenville. Until
+      within a year they had lived comfortably, when two blows came in quick
+      succession. The first was the death of Mrs. Prescott, an excellent woman,
+      whose loss was deeply felt by her husband and son. Soon afterwards Mr.
+      Prescott, a carpenter by trade, while at work upon the roof of a high
+      building, fell off, and not only broke his leg badly, but suffered some
+      internal injury of a still more serious nature. He had not been able to do
+      a stroke of work since. After some months it became evident that he would
+      never recover. A year had now passed. During this time his expenses had
+      swallowed up the small amount which he had succeeded in laying up previous
+      to his sickness. It was clear that at his death there would be nothing
+      left. At thirteen years of age Paul would have to begin the world without
+      a penny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Prescott lay upon a bed in a small bedroom adjoining the kitchen.
+      Paul, a thoughtful-looking boy sat beside it, ready to answer his call.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There had been silence for some time, when Mr. Prescott called feebly&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Paul!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am here, father,&rdquo; said Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am almost gone, Paul, I don't think I shall last through the day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O, father,&rdquo; said Paul, sorrowfully, &ldquo;Don't leave me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is the only grief I have in dying&mdash;I must leave you to struggle
+      for yourself, Paul. I shall be able to leave you absolutely nothing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't think of that, father. I am young and strong&mdash;I can earn my
+      living in some way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hoped to live long enough to give you an education. I wanted you to
+      have a fairer start in the world than I had.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind, father,&rdquo; said Paul, soothingly, &ldquo;Don't be uneasy about me.
+      God will provide for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Again there was a silence, broken only by the difficult breathing of the
+      sick man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He spoke again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is one thing, Paul, that I want to tell you before I die.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul drew closer to the bedside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is something which has troubled me as I lay here. I shall feel easier
+      for speaking of it. You remember that we lived at Cedarville before we
+      came here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About two years before we left there, a promising speculation was brought
+      to my notice. An agent of a Lake Superior mine visited our village and
+      represented the mine in so favorable a light that many of my neighbors
+      bought shares, fully expecting to double their money in a year. Among the
+      rest I was attacked with the fever of speculation. I had always been
+      obliged to work hard for a moderate compensation, and had not been able to
+      do much more than support my family. This it seemed to me, afforded an
+      excellent opportunity of laying up a little something which might render
+      me secure in the event of a sudden attack of sickness. I had but about two
+      hundred dollars, however, and from so scanty an investment I could not, of
+      course, expect a large return; accordingly I went to Squire Conant; you
+      remember him, Paul?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      'I went to him and asked a loan of five hundred dollars. After some
+      hesitation he agreed to lend it to me. He was fond of his money and not
+      much given to lending, but it so happened that he had invested in the same
+      speculation, and had a high opinion of it, so he felt pretty safe in
+      advancing me the money. Well, this loan gave me seven hundred dollars,
+      with which I purchased seven shares in the Lake Superior Grand Combination
+      Mining Company. For some months afterwards, I felt like a rich man. I
+      carefully put away my certificate of stock, looking upon it as the
+      beginning of a competence. But at the end of six months the bubble burst&mdash;the
+      stock proved to be utterly worthless,&mdash;Squire Conant lost five
+      thousand dollars. I lost seven hundred, five hundred being borrowed money.
+      The Squire's loss was much larger, but mine was the more serious, since I
+      lost everything and was plunged into debt, while he had at least forty
+      thousand dollars left.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Two days after the explosion, Squire Conant came into my shop and asked
+      abruptly when I could pay him the amount I had borrowed. I told him that I
+      could not fix a time. I said that I had been overwhelmed by a result so
+      contrary to my anticipations, but I told him I would not rest till I had
+      done something to satisfy his claim. He was always an unreasonable man,
+      and reproached me bitterly for sinking his money in a useless speculation,
+      as if I could foresee how it would end any better than he.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you ever been able to pay back any part of the five hundred dollars,
+      father?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have paid the interest regularly, and a year ago, just before I met
+      with my accident, I had laid up a hundred and fifty dollars which I had
+      intended to pay the Squire, but when my sickness came I felt obliged to
+      retain it to defray our expenses, being cut off from earning anything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I suppose you have not been able to pay interest for the last year.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you heard from the Squire lately?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I had a letter only last week. You remember bringing me one
+      postmarked Cedarville?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I wondered at the time who it could be from.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will find it on the mantelpiece. I should like to have you get it and
+      read it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul readily found the letter. It was enclosed in a brown envelope,
+      directed in a bold hand to &ldquo;Mr. John Prescott, Wrenville.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The letter was as follows:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      CEDARVILLE, APRIL 15, 18&mdash;, MR. JOHN PRESCOTT:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      SIR: I have been waiting impatiently to hear something about the five
+      hundred dollars in which sum you are indebted to me, on account of a loan
+      which I was fool enough to make you seven years since. I thought you an
+      honest man, but I have found, to my cost, that I was mistaken. For the
+      last year you have even failed to pay interest as stipulated between us.
+      Your intention is evident. I quite understand that you have made up your
+      mind to defraud me of what is rightfully mine. I don't know how you may
+      regard this, but I consider it as bad as highway robbery. I do not
+      hesitate to say that if you had your deserts you would be in the
+      Penitentiary. Let me advise you, if you wish to avoid further trouble, to
+      make no delay in paying a portion of this debt. Yours, etc. EZEKIEL
+      CONANT.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul's face flushed with indignation as he read this bitter and cruel
+      letter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does Squire Conant know that you are sick, father?&rdquo; he inquired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I wrote him about my accident, telling him at the same time that I
+      regretted it in part on account of the interruption which it must occasion
+      in my payments.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And knowing this, he wrote such a letter as that,&rdquo; said Paul,
+      indignantly, &ldquo;what a hard, unfeeling wretch he must be!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose it is vexatious to him to be kept out of his money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he has plenty more. He would never miss it if he had given it to you
+      outright.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is not the way to look at it, Paul. The money is justly his, and it
+      is a great sorrow to me that I must die without paying it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Father,&rdquo; said Paul, after a pause, &ldquo;will it be any relief to you, if I
+      promise to pay it,&mdash;that is, if I am ever able?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Prescott's face brightened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was what I wanted to ask you, Paul. It will be a comfort to me to
+      feel that there is some hope of the debt being paid at some future day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then don't let it trouble you any longer, father. The debt shall be mine,
+      and I will pay it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Again a shadow passed over the sick man's face, &ldquo;Poor boy,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;why
+      should I burden your young life with such a load? You will have to
+      struggle hard enough as it is. No, Paul, recall your promise. I don't want
+      to purchase comfort at such a price.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, father,&rdquo; said Paul sturdily, &ldquo;it is too late now. I have made the
+      promise and I mean to stick to it. Besides, it will give me something to
+      live for. I am young&mdash;I may have a great many years before me. For
+      thirteen years you have supported me. It is only right that I should make
+      what return I can. I'll keep my promise, father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May God help and prosper you, my boy,&rdquo; said Mr. Prescott, solemnly.
+      &ldquo;You've been a good son; I pray that you may grow up to be a good man.
+      But, my dear, I feel tired. I think I will try to go to sleep.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul smoothed the comforter, adjusting it carefully about his father's
+      neck, and going to the door went out in search of some wood to place upon
+      the fire. Their scanty stock of firewood was exhausted, and Paul was
+      obliged to go into the woods near by, to obtain such loose fagots as he
+      might find upon the ground.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was coming back with his load when his attention was drawn by a
+      whistle. Looking up he discovered Ben Newcome approaching him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How are you, Paul?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pretty well, Ben.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How precious lonesome you must be, mewed up in the house all the time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, it is lonesome, but I wouldn't mind that if I thought father would
+      ever get any better.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How is he this morning?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pretty low; I expect he is asleep. He said he was tired just before I
+      went out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I brought over something for you,&rdquo; said Ben, tugging away at his pocket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Opening a paper he displayed a couple of apple turnovers fried brown.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I found 'em in the closet,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Won't Hannah make a precious row when she finds 'em gone?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I don't know as I ought to take them,&rdquo; said Paul, though, to tell
+      the truth, they looked tempting to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O, nonsense,&rdquo; said Ben; &ldquo;they don't belong to Hannah. She only likes to
+      scold a little; it does her good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The two boys sat on the doorstep and talked while Paul ate the turnovers.
+      Ben watched the process with much satisfaction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ain't they prime?&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;First rate,&rdquo; said Paul; &ldquo;won't you have one?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Ben; &ldquo;you see I thought while I was about it I might as well
+      take four, so I ate two coming along.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In about fifteen minutes Paul went into the house to look at his father.
+      He was lying very quietly upon the bed. Paul drew near and looked at him
+      more closely. There was something in the expression of his father's face
+      which terrified him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ben heard his sudden cry of dismay, and hurriedly entered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul pointed to the bed, and said briefly, &ldquo;Father's dead!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ben, who in spite of his mischievous propensities was gifted with a warm
+      heart, sat down beside Paul, and passing his arm round his neck, gave him
+      that silent sympathy which is always so grateful to the grief-stricken
+      heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      III.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      PAUL'S BRILLIANT PROSPECTS.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Two days later, the funeral of Mr. Prescott took place.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Poor Paul! It seemed to him a dream of inexpressible sorrow. His father
+      and mother both gone, he felt that he was indeed left alone in the world.
+      No thought of the future had yet entered his mind. He was wholly occupied
+      with his present sorrow. Desolate at heart he slipped away from the
+      graveyard after the funeral ceremony was over, and took his way back again
+      to the lonely dwelling which he had called home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he was sitting in the corner, plunged in sorrowful thought, there was a
+      scraping heard at the door, and a loud hem!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Looking up, Paul saw entering the cottage the stiff form of Squire
+      Benjamin Newcome, who, as has already been stated, was the owner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Paul,&rdquo; said the Squire, with measured deliberation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you mean me, sir?&rdquo; asked Paul, vaguely conscious that his name had
+      been called.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did I not address you by your baptismal appellation?&rdquo; demanded the
+      Squire, who thought the boy's question superfluous.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Paul,&rdquo; pursued Squire Newcome, &ldquo;have you thought of your future
+      destination?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir,&rdquo; said Paul, &ldquo;I suppose I shall live here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That arrangement would not be consistent with propriety. I suppose you
+      are aware that your deceased parent left little or no worldly goods.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know he was poor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Therefore it has been thought best that you should be placed in charge of
+      a worthy man, who I see is now approaching the house. You will therefore
+      accompany him without resistance. If you obey him and read the Bible
+      regularly, you will&mdash;ahem!&mdash;you will some time or other see the
+      advantage of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With this consolatory remark Squire Newcome wheeled about and strode out
+      of the house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Immediately afterwards there entered a rough-looking man arrayed in a
+      farmer's blue frock.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're to come with me, youngster,&rdquo; said Mr. Nicholas Mudge, for that was
+      his name.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With you?&rdquo; said Paul, recoiling instinctively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In fact there was nothing attractive in the appearance or manners of Mr.
+      Mudge. He had a coarse hard face, while his head was surmounted by a shock
+      of red hair, which to all appearance had suffered little interference from
+      the comb for a time which the observer would scarcely venture to compute.
+      There was such an utter absence of refinement about the man, that Paul,
+      who had been accustomed to the gentle manners of his father, was repelled
+      by the contrast which this man exhibited.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To be sure you're to go with me,&rdquo; said Mr. Mudge. &ldquo;You did not calc'late
+      you was a goin' to stay here by yourself, did you? We've got a better
+      place for you than that. But the wagon's waitin' outside, so just be
+      lively and bundle in, and I'll carry you to where you're a goin' to live.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where's that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wal, some folks call it the Poor House, but it ain't any the worse for
+      that, I expect. Anyhow, them as has no money may feel themselves lucky to
+      get so good a home. So jest be a movin', for I can't be a waitin' here all
+      day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul quietly submitted himself to the guidance of Mr. Mudge. He was so
+      occupied with the thought of his sad loss that he did not realize the
+      change that was about to take place in his circumstances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      About half a mile from the village in the bleakest and most desolate part
+      of the town, stood the Poor House. It was a crazy old building of extreme
+      antiquity, which, being no longer considered fit for an ordinary
+      dwelling-house, had been selected as a suitable residence for the town's
+      poor. It was bleak and comfortless to be sure, but on that very account
+      had been purchased at a trifling expense, and that was, of course, a
+      primary consideration. Connected with the house were some dozen acres of
+      rough-looking land, plentifully overspread with stones, which might have
+      filled with despair the most enterprising agriculturist. However, it had
+      this recommendation at least, that it was quite in character with the
+      buildings upon it, which in addition to the house already described,
+      consisted of a barn of equal antiquity and a pig pen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This magnificent domain was under the superintendence of Mr. Nicholas
+      Mudge, who in consideration of taking charge of the town paupers had the
+      use of the farm and buildings, rent free, together with a stipulated
+      weekly sum for each of the inmates.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Paul,&rdquo; said Mr. Mudge, as they approached the house, in a tone
+      which was meant to be encouraging, &ldquo;this is goin' to be your home. How do
+      you like it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus addressed, Paul ventured a glance around him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; said he, doubtfully; &ldquo;it don't look very pleasant.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't look very pleasant!&rdquo; repeated Mr. Mudge in a tone of mingled
+      amazement and indignation. &ldquo;Well, there's gratitude for you. After the
+      town has been at the expense of providin' a nice, comfortable home for
+      you, because you haven't got any of your own, you must turn up your nose
+      at it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I didn't mean to complain,&rdquo; said Paul, feeling very little interest in
+      the matter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps you expected to live in a marble palace,&rdquo; pursued Mr. Mudge, in
+      an injured tone. &ldquo;We don't have any marble palaces in this neighborhood,
+      we don't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul disclaimed any such anticipation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Mudge deigned to accept Paul's apology, and as they had now reached
+      the door, unceremoniously threw it open, and led the way into a room with
+      floor unpainted, which, to judge from its appearance, was used as a
+      kitchen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      IV.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      LIFE IN A NEW PHASE.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Everything was &ldquo;at sixes and sevens,&rdquo; as the saying is, in the room Mr.
+      Mudge and Paul had just entered. In the midst of the scene was a large
+      stout woman, in a faded calico dress, and sleeves rolled up, working as if
+      her life or the world's destiny depended upon it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was evident from the first words of Mr. Mudge that this lady was his
+      helpmeet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, wife,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I've brought you another boarder. You must try to
+      make him as happy and contented as the rest of 'em are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      From the tone of the speaker, the last words might be understood to be
+      jocular.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Mudge, whose style of beauty was not improved by a decided squint,
+      fixed a scrutinizing gaze upon Paul, and he quite naturally returned it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Haven't you ever seen anybody before, boy? I guess you'll know me next
+      time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shouldn't wonder if he did,&rdquo; chuckled Mr. Mudge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know where on earth we shall put him,&rdquo; remarked the lady. &ldquo;We're
+      full now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, put him anywhere. I suppose you won't be very particular about your
+      accommodations?&rdquo; said Mr. Mudge turning to Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul very innocently answered in the negative, thereby affording Mr. Mudge
+      not a little amusement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, that's lucky,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;because our best front chamber's occupied
+      just now. We'd have got it ready for you if you'd only wrote a week ago to
+      tell us you were coming. You can just stay round here,&rdquo; he said in a
+      different tone as he was about leaving the room, &ldquo;Mrs. Mudge will maybe
+      want you to do something for her. You can sit down till she calls on you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was washing day with Mrs. Mudge, and of course she was extremely busy.
+      The water was to be brought from a well in the yard, and to this office
+      Paul was at once delegated. It was no easy task, the full pails tugging
+      most unmercifully at his arms. However, this was soon over, and Mrs. Mudge
+      graciously gave him permission to go into the adjoining room, and make
+      acquaintance with his fellow-boarders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There were nine of them in all, Paul, the newcomer making the tenth. They
+      were all advanced in years, except one young woman, who was prevented by
+      mental aberration from supporting herself outside the walls of the
+      Institution.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Of all present, Paul's attention was most strongly attracted towards one
+      who appeared more neatly and scrupulously attired than any of the rest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Aunt Lucy Lee, or plain Aunt Lucy, for in her present abode she had small
+      use for her last name, was a benevolent-looking old lady, who both in
+      dress and manners was distinguished from her companions. She rose from her
+      knitting, and kindly took Paul by the hand. Children are instinctive
+      readers of character, and Paul, after one glance at her benevolent face,
+      seated himself contentedly beside her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose,&rdquo; said the old lady, socially, &ldquo;you've come to live with us. We
+      must do all we can to make you comfortable. Your name is Paul Prescott, I
+      think Mrs. Mudge said.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, ma'am,&rdquo; answered Paul, watching the rapid movement of the old lady's
+      fingers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mine is Aunt Lucy,&rdquo; she continued, &ldquo;that is what everybody calls me. So
+      now we know each other, and shall soon be good friends, I hope. I suppose
+      you have hardly been here long enough to tell how you shall like it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul confessed that thus far he did not find it very pleasant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I dare say not,&rdquo; said Aunt Lucy, &ldquo;I can't say I think it looks very
+      attractive myself. However, it isn't wholly the fault of Mr. and Mrs.
+      Mudge. They can't afford to do much better, for the town allows them very
+      little.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Aunt Lucy's remarks were here interrupted by the apparition of the worthy
+      landlady at the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dinner's ready, folks,&rdquo; said that lady, with little ceremony, &ldquo;and you
+      must come out quick if you want any, for I'm drove with work, and can't be
+      hindered long.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The summons was obeyed with alacrity, and the company made all haste to
+      the dining-room, or rather the kitchen, for it was here that the meals
+      were eaten.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the center of the room was set a table without a cloth, a table-cloth
+      being considered a luxury quite superfluous. Upon this were placed several
+      bowls of thin, watery liquid, intended for soup, but which, like city
+      milk, was diluted so as hardly to be distinguishable. Beside each bowl was
+      a slice of bread.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Such was the bill of fare.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, folks, the sooner you fall to the better,&rdquo; exclaimed the energetic
+      Mrs. Mudge, who was one of those driving characters, who consider any time
+      spent at the table beyond ten minutes as so much time wasted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The present company appeared to need no second invitation. Their scanty
+      diet had the positive advantage of giving them a good appetite; otherwise
+      the quality of their food might have daunted them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul took his place beside Aunt Lucy. Mechanically he did as the rest,
+      carrying to his mouth a spoonful of the liquid. But his appetite was not
+      sufficiently accustomed to Poor House regime to enable him to relish its
+      standing dish, and he laid down his spoon with a disappointed look.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He next attacked the crust of bread, but found it too dry to be palatable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please, ma'am,&rdquo; said he to Mrs. Mudge, &ldquo;I should like some butter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul's companions dropped their spoons in astonishment at his daring, and
+      Mrs. Mudge let fall a kettle she was removing from the fire, in sheer
+      amazement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What did you ask for?&rdquo; she inquired, as if to make sure that her ears did
+      not deceive her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A little butter,&rdquo; repeated Paul, unconscious of the great presumption of
+      which he had been guilty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You want butter, do you?&rdquo; repeated Mr. Mudge. &ldquo;Perhaps you'd like a slice
+      of beefsteak and a piece of plum-pudding too, wouldn't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should very much,&rdquo; said Paul, resolved to tell the truth, although he
+      now began to perceive the sarcasm in his landlady's tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There isn't anything more you would like, is there?&rdquo; inquired the lady,
+      with mock politeness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, ma'am,&rdquo; returned Paul after a pause, &ldquo;I believe not, to-day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very moderate, upon my word,&rdquo; exclaimed Mrs. Mudge, giving vent at length
+      to her pentup indignation. &ldquo;You'll be contented with butter and roast beef
+      and plum-pudding! A mighty fine gentleman, to be sure. But you won't get
+      them here, I'll be bound.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So will I,&rdquo; thought Aunt Lucy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you ain't satisfied with what I give you,&rdquo; pursued Mrs. Mudge, &ldquo;you'd
+      better go somewhere else. You can put up at some of the great hotels.
+      Butter, forsooth!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Having thus given expression to her feelings, she left the room, and Paul
+      was left to finish his dinner with the best appetite he could command. He
+      was conscious that he had offended Mrs. Mudge, but the thoughts of his
+      recent great sorrow swallowed up all minor annoyances, so that the words
+      of his estimable landlady were forgotten almost as soon as they were
+      uttered. He felt that he must henceforth look for far different treatment
+      from that to which he had been accustomed during his father's lifetime.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His thoughts were interrupted in a manner somewhat ludicrous, by the crazy
+      girl who sat next to him coolly appropriating to herself his bowl of soup,
+      having already disposed of her own.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look,&rdquo; said Aunt Lucy, quickly, calling Paul's attention, &ldquo;you are losing
+      your dinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind,&rdquo; said Paul, amused in spite of his sadness, &ldquo;she is quite
+      welcome to it if she likes it; I can't eat it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So the dinner began and ended. It was very brief and simple, occupying
+      less than ten minutes, and comprising only one course&mdash;unless the
+      soup was considered the first course, and the bread the second. Paul left
+      the table as hungry as he came to it. Aunt Lucy's appetite had become
+      accustomed to the Mudge diet, and she wisely ate what was set before her,
+      knowing that there was no hope of anything better.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      About an hour after dinner Ben Newcome came to the door of the Poor House
+      and inquired for Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Mudge was in one of her crusty moods.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can't see him,&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And why not?&rdquo; said Ben, resolutely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because he's busy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'd better let me see him,&rdquo; said Ben, sturdily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like to know what's going to happen if I don't,&rdquo; said Mrs.
+      Mudge, with wrathful eyes, and arms akimbo.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall go home and report to my father,&rdquo; said Ben, coolly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is your father?&rdquo; asked Mrs. Mudge, for she did not recognize her
+      visitor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My father's name is Newcome&mdash;Squire Newcome, some call him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Now it so happened that Squire Newcome was Chairman of the Overseers of
+      the Poor, and in that capacity might remove Mr. Mudge from office if he
+      pleased. Accordingly Mrs. Mudge softened down at once, on learning that
+      Ben was his son.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;I didn't know who it was. I thought it might be some idle
+      boy from the village who would only take Paul from his work, but if you
+      have a message from your father&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This she said to ascertain whether he really had any message or not, but
+      Ben, who had in fact come without his father's knowledge, only bowed, and
+      said, in a patronizing manner, &ldquo;I accept your apology, Mrs. Mudge. Will
+      you have the goodness to send Paul out?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Won't you step in?&rdquo; asked Mrs. Mudge with unusual politeness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I believe not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul was accordingly sent out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was very glad to meet his schoolmate and playfellow, Ben, who by his
+      gayety, spiced though it was with roguery, had made himself a general
+      favorite in school.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say, Paul,&rdquo; said Ben, &ldquo;I'm sorry to find you in such a place.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It isn't very pleasant,&rdquo; said Paul, rather soberly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And that woman&mdash;Mrs. Mudge&mdash;she looks as if she might be a
+      regular spitfire, isn't she?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rather so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I only wish the old gentleman&mdash;meaning of course, the Squire&mdash;would
+      take you to live with me. I want a fellow to play with. But I say, Paul,
+      go and get your hat, and we'll go out for a walk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know what Mrs. Mudge will say,&rdquo; said Paul, who had just come from
+      turning the handle of a churn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just call Mrs. Mudge, and I'll manage it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Mudge being summoned, made her appearance at the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I presume, ma'am,&rdquo; said Ben, confidently, &ldquo;you will have no objection to
+      Paul's taking a walk with me while I deliver the message I am entrusted
+      with.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; said Mrs. Mudge, rather unwillingly, but not venturing to
+      refuse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It takes me to come it over the old lady,&rdquo; said Ben, when they were out
+      of hearing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, we'll go a fishing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      V.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      A CRISIS.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Before sunrise the next morning Paul was awakened by a rude shake from Mr.
+      Mudge, with an intimation that he had better get up, as there was plenty
+      of work before him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By the light of the lantern, for as yet it was too dark to dispense with
+      it, Paul dressed himself. Awakened from a sound sleep, he hardly had time
+      to collect his thoughts, and it was with a look of bewilderment that he
+      surveyed the scene about him. As Mrs. Mudge had said, they were pretty
+      full already, and accordingly a rude pallet had been spread for him in the
+      attic, of which, with the exception of nocturnal marauders, he was the
+      only occupant. Paul had not, to be sure, been used to very superior
+      accommodations, and if the bed had not been quite so hard, he would have
+      got along very well. As it was he was separated from slats only by a thin
+      straw bed which did not improve matters much. It was therefore with a
+      sense of weariness which slumber had not dissipated, that Paul arose at
+      the summons of Mr. Mudge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he reached the kitchen, he found that gentleman waiting for him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know how to milk?&rdquo; was his first salutation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never learned,&rdquo; said Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you'll have to, in double-quick time,&rdquo; was the reply, &ldquo;for I don't
+      relish getting up so early, and you can take it off my hands.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The two proceeded to the barn, where Paul received his first lesson in
+      this important branch of education.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Mudge kept five cows. One might have thought he could have afforded a
+      moderate supply of milk to his boarders, but all, with the exception of a
+      single quart, was sold to the milkman who passed the door every morning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After breakfast, which was on the same economical plan with the dinner of
+      the day previous, Paul was set to work planting potatoes, at which he was
+      kept steadily employed till the dinner-hour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Poor Paul! his back ached dreadfully, for he had never before done any
+      harder work than trifling services for his father. But the inexorable Mr.
+      Mudge was in sight, and however much he wished, he did not dare to lay
+      aside his hoe even for a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Twelve o'clock found him standing beside the dinner-table. He ate more
+      heartily than before, for his forenoon's labor made even poorhouse fare
+      palatable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Mudge observed the change, and remarked in a satisfied tone. &ldquo;Well,
+      my fine gentleman, I see you are coming to your appetite. I thought you
+      wouldn't hold out long.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul, who had worn off something of his diffidence, could not help feeling
+      indignant at this speech; unaccustomed to be addressed in this way, the
+      taunt jarred upon his feelings, but he only bit his lip and preserved
+      silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Aunt Lucy, too, who had come to feel a strong interest in Paul, despite
+      her natural mildness, could not resist the temptation of saying with some
+      warmth, &ldquo;what's the use of persecuting the child? He has sorrows enough of
+      his own without your adding to them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Mudge was not a little incensed at this remonstrance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like to know, ma'am, who requested you to put in your oar!&rdquo; she
+      said with arms akimbo. &ldquo;Anybody wouldn't think from your lofty airs that
+      you lived in the poorhouse; I'll thank you to mind your own business in
+      the future, and not meddle with what don't concern you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Aunt Lucy was wise enough to abstain from provoking further the wrath of
+      her amiable landlady, and continued to eat her soup in silence. But Mrs.
+      Mudge neer forgot this interference, nor the cause of it, and henceforth
+      with the malignity of a narrow-minded and spiteful woman, did what she
+      could to make Paul uncomfortable. Her fertile ingenuity always found some
+      new taunt, or some new reproach, to assail him with. But Paul, though at
+      first he felt indignant, learned at last to treat them as they deserved,
+      with silent disdain. Assured of the sympathy of those around him, he did
+      not allow his appetite to be spoiled by any remark which Mrs. Mudge might
+      offer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This, of course, only provoked her the more, and she strove to have his
+      daily tasks increased, in the amiable hope that his &ldquo;proud spirit&rdquo; might
+      be tamed thereby.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Mudge, who was somewhat under petticoat government, readily acceded to
+      his wife's wishes, and henceforth Paul's strength was taxed to its utmost
+      limit. He was required to be up with the first gray tint of dawn and
+      attend to the cattle. From this time until night, except the brief time
+      devoted to his meals, he was incessantly occupied. Aunt Lucy's society,
+      his chief comfort, was thus taken from him; since, in order to rise early,
+      he was obliged to go to bed as soon as possible after day's work was
+      finished.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The effects of such incessant labor without a sufficient supply of
+      nourishing food, may easily be imagined. The dry bread and meagre soup
+      which constituted the chief articles of diet in Mrs. Mudge's economical
+      household, had but one recommendation,&mdash;they were effectual
+      preventives of gluttony. It was reported that on one occasion a beggar,
+      apparently famishing with hunger, not knowing the character of the house,
+      made application at the door for food. In an unusual fit of generosity,
+      Mrs. Mudge furnished him with a slice of bread and a bowl of soup, which,
+      however, proved so far from tempting that the beggar, hungry as he was,
+      left them almost untouched.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One day, as Paul was working in the field at a little distance from Mr.
+      Mudge, he became conscious of a peculiar feeling of giddiness which
+      compelled him to cling to the hoe for support,&mdash;otherwise he must
+      have fallen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No laziness there,&rdquo; exclaimed Mr. Mudge, observing Paul's cessation from
+      labor, &ldquo;We can't support you in idleness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But the boy paid no regard to this admonition, and Mr. Mudge, somewhat
+      surprised, advanced toward him to enforce the command.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Even he was startled at the unusual paleness of Paul's face, and inquired
+      in a less peremptory tone, &ldquo;what's the matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I feel sick,&rdquo; gasped Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Without another word, Mr. Mudge took Paul up in his arms and carried him
+      into the house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the matter, now?&rdquo; asked his wife, meeting him at the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The boy feels a little sick, but I guess he'll get over it by-and by.
+      Haven't you got a little soup that you can give him? I reckon he's faint,
+      and that'll brighten him up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul evidently did not think so, for he motioned away a bowl of the
+      delightful mixture, though it was proffered him by the fair hands of Mrs.
+      Mudge. The lady was somewhat surprised, and said, roughly, &ldquo;I shouldn't
+      wonder if he was only trying to shirk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was too much even for Mr. Mudge; &ldquo;The boy's sick,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;that's
+      plain enough; if he don't get better soon, I must send for the doctor, for
+      work drives, and I can't spare him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's no more danger of his being sick than mine,&rdquo; said Mrs. Mudge,
+      emphatically; &ldquo;however, if you're fool enough to go for a doctor, that's
+      none of my business. I've heard of feigning sickness before now, to get
+      rid of work. As to his being pale, I've been as pale as that myself
+      sometimes without your troubling yourself very much about me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Twon't be any expense to us,&rdquo; alleged Mr. Mudge, in a tone of
+      justification, for he felt in some awe of his wife's temper, which was
+      none of the mildest when a little roused, &ldquo;'Twon't be any expense to us;
+      the town has got to pay for it, and as long as it will get him ready for
+      work sooner, we might as well take advantage of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This consideration somewhat reconciled Mrs. Mudge to the step proposed,
+      and as Paul, instead of getting better, grew rapidly worse, Mr. Mudge
+      thought it expedient to go immediately for the village physician. Luckily
+      Dr. Townsend was at home, and an hour afterwards found him standing beside
+      the sick boy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know but you'll think it rather foolish, our sending for you,
+      doctor,&rdquo; said Mrs. Mudge, &ldquo;but Mudge would have it that the boy was sick
+      and so he went for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And he did quite right,&rdquo; said Dr. Townsend, noticing the ghastly pallor
+      of Paul's face. &ldquo;He is a very sick boy, and if I had not been called I
+      would not have answered for the consequences. How do you feel, my boy?&rdquo; he
+      inquired of Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I feel very weak, and my head swims,&rdquo; was the reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How and when did this attack come on?&rdquo; asked the doctor, turning to Mr.
+      Mudge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He was taken while hoeing in the field,&rdquo; was the reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you kept him at work much there lately?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, yes, I've been drove by work, and he has worked there all day
+      latterly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At what time has he gone to work in the morning?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has got up to milk the cows about five o'clock. I used to do it, but
+      since he has learned, I have indulged myself a little.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would have been well for him if he had enjoyed the same privilege. It
+      is my duty to speak plainly. The sickness of this boy lies at your door.
+      He has never been accustomed to hard labor, and yet you have obliged him
+      to rise earlier and work later than most men. No wonder he feels weak. Has
+      he a good appetite?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, rather middlin',&rdquo; said Mrs. Mudge, &ldquo;but it's mainly because he's
+      too dainty to eat what's set before him. Why, only the first day he was
+      here he turned up his nose at the bread and soup we had for dinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is this a specimen of the soup?&rdquo; asked Dr. Townsend, taking from the
+      table the bowl which had been proffered to Paul and declined by him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Without ceremony he raised to his lips a spoonful of the soup and tasted
+      it with a wry face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you often have this soup on the table?&rdquo; he asked abruptly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We always have it once a day, and sometimes twice,&rdquo; returned Mrs. Mudge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you call the boy dainty because he don't relish such stuff as this?&rdquo;
+       said the doctor, with an indignation he did not attempt to conceal. &ldquo;Why,
+      I wouldn't be hired to take the contents of that bowl. It is as bad as any
+      of my own medicines, and that's saying a good deal. How much nourishment
+      do you suppose such a mixture would afford? And yet with little else to
+      sustain him you have worked this boy like a beast of burden,&mdash;worse
+      even, for they at least have abundance of GOOD food.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. and Mrs. Mudge both winced under this plain speaking, but they did not
+      dare to give expression to their anger, for they knew well that Dr.
+      Townsend was an influential man in town, and, by representing the affair
+      in the proper quarter, might render their hold upon their present post a
+      very precarious one. Mr. Mudge therefore contented himself with muttering
+      that he guessed he worked as hard as anybody, and he didn't complain of
+      his fare.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I ask you, Mr. Mudge,&rdquo; said the doctor, fixing his penetrating eye
+      full upon him, &ldquo;whether you confine yourself to the food upon which you
+      have kept this boy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Mr. Mudge, in some confusion, moving uneasily in his seat, &ldquo;I
+      can't say but now and then I eat something a little different.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you eat at the same table with the inmates of your house?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, no,&rdquo; said the embarrassed Mr. Mudge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me plainly,&mdash;how often do you partake of this soup?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I aint your patient,&rdquo; said the man, sullenly, &ldquo;Why should you want to
+      know what I eat?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have an object in view. Are you afraid to answer?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know as there's anything to be afraid of. The fact is, I aint
+      partial to soup; it don't agree with me, and so I don't take it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you ever consider that this might be the case with others as well as
+      yourself?&rdquo; inquired the doctor with a glance expressive of his contempt
+      for Mr. Mudge's selfishness. Without waiting for a reply, Dr. Townsend
+      ordered Paul to be put to bed immediately, after which he would leave some
+      medicine for him to take.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Here was another embarrassment for the worthy couple. They hardly knew
+      where to put our hero. It would not do for them to carry him to his pallet
+      in the attic, for they felt sure that this would lead to some more plain
+      speaking on the part of Dr. Townsend. He was accordingly, though with some
+      reluctance, placed in a small bedroom upstairs, which, being more
+      comfortable than those appropriated to the paupers, had been reserved for
+      a son at work in a neighboring town, on his occasional visits home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is there no one in the house who can sit in the chamber and attend to his
+      occasional wants?&rdquo; asked Dr. Townsend. &ldquo;He will need to take his medicine
+      at stated periods, and some one will be required to administer it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's Aunt Lucy Lee,&rdquo; said Mrs. Mudge, &ldquo;she's taken a fancy to the boy,
+      and I reckon she'll do as well as anybody.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No one better,&rdquo; returned the doctor, who well knew Aunt Lucy's kindness
+      of disposition, and was satisfied that she would take all possible care of
+      his patient.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So it was arranged that Aunt Lucy should take her place at Paul's bedside
+      as his nurse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul was sick for many days,&mdash;not dangerously so, but hard work and
+      scanty fare had weakened him to such a degree that exhausted nature
+      required time to recruit its wasted forces. But he was not unhappy or
+      restless. Hour after hour he would lie patiently, and listen to the
+      clicking of her knitting needles. Though not provided with luxurious food,
+      Dr. Townsend had spoken with so much plainness that Mrs. Mudge felt
+      compelled to modify her treatment, lest, through his influence, she with
+      her husband, might lose their situation. This forced forbearance, however,
+      was far from warming her heart towards its object. Mrs. Mudge was a hard,
+      practical woman, and her heart was so encrusted with worldliness and
+      self-interest that she might as well have been without one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One day, as Paul lay quietly gazing at Aunt Lucy's benevolent face, and
+      mentally contrasting it with that of Mrs. Mudge, whose shrill voice could
+      be heard form below, he was seized with a sudden desire to learn something
+      of her past history.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How long have you been here, Aunt Lucy?&rdquo; he inquired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked up from her knitting, and sighed as she answered, &ldquo;A long and
+      weary time to look back upon, Paul. I have been here ten years.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ten years,&rdquo; repeated Paul, thoughtfully, &ldquo;and I am thirteen. So you have
+      been here nearly all my lifetime. Has Mr. Mudge been here all that time?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only the last two years. Before that we had Mrs. Perkins.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did she treat you any better than Mrs. Mudge?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Any better than Mrs. Mudge!&rdquo; vociferated that lady, who had ascended the
+      stairs without being heard by Aunt Lucy of Paul, and had thus caught the
+      last sentence. &ldquo;Any better than Mrs. Mudge!&rdquo; she repeated, thoroughly
+      provoked. &ldquo;So you've been talking about me, you trollop, have you? I'll
+      come up with you, you may depend upon that. That's to pay for my giving
+      you tea Sunday night, is it? Perhaps you'll get some more. It's pretty
+      well in paupers conspiring together because they aint treated like princes
+      and princesses. Perhaps you'd like to got boarded with Queen Victoria.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old lady sat very quiet during this tirade. She had been the subject
+      of similar invective before, and knew that it would do no good to oppose
+      Mrs. Mudge in her present excited state.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't wonder you haven't anything to say,&rdquo; said the infuriated dame. &ldquo;I
+      should think you'd want to hide your face in shame, you trollop.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul was not quite so patient as his attendant. Her kindness had produced
+      such an impression on him, that Mrs. Mudge, by her taunts, stirred up his
+      indignation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She's no more of a trollop than you are,&rdquo; said he, with spirit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Mudge whirled round at this unexpected attack, and shook her fist
+      menacingly at Paul&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So, you've put in your oar, you little jackanapes,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;If you're
+      well enough to be impudent you're well enough to go to work. You aint a
+      goin' to lie here idle much longer, I can tell you. If you deceive Dr.
+      Townsend, and make him believe you're sick, you can't deceive me. No doubt
+      you feel mighty comfortable, lyin' here with nothing to do, while I'm a
+      slavin' myself to death down stairs, waitin' upon you; (this was a slight
+      exaggeration, as Aunt Lucy took the entire charge of Paul, including the
+      preparation of his food;) but you'd better make the most of it, for you
+      won't lie here much longer. You'll miss not bein' able to talk about me,
+      won't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Mudge paused a moment as if expecting an answer to her highly
+      sarcastic question, but Paul felt that no advantage would be gained by
+      saying more.. He was not naturally a quick-tempered buy, and had only been
+      led to this little ebullition by the wanton attack by Mrs. Mudge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This lady, after standing a moment as if defying the twain to a further
+      contest, went out, slamming the door violently after her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You did wrong to provoke her, Paul,&rdquo; said Aunt Lucy, gravely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How could I help it?&rdquo; asked Paul, earnestly. &ldquo;If she had only abused ME,
+      I should not have cared so much, but when she spoke about you, who have
+      been so kind to me, I could not be silent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thank you, Paul, for your kind feeling,&rdquo; said the old lady, gently,
+      &ldquo;but we must learn to bear and forbear. The best of us have our faults and
+      failings.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are yours, Aunt Lucy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O, a great many.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Such as what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid I am sometimes discontented with the station which God has
+      assigned me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think you can be very much to blame for that. I should never
+      learn to be contented here if I lived to the age of Methuselah.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul lay quite still for an hour or more. During that time he formed a
+      determination which will be announced in the next chapter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      VI.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      PAUL'S DETERMINATION
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      At the close of the last chapter it was stated that Paul had come to a
+      determination.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was,&mdash;TO RUN AWAY.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That he had good reason for this we have already seen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was now improving rapidly, and only waited till he was well enough to
+      put his design into execution.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt Lucy,&rdquo; said he one day, &ldquo;I've got something to tell you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old lady looked up inquiringly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's something I've been thinking of a long time,&mdash;at least most of
+      the time since I've been sick. It isn't pleasant for me to stay here, and
+      I've pretty much made up my mind that I sha'n't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where will you go?&rdquo; asked the old lady, dropping her work in surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know of any particular place, but I should be better off most
+      anywhere than here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you are so young, Paul.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;God will take care of me, Aunt Lucy,&mdash;mother used to tell me that.
+      Besides, here I have no hope of learning anything or improving my
+      condition. Then again, if I stay here, I can never do what father wished
+      me to do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is that, Paul?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul told the story of his father's indebtedness to Squire Conant, and the
+      cruel letter which the Squire had written.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean to pay that debt,&rdquo; he concluded firmly. &ldquo;I won't let anybody say
+      that my father kept them out of their money. There is no chance here;
+      somewhere else I may find work and money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a great undertaking for a boy like you, Paul,&rdquo; said Aunt Lucy,
+      thoughtfully. &ldquo;To whom is the money due?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Squire Conant of Cedarville.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Aunt Lucy seemed surprised and agitated by the mention of this name.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Paul,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;Squire Conant is my brother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your brother!&rdquo; repeated he in great surprise. &ldquo;Then why does he allow you
+      to live here? He is rich enough to take care of you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a long story,&rdquo; said the old lady, sadly. &ldquo;All that you will be
+      interested to know is that I married against the wishes of my family. My
+      husband died and I was left destitute. My brother has never noticed me
+      since.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a great shame,&rdquo; said Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We won't judge him, Paul. Have you fixed upon any time to go?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall wait a few days till I get stronger. Can you tell me how far it
+      is to New York?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O, a great distance; a hundred miles at least. You can't think of going
+      so far as that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think it would be the best plan,&rdquo; said Paul. &ldquo;In a great city like New
+      York there must be a great many things to do which I can't do here. I
+      don't feel strong enough to work on a farm. Besides, I don't like it. O,
+      it must be a fine thing to live in a great city. Then too,&rdquo; pursued Paul,
+      his face lighting up with the hopeful confidence of youth, &ldquo;I may become
+      rich. If I do, Aunt Lucy, I will build a fine house, and you shall come
+      and live with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Aunt Lucy had seen more of life than Paul, and was less sanguine. The
+      thought came to her that her life was already declining while his was but
+      just begun, and in the course of nature, even if his bright dreams should
+      be realized, she could hardly hope to live long enough to see it. But of
+      this she said nothing. She would not for the world have dimmed the
+      brightness of his anticipations by the expression of a single doubt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish you all success, Paul, and I thank you for wishing me to share in
+      your good fortune. God helps those who help themselves, and he will help
+      you if you only deserve it. I shall miss you very much when you are gone.
+      It will seem more lonely than ever.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If it were not for you, Aunt Lucy, I should not mind going at all, but I
+      shall be sorry to leave you behind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;God will care for both of us, my dear boy. I shall hope to hear from you
+      now and then, and if I learn that you are prosperous and happy, I shall be
+      better contented with my own lot. But have you thought of all the labor
+      and weariness that you will have to encounter? It is best to consider well
+      all this, before entering upon such an undertaking.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have thought of all that, and if there were any prospect of my being
+      happy here, I might stay for the present. But you know how Mrs. Mudge has
+      treated me, and how she feels towards me now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I acknowledge, Paul, that it has proved a hard apprenticeship, and
+      perhaps it might be made yet harder if you should stay longer. You must
+      let me know when you are going, I shall want to bid you good-by.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No fear that I shall forget that, Aunt Lucy. Next to my mother you have
+      been most kind to me, and I love you for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lightly pressing her lips to Paul's forehead Aunt Lucy left the room to
+      conceal the emotion called forth by his approaching departure. Of all the
+      inmates of the establishment she had felt most closely drawn to the orphan
+      boy, whose loneliness and bereavement had appealed to her woman's heart.
+      This feeling had been strengthened by the care she had been called to
+      bestow upon him in his illness, for it is natural to love those whom we
+      have benefited. But Aunt Lucy was the most unselfish of living creatures,
+      and the idea of dissuading Paul from a course which he felt was right
+      never occurred to her. She determined that she would do what she could to
+      further his plans, now that he had decided to go. Accordingly she
+      commenced knitting him a pair of stockings, knowing that this would prove
+      a useful present. This came near being the means of discovering Paul's
+      plan to Mrs. Mudge The latter, who notwithstanding her numerous duties,
+      managed to see everything that was going on, had her attention directed to
+      Aunt Lucy's work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you finished the stockings that I set you to knitting for Mr.
+      Mudge?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Aunt Lucy, in some confusion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then whose are those, I should like to know? Somebody of more importance
+      than my husband, I suppose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are for Paul,&rdquo; returned the old lady, in some uneasiness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Paul!&rdquo; repeated Mrs. Mudge, in her haste putting a double quantity of
+      salaeratus into the bread she was mixing; &ldquo;Paul's are they? And who asked
+      you to knit him a pair, I should like to be informed?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then what are you doing it for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought he might want them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mighty considerate, I declare. And I shouldn't be at all surprised if you
+      were knitting them with the yarn I gave you for Mr. Mudge's stockings.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are mistaken,&rdquo; said Aunt Lucy, shortly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you're putting on your airs, are you? I'll tell you what, Madam,
+      you'd better put those stockings away in double-quick time, and finish my
+      husband's, or I'll throw them into the fire, and Paul Prescott may wait
+      till he goes barefoot before he gets them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no alternative. Aunt Lucy was obliged to obey, at least while
+      her persecutor was in the room. When alone for any length of time she took
+      out Paul's stockings from under her apron, and worked on them till the
+      approaching steps of Mrs. Mudge warned her to desist.
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      Three days passed. The shadows of twilight were already upon the earth.
+      The paupers were collected in the common room appropriated to their use.
+      Aunt Lucy had suspended her work in consequence of the darkness, for in
+      this economical household a lamp was considered a useless piece of
+      extravagance. Paul crept quietly to her side, and whispered in tones
+      audible to her alone, &ldquo;I AM GOING TO-MORROW.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-morrow! so soon?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Paul, &ldquo;I am as ready now as I shall ever be. I wanted to tell
+      you, because I thought maybe you might like to know that this is the last
+      evening we shall spend together at present.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you go in the morning?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Aunt Lucy, early in the morning. Mr. Mudge usually calls me at five;
+      I must be gone an hour before that time. I suppose I must bid you good-by
+      to-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not to-night, Paul; I shall be up in the morning to see you go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But if Mrs. Mudge finds it out she will abuse you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am used to that, Paul,&rdquo; said Aunt Lucy, with a sorrowful smile. &ldquo;I have
+      borne it many times, and I can again. But I can't lie quiet and let you go
+      without one word of parting. You are quite determined to go?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite, Aunt Lucy. I never could stay here. There is no pleasure in the
+      present, and no hope for the future. I want to see something of life,&rdquo; and
+      Paul's boyish figure dilated with enthusiasm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;God grant that you do not see too much!&rdquo; said Aunt Lucy, half to herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is the world then, so very sad a place?&rdquo; asked Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Both joy and sorrow are mingled in the cup of human life,&rdquo; said Aunt
+      Lucy, solemnly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which shall preponderate it is partly in our power to determine. He who
+      follows the path of duty steadfastly, cannot be wholly miserable, whatever
+      misfortunes may come upon him. He will be sustained by the conviction that
+      his own errors have not brought them upon him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will try to do right,&rdquo; said Paul, placing his hand in that of his
+      companion, &ldquo;and if ever I am tempted to do wrong, I will think of you and
+      of my mother, and that thought shall restrain me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's time to go bed, folks,&rdquo; proclaimed Mrs Mudge, appearing at the door.
+      &ldquo;I can't have you sitting up all night, as I've no doubt you'd like to
+      do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was only eight o'clock, but no one thought of interposing an objection.
+      The word of Mrs. Mudge was law in her household, as even her husband was
+      sometimes made aware.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All quietly rose from their seats and repaired to bed. It was an affecting
+      sight to watch the tottering gait of those on whose heads the snows of
+      many winters had drifted heavily, as they meekly obeyed the behest of one
+      whose coarse nature forbade her sympathizing with them in their clouded
+      age, and many infirmities.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come,&rdquo; said she, impatient of their slow movements, &ldquo;move a little
+      quicker, if it's perfectly convenient. Anybody'd think you'd been hard at
+      work all day, as I have. You're about the laziest set I ever had anything
+      to do with. I've got to be up early in the morning, and can't stay here
+      dawdling.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She's got a sweet temper,&rdquo; said Paul, in a whisper, to Aunt Lucy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush!&rdquo; said the old lady. &ldquo;She may hear you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's that you're whispering about?&rdquo; said Mrs. Mudge, suspiciously.
+      &ldquo;Something you're ashamed to have heard, most likely.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul thought it best to remain silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-morrow morning at four!&rdquo; he whispered to Aunt Lucy, as he pressed her
+      hand in the darkness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      VII.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      PAUL BEGINS HIS JOURNEY.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Paul ascended the stairs to his hard pallet for the last time. For the
+      last time! There is sadness in the thought, even when the future which
+      lies before us glows with brighter colors than the past has ever worn. But
+      to Paul, whose future was veiled in uncertainty, and who was about to part
+      with the only friend who felt an interest in his welfare, this thought
+      brought increased sorrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stood before the dirt-begrimed window through which alone the
+      struggling sunbeams found an inlet into the gloomy little attic, and
+      looked wistfully out upon the barren fields that surrounded the poorhouse.
+      Where would he be on the morrow at that time? He did not know. He knew
+      little or nothing of the great world without, yet his resolution did not
+      for an instant falter. If it had, the thought of Mrs. Mudge would have
+      been enough to remove all his hesitation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He threw himself on his hard bed, and a few minutes brought him that
+      dreamless sleep which comes so easily to the young.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile Aunt Lucy, whose thoughts were also occupied with Paul's
+      approaching departure, had taken from the pocket of her OTHER dress&mdash;for
+      she had but two&mdash;something wrapped in a piece of brown paper. One by
+      one she removed the many folds in which it was enveloped, and came at
+      length to the contents.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a coin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Paul will need some money, poor boy,&rdquo; said she, softly to herself, &ldquo;I
+      will give him this. It will never do me any good, and it may be of some
+      service to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So saying she looked carefully at the coin in the moonlight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But what made her start, and utter a half exclamation?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Instead of the gold eagle, the accumulation of many years, which she had
+      been saving for some extraordinary occasion like the presents she held in
+      her hand&mdash;a copper cent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have been robbed,&rdquo; she exclaimed indignantly in the suddenness of her
+      surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the matter now?&rdquo; inquired Mrs Mudge, appearing at the door, &ldquo;Why
+      are you not in bed, Aunt Lucy Lee? How dare you disobey my orders?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have been robbed,&rdquo; exclaimed the old lady in unwonted excitement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of what, pray?&rdquo; asked Mrs. Mudge, with a sneer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had a gold eagle wrapped up in that paper,&rdquo; returned Aunt Lucy,
+      pointing to the fragments on the floor, &ldquo;and now, to-night, when I come to
+      open it, I find but this cent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A likely story,&rdquo; retorted Mrs. Mudge, &ldquo;very likely, indeed, that a common
+      pauper should have a gold eagle. If you found a cent in the paper, most
+      likely that's what you put there. You're growing old and forgetful, so
+      don't get foolish and flighty. You'd better go to bed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I did have the gold, and it's been stolen,&rdquo; persisted Aunt Lucy,
+      whose disappointment was the greater because she intended the money for
+      Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Again!&rdquo; exclaimed Mrs. Mudge. &ldquo;Will you never have done with this folly?
+      Even if you did have the gold, which I don't for an instant believe, you
+      couldn't keep it. A pauper has no right to hold property.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then why did the one who stole the little I had leave me this?&rdquo; said the
+      old lady, scornfully, holding up the cent which had been substituted for
+      the gold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How should I know?&rdquo; exclaimed Mrs. Mudge, wrathfully. &ldquo;You talk as if you
+      thought I had taken your trumpery money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So you did!&rdquo; chimed in an unexpected voice, which made Mrs. Mudge start
+      nervously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the young woman already mentioned, who was bereft of reason, but
+      who at times, as often happens in such cases, seemed gifted with
+      preternatural acuteness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So you did. I saw you, I did; I saw you creep up when you thought nobody
+      was looking, and search her pocket. You opened that paper and took out the
+      bright yellow piece, and put in another. You didn't think I was looking at
+      you, ha! ha! How I laughed as I stood behind the door and saw you tremble
+      for fear some one would catch you thieving. You didn't think of me, dear,
+      did you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the wild creature burst into an unmeaning laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Mudge stood for a moment mute, overwhelmed by this sudden revelation.
+      But for the darkness, Aunt Lucy could have seen the sudden flush which
+      overspread her face with the crimson hue of detected guilt. But this was
+      only for a moment. It was quickly succeeded by a feeling of intense anger
+      towards the unhappy creature who had been the means of exposing her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll teach you to slander your betters, you crazy fool,&rdquo; she exclaimed,
+      in a voice almost inarticulate with passion, as she seized her rudely by
+      the arm, and dragged her violently from the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She returned immediately.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose,&rdquo; said she, abruptly, confronting Aunt Lucy, &ldquo;that you are fool
+      enough to believe her ravings?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I bring no accusation,&rdquo; said the old lady, calmly, &ldquo;If your conscience
+      acquits you, it is not for me to accuse you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what do you think?&rdquo; persisted Mrs. Mudge, whose consciousness of
+      guilt did not leave her quite at ease.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot read the heart,&rdquo; said Aunt Lucy, composedly. &ldquo;I can only say,
+      that, pauper as I am, I would not exchange places with the one who has
+      done this deed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you mean me?&rdquo; demanded Mrs. Mudge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can tell best.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I tell you what, Aunt Lucy Lee,&rdquo; said Mrs. Mudge, her eyes blazing with
+      anger, &ldquo;If you dare insinuate to any living soul that I stole your paltry
+      money, which I don't believe you ever had, I will be bitterly revenged
+      upon you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She flaunted out of the room, and Aunt Lucy, the first bitterness of her
+      disappointment over, retired to bed, and slept more tranquilly than the
+      unscrupulous woman who had robbed her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At a quarter before four Paul started from his humble couch, and hastily
+      dressed himself, took up a little bundle containing all his scanty stock
+      of clothing, and noiselessly descended the two flights of stairs which
+      separated him from the lower story. Here he paused a moment for Aunt Lucy
+      to appear. Her sharp ears had distinguished his stealthy steps as he
+      passed her door, and she came down to bid him good-by. She had in her
+      hands a pair of stockings which she slipped into his bundle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish I had something else to give you, Paul,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;but you know
+      that I am not very rich.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear Aunt Lucy,&rdquo; said Paul, kissing her, &ldquo;you are my only friend on
+      earth. You have been very kind to me, and I never will forget you, NEVER!
+      By-and-by, when I am rich, I will build a fine house, and you will come
+      and live with me, won't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul's bright anticipations, improbable as they were, had the effect of
+      turning his companion's thoughts into a more cheerful channel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She bent down and kissed him, whispering softly, &ldquo;Yes, I will, Paul.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then it's a bargain,&rdquo; said he, joyously, &ldquo;Mind you don't forget it. I
+      shall come for you one of these days when you least expect it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you any money?&rdquo; inquired Aunt Lucy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then,&rdquo; said she, drawing from her finger a gold ring which had held its
+      place for many long years, &ldquo;here is something which will bring you a
+      little money if you are ever in distress.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul hung back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would rather not take it, indeed I would,&rdquo; he said, earnestly, &ldquo;I would
+      rather go hungry for two or three days than sell your ring. Besides, I
+      shall not need it; God will provide for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you need not sell it,&rdquo; urged Aunt Lucy, &ldquo;unless it is absolutely
+      necessary. You can take it and keep it in remembrance of me. Keep it till
+      you see me again, Paul. It will be a pledge to me that you will come back
+      again some day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On that condition I will take it,&rdquo; said Paul, &ldquo;and some day I will bring
+      it back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A slight noise above, as of some one stirring in sleep, excited the
+      apprehensions of the two, and warned them that it was imprudent for them
+      to remain longer in conversation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After a hurried good-by, Aunt Lucy quietly went upstairs again, and Paul,
+      shouldering his bundle, walked rapidly away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The birds, awakening from their night's repose, were beginning to carol
+      forth their rich songs of thanksgiving for the blessing of a new day. From
+      the flowers beneath his feet and the blossom-laden branches above his
+      head, a delicious perfume floated out upon the morning air, and filled the
+      heart of the young wanderer with a sense of the joyousness of existence,
+      and inspired him with a hopeful confidence in the future.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For the first time he felt that he belonged to himself. At the age of
+      thirteen he had taken his fortune in his own hand, and was about to mold
+      it as best he might.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There were care, and toil, and privations before him, no doubt, but in
+      that bright morning hour he could harbor only cheerful and trusting
+      thoughts. Hopefully he looked forward to the time when he could fulfil his
+      father's dying injunction, and lift from his name the burden of a debt
+      unpaid. Then his mind reverting to another thought, he could not help
+      smiling at the surprise and anger of Mr. Mudge, when he should find that
+      his assistant had taken French leave. He thought he should like to be
+      concealed somewhere where he could witness the commotion excited by his
+      own departure. But as he could not be in two places at the same time, he
+      must lose that satisfaction. He had cut loose from the Mudge household, as
+      he trusted, forever. He felt that a new and brighter life was opening
+      before him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      VIII.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      A FRIEND IN NEED.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Our hero did not stop till he had put a good five miles between himself
+      and the poorhouse. He knew that it would not be long before Mr. Mudge
+      would discover his absence, and the thought of being carried back was
+      doubly distasteful to him now that he had, even for a short time, felt the
+      joy of being his own master. His hurried walk, taken in the fresh morning
+      air, gave him quite a sharp appetite. Luckily he had the means of
+      gratifying it. The night before he had secreted half his supper, knowing
+      that he should need it more the next morning. He thought he might now
+      venture to sit down and eat it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At a little distance from the road was a spring, doubtless used for
+      cattle, since it was situated at the lower end of a pasture. Close beside
+      and bending over it was a broad, branching oak, which promised a cool and
+      comfortable shelter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's just the place for me,&rdquo; thought Paul, who felt thirsty as well as
+      hungry, &ldquo;I think I will take breakfast here and rest awhile before I go
+      any farther.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So saying he leaped lightly over the rail fence, and making his way to the
+      place indicated, sat down in the shadow of the tree. Scooping up some
+      water in the hollow of his hand, he drank a deep and refreshing draught.
+      He next proceeded to pull out of his pocket a small package, which proved
+      to contain two small pieces of bread. His long morning walk had given him
+      such an appetite that he was not long in despatching all he had. It is
+      said by some learned physicians, who no doubt understand the matter, that
+      we should always rise from the table with an appetite. Probably Paul had
+      never heard of this rule. Nevertheless, he seemed in a fair way of putting
+      it into practice, for the best of reasons, because he could not help it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His breakfast, though not the most inviting, being simply unbuttered bread
+      and rather dry at that, seemed more delicious than ever before, but
+      unfortunately there was not enough of it. However, as there seemed likely
+      to be no more forthcoming, he concluded in default of breakfast to lie
+      down under the tree for a few minutes before resuming his walk. Though he
+      could not help wondering vaguely where his dinner was to come from, as
+      that time was several hours distant, he wisely decided not to anticipate
+      trouble till it came.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lying down under the tree, Paul began to consider what Mr. Mudge would say
+      when he discovered that he had run away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He'll have to milk the cows himself,&rdquo; thought Paul. &ldquo;He won't fancy that
+      much. Won't Mrs. Mudge scold, thought? I'm glad I shan't be within
+      hearing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Holloa!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a boy's voice that Paul heard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Looking up he saw a sedate company of cows entering the pasture single
+      file through an aperture made by letting down the bars. Behind them walked
+      a boy of about his own size, flourishing a stout hickory stick. The cows
+      went directly to the spring from which Paul had already drunk. The young
+      driver looked at our hero with some curiosity, wondering, doubtless, what
+      brought him there so early in the morning. After a little hesitation he
+      said, remarking Paul's bundle, &ldquo;Where are you traveling?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know exactly,&rdquo; said Paul, who was not quite sure whether it would
+      be politic to avow his destination.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't know?&rdquo; returned the other, evidently surprised.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not exactly; I may go to New York.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;New York! That's a great ways off. Do you know the way there?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, but I can find it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you going all alone?&rdquo; asked his new acquaintance, who evidently
+      thought Paul had undertaken a very formidable journey.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you going to walk all the way?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, unless somebody offers me a ride now and then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why don't you ride in the stage, or in the cars? You would get there
+      a good deal quicker.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One reason,&rdquo; said Paul, hesitating a little, &ldquo;is because I have no money
+      to pay for riding.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then how do you expect to live? Have you had any breakfast, this
+      morning?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I brought some with me, and just got through eating it when you came
+      along.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And where do you expect to get any dinner?&rdquo; pursued his questioner, who
+      was evidently not a little puzzled by the answers he received.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; returned Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His companion looked not a little confounded at this view of the matter,
+      but presently a bright thought struck him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shouldn't wonder,&rdquo; he said, shrewdly, &ldquo;if you were running away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul hesitated a moment. He knew that his case must look a little
+      suspicious, thus unexplained, and after a brief pause for reflection
+      determined to take the questioner into his confidence. He did this the
+      more readily because his new acquaintance looked very pleasant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You've guessed right,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;if you'll promise not to tell anybody,
+      I'll tell you all about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was readily promised, and the boy who gave his name as John Burgess,
+      sat down beside Paul, while he, with the frankness of boyhood, gave a
+      circumstantial account of his father's death, and the ill-treatment he had
+      met with subsequently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you come from Wrenville?&rdquo; asked John, interested. &ldquo;Why, I've got
+      relations there. Perhaps you know my cousin, Ben Newcome.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is Ben Newcome your cousin? O yes, I know him very well; he's a
+      first-rate fellow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He isn't much like his father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at all. If he was&rdquo;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You wouldn't like him so well. Uncle talks a little too much out of the
+      dictionary, and walks so straight that he bends backward. But I say, Paul,
+      old Mudge deserves to be choked, and Mrs. Mudge should be obliged to
+      swallow a gallon of her own soup. I don't know but that would be worse
+      than choking. I wouldn't have stayed so long if I had been in your place.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shouldn't,&rdquo; said Paul, &ldquo;if it hadn't been for Aunt Lucy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was she an aunt of yours?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, but we used to call her so, She's the best friend I've got, and I
+      don't know but the only one,&rdquo; said Paul, a little sadly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, she isn't,&rdquo; said John, quickly; &ldquo;I'll be your friend, Paul. Sometime,
+      perhaps, I shall go to New York, myself, and then I will come and see you.
+      Where do you expect to be?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know anything about the city,&rdquo; said Paul, &ldquo;but if you come, I
+      shall be sure to see you somewhere. I wish you were going now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Neither Paul nor his companion had much idea of the extent of the great
+      metropolis, or they would not have taken it so much as a matter of course
+      that, being in the same place, they should meet each other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Their conversation was interrupted by the ringing of a bell from a
+      farmhouse within sight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's our breakfast-bell,&rdquo; said John rising from the grass. &ldquo;It is meant
+      for me. I suppose they wonder what keeps me so long. Won't you come and
+      take breakfast with me, Paul?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I guess not,&rdquo; said Paul, who would have been glad to do so had he
+      followed the promptings of his appetite. &ldquo;I'm afraid your folks would ask
+      me questions, and then it would be found out that I am running away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I didn't think of that,&rdquo; returned John, after a pause. &ldquo;You haven't got
+      any dinner with you?&rdquo; he said a moment after.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I'll tell you what I'll do. Come with me as far as the fence, and
+      lie down there till I've finished breakfast. Then I'll bring something out
+      for you, and maybe I'll walk along a little way with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very kind,&rdquo; said Paul, gratefully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, nonsense,&rdquo; said John, &ldquo;that's nothing. Besides, you know we are going
+      to be friends.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;John! breakfast's ready.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's Nelson calling me,&rdquo; said John, hurriedly. &ldquo;I must leave you;
+      there's the fence; lie down there, and I'll be back in a jiffy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;John, I say, why don't you come?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm coming. You mustn't think everybody's got such a thundering great
+      appetite as you, Nelson.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I guess you've got enough to keep you from pining away,&rdquo; said Nelson,
+      good-naturedly, &ldquo;you're twice as fat as I am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's because I work harder,&rdquo; said John, rather illogically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The brothers went in to breakfast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But a few minutes elapsed before John reappeared, bearing under his arm a
+      parcel wrapped up in an old newspaper. He came up panting with the haste
+      he had made.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It didn't take you long to eat breakfast,&rdquo; said Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I hurried through it; I thought you would get tired of waiting. And
+      now I'll walk along with you a little ways. But wait here's something for
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So saying he unrolled the newspaper and displayed a loaf of bread, fresh
+      and warm, which looked particularly inviting to Paul, whose scanty
+      breakfast had by no means satisfied his appetite. Besides this, there was
+      a loaf of molasses ginger-bread, with which all who were born in the
+      country, or know anything of New England housekeeping, are familiar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There,&rdquo; said John, &ldquo;I guess that'll be enough for your dinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But how did you get it without having any questions asked?&rdquo; inquired our
+      hero.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said John, &ldquo;I asked mother for them, and when she asked what I
+      wanted of them, I told her that I'd answer that question to-morrow. You
+      see I wanted to give you a chance to get off out of the way, though mother
+      wouldn't tell, even if she knew.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; said Paul, with satisfaction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He could not help looking wistfully at the bread, which looked very
+      inviting to one accustomed to poorhouse fare.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you wouldn't mind,&rdquo; he said hesitating, &ldquo;I would like to eat a little
+      of the bread now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mind, of course not,&rdquo; said John, breaking off a liberal slice. &ldquo;Why
+      didn't I think of that before? Walking must have given you a famous
+      appetite.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      John looked on with evident approbation, while Paul ate with great
+      apparent appetite.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There,&rdquo; said he with a sigh of gratification, as he swallowed the last
+      morsel, &ldquo;I haven't tasted anything so good for a long time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it as good as Mrs. Mudge's soup?&rdquo; asked John, mischievously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Almost,&rdquo; returned Paul, smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We must now leave the boys to pursue their way, and return to the dwelling
+      from which our hero had so unceremoniously taken his departure, and from
+      which danger now threatened him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      IX.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      A CLOUD IN THE MUDGE HORIZON.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Mudge was accustomed to call Paul at five o'clock, to milk the cows
+      and perform other chores. He himself did not rise till an hour later.
+      During Paul's sickness, he was obliged to take his place,&mdash;a thing he
+      did not relish overmuch. Now that our hero had recovered, he gladly
+      prepared to indulge himself in an extra nap.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Paul!&rdquo; called Mr. Mudge from the bottom of the staircase leading up into
+      the attic, &ldquo;it's five o'clock; time you were downstairs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Mudge waited for an answer, but none came.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Paul!&rdquo; repeated Mr. Mudge in a louder tone, &ldquo;it's time to get up; tumble
+      out there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Again there was no answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At first, Mr. Mudge thought it might be in consequence of Paul's sleeping
+      so soundly, but on listening attentively, he could not distinguish the
+      deep and regular breathing which usually accompanies such slumber.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He must be sullen,&rdquo; he concluded, with a feeling of irritation. &ldquo;If he
+      is, I'll teach him&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Without taking time to finish the sentence, he bounded up the rickety
+      staircase, and turned towards the bed with the intention of giving our
+      hero a smart shaking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked with astonishment at the empty bed. &ldquo;Is it possible,&rdquo; he
+      thought, &ldquo;that Paul has already got up? He isn't apt to do so before he is
+      called.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this juncture, Mrs. Mudge, surprised at her husband's prolonged
+      absence, called from below, &ldquo;Mr. Mudge!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, wife?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What in the name of wonder keeps you up there so long?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just come up and see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Mudge did come up. Her husband pointed to the empty bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you think of that?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What about it?&rdquo; she inquired, not quite comprehending.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About that boy, Paul. When I called him I got no answer, so I came up,
+      and behold he is among the missing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't think he's run away, do you?&rdquo; asked Mrs. Mudge startled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is more than I know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll see if his clothes are here,&rdquo; said his wife, now fully aroused.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her search was unavailing. Paul's clothes had disappeared as mysteriously
+      as their owner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's a clear case,&rdquo; said Mr. Mudge, shaking his head; &ldquo;he's gone. I
+      wouldn't have lost him for considerable. He was only a boy, but I managed
+      to get as much work out of him as a man. The question is now, what shall
+      we do about it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He must be pursued,&rdquo; said Mrs. Mudge, with vehemence, &ldquo;I'll have him back
+      if it costs me twenty dollars. I'll tell you what, husband,&rdquo; she
+      exclaimed, with a sudden light breaking in upon her, &ldquo;if there's anybody
+      in this house knows where he's gone, it is Aunt Lucy Lee. Only last week I
+      caught her knitting him a pair of stockings. I might have known what it
+      meant if I hadn't been a fool.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha, ha! So you might, if you hadn't been a fool!&rdquo; echoed a mocking voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Turning with sudden anger, Mrs. Mudge beheld the face of the crazy girl
+      peering up at her from below.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This turned her thoughts into a different channel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll teach you what I am,&rdquo; she exclaimed, wrathfully descending the
+      stairs more rapidly than she had mounted them, &ldquo;and if you know anything
+      about the little scamp, I'll have it out of you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl narrowly succeeded in eluding the grasp of her pursuer. But,
+      alas! for Mrs. Mudge. In her impetuosity she lost her footing, and fell
+      backward into a pail of water which had been brought up the night before
+      and set in the entry for purposes of ablution. More wrathful than ever,
+      Mrs. Mudge bounced into her room and sat down in her dripping garments in
+      a very uncomfortable frame of mind. As for Paul, she felt a personal
+      dislike for him, and was not sorry on some accounts to have him out of the
+      house. The knowledge, however, that he had in a manner defied her
+      authority by running away, filled her with an earnest desire to get him
+      back, if only to prove that it was not to be defied with impunity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hoping to elicit some information from Aunt Lucy, who, she felt sure, was
+      in Paul's confidence, she paid her a visit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, here's a pretty goings on,&rdquo; she commenced, abruptly. Finding that
+      Aunt Lucy manifested no curiosity on the subject, she continued, in a
+      significant tone, &ldquo;Of course, YOU don't know anything about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can tell better when I know what you refer to,&rdquo; said the old lady
+      calmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you are very ignorant all at once. I suppose you didn't know Paul
+      Prescott had run away?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not surprised,&rdquo; said the old lady, in the same quiet manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Mudge had expected a show of astonishment, and this calmness
+      disconcerted her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are not surprised!&rdquo; she retorted. &ldquo;I presume not, since you knew all
+      about it beforehand. That's why you were knitting him some stockings. Deny
+      it, if you dare.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have no disposition to deny it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You haven't!&rdquo; exclaimed the questioner, almost struck dumb with this
+      audacity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Aunt Lucy. &ldquo;Why should I? There was no particular inducement
+      for him to stay here. Wherever he goes, I hope he will meet with good
+      friends and good treatment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As much as to say he didn't find them here. Is that what you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have no charges to bring.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I have,&rdquo; said Mrs. Mudge, her eyes lighting with malicious
+      satisfaction. &ldquo;Last night you missed a ten-dollar gold piece, which you
+      saw was stolen from you. This morning it appears that Paul Prescott has
+      run away. I charge him with the theft.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You do not, can not believe this,&rdquo; said the old lady, uneasily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I do,&rdquo; returned Mrs. Mudge, triumphantly, perceiving her
+      advantage. &ldquo;I have no doubt of it, and when we get the boy back, he shall
+      be made to confess it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Aunt Lucy looked troubled, much to the gratification of Mrs. Mudge. It was
+      but for a short time, however. Rising from her seat, she stood confronting
+      Mrs. Mudge, and said quietly, but firmly, &ldquo;I have no doubt, Mrs. Mudge,
+      you are capable of doing what you say. I would advise you, however, to
+      pause. You know, as well as I do, that Paul is incapable of this theft.
+      Even if he were wicked enough to form the idea, he would have no need,
+      since it was my intention to GIVE him this money. Who did actually steal
+      the gold, you PERHAPS know better than I. Should it be necessary, I shall
+      not hesitate to say so. I advise you not to render it necessary.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The threat which lay in these words was understood. It came with the force
+      of a sudden blow to Mrs. Mudge, who had supposed it would be no difficult
+      task to frighten and silence Aunt Lucy. The latter had always been so
+      yielding in all matters relating to herself, that this intrepid
+      championship of Paul's interests was unlooked for. The tables were
+      completely turned. Pale with rage, and a mortified sense of having been
+      foiled with her own weapons, Mrs. Mudge left the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile her husband milked the cows, and was now occupied in performing
+      certain other duties that could not be postponed, being resolved,
+      immediately after breakfast was over, to harness up and pursue the
+      runaway.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, did you get anything out of the old lady?&rdquo; he inquired, as he came
+      from the barn with the full milk-pails.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She said she knew beforehand that he was going.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh!&rdquo; said Mr. Mudge, pricking up his ears, &ldquo;did she say where?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, and she won't. She knit him a pair of stockings to help him off, and
+      doesn't pretend to deny it. She's taken a wonderful fancy to the young
+      scamp, and has been as obstinate as could be ever since he has been here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I get him back,&rdquo; said Mr. Mudge, &ldquo;he shall have a good flogging, if I
+      am able to give him one, and she shall be present to see it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's right,&rdquo; said Mrs. Mudge, approvingly, &ldquo;when are you going to set
+      out after him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Right after breakfast. So be spry, and get it ready as soon as you can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Under the stimulus of this inspiring motive, Mrs. Mudge bustled about with
+      new energy, and before many minutes the meal was in readiness. It did not
+      take long to dispatch it. Immediately afterwards, Mr. Mudge harnessed up,
+      as he had determined, and started off in pursuit of our hero.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the meantime the two boys had walked leisurely along, conversing on
+      various subjects.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When you get to the city, Paul,&rdquo; said John, &ldquo;I shall want to hear from
+      you. Will you write to me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul promised readily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can direct to John Burges, Burrville. The postmaster knows me, and I
+      shall be sure to get it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish you were going with me,&rdquo; said Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sometimes when I think that I am all alone it discourages me. It would be
+      so much pleasanter to have some one with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall come sometime,&rdquo; said John, &ldquo;when I am a little older. I heard
+      father say something the other day about my going into a store in the
+      city. So we may meet again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope we shall.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They were just turning a bend of the road, when Paul chanced to look
+      backward. About a quarter of a mile back he descried a horse and wagon
+      wearing a familiar look. Fixing his eyes anxiously upon them, he was soon
+      made aware that his suspicions were only too well founded. It was Mr.
+      Mudge, doubtless in quest of him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What shall I do?&rdquo; he asked, hurriedly of his companion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was quickly explained.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      John was quickwitted, and he instantly decided upon the course proper to
+      be pursued. On either side of the road was a growth of underbrush so thick
+      as to be almost impenetrable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Creep in behind there, and be quick about it,&rdquo; directed John, &ldquo;there is
+      no time to lose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There,&rdquo; said he, after Paul had followed his advice, &ldquo;if he can see you
+      now he must have sharp eyes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Won't you come in too?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not I,&rdquo; said John, &ldquo;I am anxious to see this Mr. Mudge, since you have
+      told me so much about him. I hope he will ask me some questions.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What will you tell him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Trust me for that. Don't say any more. He's close by.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      X.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      MR. MUDGE MEETS HIS MATCH.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      John lounged along, appearing to be very busily engaged in making a
+      whistle from a slip of willow which he had a short time before cut from
+      the tree. He purposely kept in the middle of the road, apparently quite
+      unaware of the approach of the vehicle, until he was aroused by the sound
+      of a voice behind him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Be a little more careful, if you don't want to get run over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      John assumed a look of surprise, and with comic terror ran to the side of
+      the road.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Mudge checked his horse, and came to a sudden halt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say, youngster, haven't you seen a boy of about your own size walking
+      along, with a bundle in his hand?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tied up in a red cotton handkerchief?&rdquo; inquired John.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I believe so,&rdquo; said Mr. Mudge, eagerly, &ldquo;where did you&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With a blue cloth cap?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, where&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gray jacket and pants?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, yes. Where?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With a patch on one knee?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, the very one. When did you see him?&rdquo; said Mr. Mudge, getting ready
+      to start his horse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps it isn't the one you mean,&rdquo; continued John, who took a
+      mischievous delight in playing with the evident impatience of Mr. Mudge;
+      &ldquo;the boy that I saw looked thin, as if he hadn't had enough to eat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Mudge winced slightly, and looked at John with some suspicion. But
+      John put on so innocent and artless a look that Mr. Mudge at once
+      dismissed the idea that there was any covert meaning in what he said.
+      Meanwhile Paul, from his hiding-place in the bushes, had listened with
+      anxiety to the foregoing colloquy. When John described his appearance so
+      minutely, he was seized with a sudden apprehension that the boy meant to
+      betray him. But he dismissed it instantly. In his own singleness of heart
+      he could not believe such duplicity possible. Still, it was not without
+      anxiety that he waited to hear what would be said next.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Mr. Mudge, slowly, &ldquo;I don't know but he is a little PEAKED.
+      He's been sick lately, and that's took off his flesh.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was he your son?&rdquo; asked John, in a sympathizing tone; &ldquo;you must feel
+      quite troubled about him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked askance at Mr. Mudge, enjoying that gentleman's growing
+      irritation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My son? No. Where&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nephews perhaps?&rdquo; suggested the imperturbable John, leisurely continuing
+      the manufacture of a whistle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I tell you, nothing of the kind. But I can't sit waiting here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I hope you'll excuse me,&rdquo; said John, apologetically. &ldquo;I hope you
+      won't stop on my account. I didn't know you were in a hurry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you know it now,&rdquo; said Mr. Mudge, crossly. &ldquo;When and where did you
+      see the boy you have described? I am in pursuit of him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has he run away?&rdquo; inquired John in assumed surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you going to answer my question or not?&rdquo; demanded Mr. Mudge, angrily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I beg your pardon. I shouldn't have asked so many questions, only I
+      thought he was a nice-looking boy, and I felt interested in him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's a young scamp,&rdquo; said Mr. Mudge, impetuously, &ldquo;and it's my belief
+      that you're another. Now answer my question. When and where did you see
+      this boy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This time Mr. Mudge's menacing look warned John that he had gone far
+      enough. Accordingly he answered promptly, &ldquo;He passed by our farm this
+      morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How far back is that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About three miles.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did he stop there?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, he stopped a while to rest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you seen him since?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I saw him about half a mile back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On this road?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but he turned up the road that branches off there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just what I wanted to find out,&rdquo; said Mr. Mudge, in a tone of
+      satisfaction, &ldquo;I'm sure to catch him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So saying, he turned about and put his horse to its utmost speed,
+      determined to make up for lost time. When he was fairly out of sight, Paul
+      came forth from his hiding-place.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How could you do so!&rdquo; he asked in a reproachful tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Could I do what?&rdquo; asked John, turning a laughing face towards Paul.
+      &ldquo;Didn't I tell old Mudge the exact truth? You know you did turn up that
+      road. To be sure you didn't go two rods before turning back. But he didn't
+      stop to ask about that. If he hadn't been in such a hurry, perhaps I
+      should have told him. Success to him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can't think how I trembled when you described me so particularly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You didn't think I would betray you?&rdquo; said John, quickly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, but I was afraid you would venture too far, and get us both into
+      trouble.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Trust me for that, Paul; I've got my eyes wide open, and ain't easily
+      caught. But wasn't it fun to see old Mudge fuming while I kept him
+      waiting. What would he have said if he had known the bird was so near at
+      hand? He looked foolish enough when I asked him if you were his son.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      John sat down and gave vent to his pent-up laughter which he had felt
+      obliged to restrain in the presence of Mr. Mudge. He laughed so heartily
+      that Paul, notwithstanding his recent fright and anxiety, could not resist
+      the infection. Together they laughed, till the very air seemed vocal with
+      merriment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      John was the first to recover his gravity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sorry, Paul,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;but I must bid you good-by. They will miss
+      me from the house. I am glad I have got acquainted with you, and I hope I
+      shall see you again some time before very long. Good-by, Paul.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-by, John.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The two boys shook hands and parted. One went in one direction, the other
+      in the opposite. Each looked back repeatedly till the other was out of
+      sight. Then came over Paul once more a feeling of sadness and desolation,
+      which the high spirits of his companion had for the time kept off.
+      Occasionally he cast a glance backwards, to make sure that Mr. Mudge was
+      not following him. But Paul had no cause to fear on that score. The object
+      of his dread was already some miles distant in a different direction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For an hour longer, Paul trudged on. He met few persons, the road not
+      being very much frequented. He was now at least twelve miles from his
+      starting-place, and began to feel very sensibly the effects of heat and
+      fatigue combined. He threw himself down upon the grass under the
+      overhanging branches of an appletree to rest. After his long walk repose
+      seemed delicious, and with a feeling of exquisite enjoyment he stretched
+      himself out at full length upon the soft turf, and closed his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Insensibly he fell asleep. How long he slept he could not tell. He was
+      finally roused from his slumber by something cold touching his cheek.
+      Starting up he rubbed his eyes in bewilderment, and gradually became aware
+      that this something was the nose of a Newfoundland dog, whose keen scent
+      had enabled him to discover the whereabouts of the small stock of
+      provisions with which Paul had been supplied by his late companion.
+      Fortunately he awoke in time to save its becoming the prey of its canine
+      visitor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I reckon you came nigh losing your dinner,&rdquo; fell upon his ears in a rough
+      but hearty tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the same time he heard the noise of wheels, and looking up, beheld a
+      specimen of a class well known throughout New England&mdash;a tin pedler.
+      He was seated on a cart liberally stocked with articles of tin ware. From
+      the rear depended two immense bags, one of which served as a receptacle
+      for white rags, the other for bits of calico and whatever else may fall
+      under the designation of &ldquo;colored.&rdquo; His shop, for such it was, was drawn
+      at a brisk pace by a stout horse, who in this respect presented a contrast
+      to his master, who was long and lank. The pedler himself was a man of
+      perhaps forty, with a face in which shrewdness and good humor seemed alike
+      indicated. Take him for all in all, you might travel some distance without
+      falling in with a more complete specimen of the Yankee.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So you came nigh losing your dinner,&rdquo; he repeated, in a pleasant tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Paul, &ldquo;I got tired and fell asleep, and I don't know when I
+      should have waked up but for your dog.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Boney's got a keen scent for provisions,&rdquo; laughed the pedler. &ldquo;He's
+      a little graspin', like his namesake. You see his real name is Bonaparte;
+      we only call him Boney, for short.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile he had stopped his horse. He was about to start afresh, when a
+      thought struck him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Maybe you're goin' my way,&rdquo; said he, turning to Paul; &ldquo;if you are, you're
+      welcome to a ride.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul was very glad to accept the invitation. He clambered into the cart,
+      and took a seat behind the pedler, while Boney, who took his recent
+      disappointment very good-naturedly, jogged on contentedly behind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How far are you goin'?&rdquo; asked Paul's new acquaintance, as he whipped up
+      his horse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul felt a little embarrassed. If he had been acquainted with the names
+      of any of the villages on the route he might easily have answered. As it
+      was, only one name occurred to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think,&rdquo; said he, with some hesitation, &ldquo;that I shall go to New York.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;New York!&rdquo; repeated the pedler, with a whistle expressive of his
+      astonishment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you've a journey before you. Got any relations there?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No uncles, aunts, cousins, nor nothing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then what makes you go? Haven't run away from your father and mother,
+      hey?&rdquo; asked the pedler, with a knowing look.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have no father nor mother,&rdquo; said Paul, sadly enough.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you had somebody to take care of you, I calculate. Where did you
+      live?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I tell you, you won't carry me back?&rdquo; said Paul, anxiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a bit of it. I've got too much business on hand for that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Relieved by this assurance, Paul told his story, encouraged thereto by
+      frequent questions from his companion, who seemed to take a lively
+      interest in the adventures of his young companion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's a capital trick you played on old Mudge,&rdquo; he said with a hearty
+      laugh which almost made the tins rattle. &ldquo;I don't blame you a bit for
+      running away. I've got a story to tell you about Mrs. Mudge. She's a
+      regular skinflint.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XI.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      WAYSIDE GOSSIP.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      This was the pedler's promised story about Mrs. Mudge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The last time I was round that way, I stopped, thinking maybe they might
+      have some rags to dispose of for tin-ware. The old lady seemed glad to see
+      me, and pretty soon she brought down a lot of white rags. I thought they
+      seemed quite heavy for their bulk,&mdash;howsomever, I wasn't looking for
+      any tricks, and I let it go. By-and-by, when I happened to be ransacking
+      one of the bags, I came across half a dozen pounds or more of old iron
+      tied up in a white cloth. That let the cat out of the bag. I knew why they
+      were so heavy, then, I reckon I shan't call on Mrs. Mudge next time I go
+      by.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So you've run off,&rdquo; he continued, after a pause, &ldquo;I like your spunk,&mdash;just
+      what I should have done myself. But tell me how you managed to get off
+      without the old chap's finding it out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul related such of his adventures as he had not before told, his
+      companion listening with marked approval.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish I'd been there,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I'd have given fifty cents, right out,
+      to see how old Mudge looked, I calc'late he's pretty well tired with his
+      wild-goose chase by this time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was now twelve o'clock, and both the travelers began to feel the pangs
+      of hunger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's about time to bait, I calc'late,&rdquo; remarked the pedler.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The unsophisticated reader is informed that the word &ldquo;bait,&rdquo; in New
+      England phraseology, is applied to taking lunch or dining.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At this point a green lane opened out of the public road, skirted on
+      either side by a row of trees. Carpeted with green, it made a very
+      pleasant dining-room. A red-and-white heifer browsing at a little distance
+      looked up from her meal and surveyed the intruders with mild attention,
+      but apparently satisfied that they contemplated no invasion of her rights,
+      resumed her agreeable employment. Over an irregular stone wall our
+      travelers looked into a thrifty apple-orchard laden with fruit. They
+      halted beneath a spreading chestnut-tree which towered above its
+      neighbors, and offered them a grateful shelter from the noonday sun.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From the box underneath the seat, the pedler took out a loaf of bread, a
+      slice of butter, and a tin pail full of doughnuts. Paul, on his side,
+      brought out his bread and gingerbread.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I most generally carry round my own provisions,&rdquo; remarked the pedler,
+      between two mouthfuls. &ldquo;It's a good deal cheaper and more convenient, too.
+      Help yourself to the doughnuts. I always calc'late to have some with me.
+      I'd give more for 'em any day than for rich cake that ain't fit for
+      anybody. My mother used to beat everybody in the neighborhood on making
+      doughnuts. She made 'em so good that we never knew when to stop eating.
+      You wouldn't hardly believe it, but, when I was a little shaver, I
+      remember eating twenty-three doughnuts at one time. Pretty nigh killed
+      me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should think it might,&rdquo; said Paul, laughing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mother got so scared that she vowed she wouldn't fry another for three
+      months, but I guess she kinder lost the run of the almanac, for in less
+      than a week she turned out about a bushel more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      All this time the pedler was engaged in practically refuting the saying,
+      that a man cannot do two things at once. With a little assistance from
+      Paul, the stock of doughnuts on which he had been lavishing encomiums,
+      diminished rapidly. It was evident that his attachment to this homely
+      article of diet was quite as strong as ever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't be afraid of them,&rdquo; said he, seeing that Paul desisted from his
+      efforts, &ldquo;I've got plenty more in the box.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul signified that his appetite was already appeased.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then we might as well be jogging on. Hey, Goliah,&rdquo; said he, addressing
+      the horse, who with an air of great content, had been browsing while his
+      master was engaged in a similar manner. &ldquo;Queer name for a horse, isn't it?
+      I wanted something out of the common way, so I asked mother for a name,
+      and she gave me that. She's great on scripture names, mother is. She gave
+      one to every one of her children. It didn't make much difference to her
+      what they were as long as they were in the Bible. I believe she used to
+      open the Bible at random, and take the first name she happened to come
+      across. There are eight of us, and nary a decent name in the lot. My
+      oldest brother's name is Abimelech. Then there's Pharaoh, and Ishmael, and
+      Jonadab, for the boys, and Leah and Naomi, for the girls; but my name
+      beats all. You couldn't guess it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't believe you could,&rdquo; said the pedler, shaking his head in comic
+      indignation. &ldquo;It's Jehoshaphat. Ain't that a respectable name for the son
+      of Christian parents?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It wouldn't be so bad,&rdquo; continued the pedler, &ldquo;if my other name was
+      longer; but Jehoshaphat seems rather a long handle to put before Stubbs. I
+      can't say I feel particularly proud of the name, though for use it'll do
+      as well as any other. At any rate, it ain't quite so bad as the name
+      mother pitched on for my youngest sister, who was lucky enough to die
+      before she needed a name.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What was it?&rdquo; inquired Paul, really curious to know what name could be
+      considered less desirable than Jehoshaphat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was Jezebel,&rdquo; responded the pedler.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Everybody told mother 'twould never do; but she was kind of superstitious
+      about it, because that was the first name she came to in the Bible, and so
+      she thought it was the Lord's will that that name should be given to the
+      child.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As Mr. Stubbs finished his disquisition upon names, there came in sight a
+      small house, dark and discolored with age and neglect. He pointed this out
+      to Paul with his whip-handle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;is where old Keziah Onthank lives. Ever heard of him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul had not.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's the oldest man in these parts,&rdquo; pursued his loquacious companion.
+      &ldquo;There's some folks that seem a dyin' all the time, and for all that
+      manage to outlive half the young folks in the neighborhood. Old Keziah
+      Onthank is a complete case in p'int. As long ago as when I was cutting my
+      teeth he was so old that nobody know'd how old he was. He was so bowed
+      over that he couldn't see himself in the looking-glass unless you put it
+      on the floor, and I guess even then what he saw wouldn't pay him for his
+      trouble. He was always ailin' some way or other. Now it was rheumatism,
+      now the palsy, and then again the asthma. He had THAT awful.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He lived in the same tumble-down old shanty we have just passed,&mdash;so
+      poor that nobody'd take the gift of it. People said that he'd orter go to
+      the poorhouse, so that when he was sick&mdash;which was pretty much all
+      the time&mdash;he'd have somebody to take care of him. But he'd got kinder
+      attached to the old place, seein' he was born there, and never lived
+      anywhere else, and go he wouldn't.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Everybody expected he was near his end, and nobody'd have been surprised
+      to hear of his death at any minute. But it's strange how some folks are
+      determined to live on, as I said before. So Keziah, though he looked so
+      old when I was a boy that it didn't seem as if he could look any older,
+      kept on livin,' and livin', and arter I got married to Betsy Sprague, he
+      was livin' still.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One day, I remember I was passin' by the old man's shanty, when I heard a
+      dreadful groanin', and thinks I to myself, 'I shouldn't wonder if the old
+      man was on his last legs.' So in I bolted. There he was, to be sure, a
+      lyin', on the bed, all curled up into a heap, breathin' dreadful hard, and
+      lookin' as white and pale as any ghost. I didn't know exactly what to do,
+      so I went and got some water, but he motioned it away, and wouldn't drink
+      it, but kept on groanin'.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'He mustn't be left here to die without any assistance,' thinks I, so I
+      ran off as fast I could to find the doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I found him eatin' dinner&mdash;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come quick,&rdquo; says I, &ldquo;to old Keziah Onthank's. He's dyin', as sure as my
+      name is Jehoshaphat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said the doctor, &ldquo;die or no die, I can't come till I've eaten my
+      dinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he's dyin', doctor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, nonsense. Talk of old Keziah Onthank's dyin'. He'll live longer than
+      I shall.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I recollect I thought the doctor very unfeelin' to talk so of a fellow
+      creetur, just stepping into eternity, as a body may say. However, it's no
+      use drivin' a horse that's made up his mind he won't go, so although I did
+      think the doctor dreadful deliberate about eatin' his dinner (he always
+      would take half an hour for it), I didn't dare to say a word for fear he
+      wouldn't come at all. You see the doctor was dreadful independent, and was
+      bent on havin' his own way, pretty much, though for that matter I think
+      it's the case with most folks. However, to come back to my story, I didn't
+      feel particularly comfortable while I was waitin' his motions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;After a long while the doctor got ready. I was in such a hurry that I
+      actilly pulled him along, he walked so slow; but he only laughed, and I
+      couldn't help thinkin' that doctorin' had a hardinin' effect on the heart.
+      I was determined if ever I fell sick I wouldn't send for him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At last we got there. I went in all of a tremble, and crept to the bed,
+      thinkin' I should see his dead body. But he wasn't there at all. I felt a
+      little bothered you'd better believe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said the doctor, turning to me with a smile, &ldquo;what do you think
+      now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know what to think,&rdquo; said I.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I'll help you,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So sayin', he took me to the winder, and what do you think I see? As sure
+      as I'm alive, there was the old man in the back yard, a squattin' down and
+      pickin' up chips.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And is he still living?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, or he was when I come along last. The doctor's been dead these ten
+      years. He told me old Keziah would outlive him, but I didn't believe him.
+      I shouldn't be surprised if he lived forever.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul listened with amused interest to this and other stories with which
+      his companion beguiled the way. They served to divert his mind from the
+      realities of his condition, and the uncertainty which hung over his
+      worldly prospects.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XII.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      ON THE BRINK OF DISCOVERY.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you're in no great hurry to go to New York,&rdquo; said the pedler, &ldquo;I
+      should like to have you stay with me for a day or two. I live about
+      twenty-five miles from here, straight ahead, so it will be on your way. I
+      always manage to get home by Saturday night if it is any way possible. It
+      doesn't seem comfortable to be away Sunday. As to-day is Friday, I shall
+      get there to-morrow. So you can lie over a day and rest yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul felt grateful for this unexpected invitation. It lifted quite a load
+      from his mind, since, as the day declined, certain anxious thoughts as to
+      where he should find shelter, had obtruded themselves. Even now, the same
+      trouble would be experienced on Monday night, but it is the characteristic
+      of youth to pay little regard to anticipated difficulties as long as the
+      present is provided for.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It must not be supposed that the pedler neglected his business on account
+      of his companion. On the road he had been traveling the houses were few
+      and far between. He had, therefore, but few calls to make. Paul remarked,
+      however, that when he did call he seldom failed to sell something.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Mr. Stubbs, on being interrogated, &ldquo;I make it a p'int to sell
+      something, if it's no more than a tin dipper. I find some hard cases
+      sometimes, and sometimes I have to give it up altogether. I can't quite
+      come up to a friend of mine, Daniel Watson, who used to be in the same
+      line of business. I never knew him to stop at a place without selling
+      something. He had a good deal of judgment, Daniel had, and knew just when
+      to use 'soft sodder,' and when not to. On the road that he traveled there
+      lived a widow woman, who had the reputation of being as ugly,
+      cross-grained a critter as ever lived. People used to say that it was
+      enough to turn milk sour for her even to look at it. Well, it so happened
+      that Daniel had never called there. One night he was boasting that he
+      never called at a house without driving a bargain, when one of the company
+      asked him, with a laugh, if he had ever sold the widow anything.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, no,&rdquo; said Daniel, &ldquo;I never called there; but I've no doubt I could.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What'll you bet of it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm not a betting man,&rdquo; said Daniel, &ldquo;but I feel so sure of it that I
+      don't mind risking five dollars.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Agreed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The next morning Daniel drove leisurely up to the widow's door and
+      knocked. She had a great aversion to pedlers, and declared they were
+      cheats, every one of them. She was busy sweeping when Daniel knocked. She
+      came to the door in a dreadful hurry, hoping it might be an old widower in
+      the neighborhood that she was trying to catch. When she saw how much she
+      was mistaken she looked as black as a thundercloud.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Want any tin ware to-day, ma'am?&rdquo; inquired Daniel, noways discomposed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir,&rdquo; snapped she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Got all kinds,&mdash;warranted the best in the market. Couldn't I sell
+      you something?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a single thing,&rdquo; said she, preparing to shut the door; but Daniel,
+      knowing all would then be lost, stepped in before she could shut it quite
+      to, and began to name over some of the articles he had in his wagon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may talk till doomsday,&rdquo; said the widow, as mad as could be, &ldquo;and it
+      won't do a particle of good. Now, you've got your answer, and you'd better
+      leave the house before you are driven out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Brooms, brushes, lamps&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here the widow, who had been trying to keep in her anger, couldn't hold
+      out any longer. She seized the broom she had been sweeping with, and
+      brought it down with a tremendous whack upon Daniel's back. You can
+      imagine how hard it was, when I tell you that the force of the blow
+      snapped the broom in the middle. You might have thought Daniel would
+      resent it, but he didn't appear to notice it, though it must have hurt him
+      awful. He picked up the pieces, and handing them, with a polite bow, to
+      the widow, said, 'Now, ma'am, I'm sure you need a new broom. I've got some
+      capital ones out in the cart.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The widow seemed kind of overpowered by his coolness. She hardly knew
+      what to say or what to think. However, she had broken her old broom, that
+      was certain, and must have a new one; so when Daniel ran out and brought
+      in a bundle of them, she picked out one and paid for it without saying a
+      word; only, when Daniel asked if he might have the pleasure of calling
+      again, she looked a little queer, and told him that if he considered it a
+      pleasure, she had no objection.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And did he call again?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, whenever he went that way. The widow was always very polite to him
+      after that, and, though she had a mortal dislike to pedlers in general,
+      she was always ready to trade with him. Daniel used to say that he gained
+      his bet and the widow's custom at ONE BLOW.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They were now descending a little hill at the foot of which stood a
+      country tavern. Here Mr. Stubbs declared his intention of spending the
+      night. He drove into the barn, the large door of which stood invitingly
+      open, and unharnessed his horse, taking especial care to rub him down and
+      set before him an ample supply of provender.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I always take care of Goliah myself,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;He's a good friend to me,
+      and it's no more than right that I should take good care of him. Now,
+      we'll go into the house, and see what we can get for supper.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was surprised to see that Paul hung back, and seemed disinclined to
+      follow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the matter?&rdquo; asked Mr. Stubbs, in surprise. &ldquo;Why don't you come?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because,&rdquo; said Paul, looking embarrassed, &ldquo;I've got no money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I have,&rdquo; said Mr. Stubbs, &ldquo;and that will answer just as well, so
+      come along, and don't be bashful. I'm about as hungry as a bear, and I
+      guess you are too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Before many minutes, Paul sat down to a more bountiful repast than he had
+      partaken of for many a day. There were warm biscuits and fresh butter,
+      such as might please the palate of an epicure, while at the other end of
+      the table was a plate of cake, flanked on one side by an apple-pie, on the
+      other by one of pumpkin, with its rich golden hue, such as is to be found
+      in its perfection, only in New England. It will scarcely be doubted that
+      our hungry travellers did full justice to the fare set before them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When they had finished, they went into the public room, where were engaged
+      some of the village worthies, intent on discussing the news and the
+      political questions of the day. It was a time of considerable political
+      excitement, and this naturally supplied the topic of conversation. In this
+      the pedler joined, for his frequent travel on this route had made him
+      familiarly acquainted with many of those present.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul sat in a corner, trying to feel interested in the conversation; but
+      the day had been a long one, and he had undergone an unusual amount of
+      fatigue. Gradually, his drowsiness increased. The many voices fell upon
+      his ears like a lullaby, and in a few minutes he was fast asleep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Early next morning they were up and on their way. It was the second
+      morning since Paul's departure. Already a sense of freedom gave his
+      spirits unwonted elasticity, and encouraged him to hope for the best. Had
+      his knowledge of the future been greater, his confidence might have been
+      less. But would he have been any happier?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So many miles separated him from his late home, that he supposed himself
+      quite safe from detection. A slight circumstance warned him that he must
+      still be watchful and cautious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As they were jogging easily along, they heard the noise of wheels at a
+      little distance. Paul looked up. To his great alarms he recognized in the
+      driver of the approaching vehicle, one of the selectmen of Wrenville.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the matter?&rdquo; asked his companion, noticing his sudden look of
+      apprehension.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul quickly communicated the ground of his alarm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you are afraid he will want to carry you back, are you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a bit of it. We'll circumvent the old fellow, unless he's sharper
+      than I think he is. You've only got to do as I tell you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      To this Paul quickly agreed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The selectman was already within a hundred rods. He had not yet apparently
+      noticed the pedler's cart, so that this was in our hero's favor. Mr.
+      Stubbs had already arranged his plan of operations.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is what you are to do, Paul,&rdquo; said he, quickly. &ldquo;Cock your hat on
+      the side of your head, considerably forward, so that he can't see much of
+      your face. Then here's a cigar to stick in your mouth. You can make
+      believe that you are smoking. If you are the sort of boy I reckon you are,
+      he'll never think it's you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul instantly adopted this suggestion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Slipping his hat to one side in the jaunty manner characteristic of young
+      America, he began to puff very gravely at a cigar the pedler handed him,
+      frequently taking it from his mouth, as he had seen older persons do, to
+      knock away the ashes. Nothwithstanding his alarm, his love of fun made him
+      enjoy this little stratagem, in which he bore his part successfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The selectman eyed him intently. Paul began to tremble from fear of
+      discovery, but his apprehensions were speedily dissipated by a remark of
+      the new-comer, &ldquo;My boy, you are forming a very bad habit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul did not dare to answer lest his voice should betray him. To his
+      relief, the pedler spoke&mdash;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just what I tell him, sir, but I suppose he thinks he must do as his
+      father does.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      By this time the vehicles had passed each other, and the immediate peril
+      was over.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, Paul,&rdquo; said his companion, laughing, &ldquo;I'll trouble you for that
+      cigar, if you have done with it. The old gentleman's advice was good. If
+      I'd never learned to smoke, I wouldn't begin now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Our hero was glad to take the cigar from his mouth. The brief time he had
+      held it was sufficient to make him slightly dizzy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XIII.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      PAUL REACHES THE CITY.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Towards evening they drew up before a small house with a neat yard in
+      front.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I guess we'll get out here,&rdquo; said Mr. Stubbs. &ldquo;There's a gentleman lives
+      here that I feel pretty well acquainted with. Shouldn't wonder if he'd let
+      us stop over Sunday. Whoa, Goliah, glad to get home, hey?&rdquo; as the horse
+      pricked up his ears and showed manifest signs of satisfaction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, youngster, follow me, and I guess I can promise you some supper, if
+      Mrs. Stubbs hasn't forgotten her old tricks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They passed through the entry into the kitchen, where Mrs. Stubbs was
+      discovered before the fire toasting slices of bread.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lor, Jehoshaphat,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;I didn't expect you so soon,&rdquo; and she
+      looked inquiringly at his companion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A young friend who is going to stay with us till Monday,&rdquo; explained the
+      pedler. &ldquo;His name is Paul Prescott.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm glad to see you, Paul,&rdquo; said Mrs. Stubbs with a friendly smile. &ldquo;You
+      must be tired if you've been traveling far. Take a seat. Here's a
+      rocking-chair for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This friendly greeting made Paul feel quite at home. Having no children,
+      the pedler and his wife exerted themselves to make the time pass
+      pleasantly to their young acquaintance. Paul could not help contrasting
+      them with Mr. and Mrs. Mudge, not very much to the advantage of the
+      latter. On Sunday he went to church with them, and the peculiar
+      circumstances in which he was placed, made him listen to the sermon with
+      unusual attention. It was an exposition of the text, &ldquo;My help cometh from
+      the Lord,&rdquo; and Paul could not help feeling that it was particularly
+      applicable to his own case. It encouraged him to hope, that, however
+      uncertain his prospects appeared, God would help him if he put his trust
+      in Him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On Monday morning Paul resumed his journey, with an ample stock of
+      provisions supplied by Mrs. Stubbs, in the list of which doughnuts
+      occupied a prominent place; this being at the particular suggestion of Mr.
+      Stubbs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Forty or fifty miles remained to be traversed before his destination would
+      be reached. The road was not a difficult one to find, and he made it out
+      without much questioning. The first night, he sought permission to sleep
+      in a barn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He met with a decided refusal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was about to turn away in disappointment, when he was called back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a little too fast, youngster. I said I wouldn't let you sleep in
+      my barn, and I won't; but I've got a spare bed in the house, and if you
+      choose you shall occupy it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Under the guise of roughness, this man had a kind heart. He inquired into
+      the particulars of Paul's story, and at the conclusion terrified him by
+      saying that he had been very foolish and ought to be sent back.
+      Nevertheless, when Paul took leave of him the next morning, he did not go
+      away empty-handed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you must be so foolish as to set up for yourself, take this,&rdquo; said the
+      farmer, placing half a dollar in his hand. &ldquo;You may reach the city after
+      the banks are closed for the day, you know,&rdquo; he added, jocularly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But it was in the morning that Paul came in sight of the city. He climbed
+      up into a high tree, which, having the benefit of an elevated situation,
+      afforded him an extensive prospect. Before him lay the great city of which
+      he had so often heard, teeming with life and activity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Half in eager anticipation, half in awe and wonder at its vastness, our
+      young pilgrim stood upon the threshold of this great Babel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Everything looked new and strange. It had never entered Paul's mind, that
+      there could be so many houses in the whole State as now rose up before
+      him. He got into Broadway, and walked on and on thinking that the street
+      must end somewhere. But the farther he walked the thicker the houses
+      seemed crowded together. Every few rods, too, he came to a cross street,
+      which seemed quite as densely peopled as the one on which he was walking.
+      One part of the city was the same as another to Paul, since he was equally
+      a stranger to all. He wandered listlessly along, whither fancy led. His
+      mind was constantly excited by the new and strange objects which met him
+      at every step.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he was looking in at a shop window, a boy of about his own age, stopped
+      and inquired confidentially, &ldquo;when did you come from the country?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This morning,&rdquo; said Paul, wondering how a stranger should know that he
+      was a country boy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Could you tell me what is the price of potatoes up your way?&rdquo; asked the
+      other boy, with perfect gravity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; said Paul, innocently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm sorry for that,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;as I have got to buy some for my
+      wife and family.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul stared in surprise for a moment, and then realizing that he was being
+      made game of, began to grow angry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'd better go home to your wife and family,&rdquo; he said with spirit, &ldquo;or
+      you may get hurt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bully for you, country!&rdquo; answered the other with a laugh. &ldquo;You're not as
+      green as you look.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said Paul, &ldquo;I wish I could say as much for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Tired with walking, Paul at length sat down in a doorway, and watched with
+      interest the hurrying crowds that passed before him. Everybody seemed to
+      be in a hurry, pressing forward as if life and death depended on his
+      haste. There were lawyers with their sharp, keen glances; merchants with
+      calculating faces; speculators pondering on the chances of a rise or fall
+      in stocks; errand boys with bundles under their arms; business men
+      hurrying to the slip to take the boat for Brooklyn or Jersey City,&mdash;all
+      seemed intent on business of some kind, even to the ragged newsboys who
+      had just obtained their supply of evening papers, and were now crying them
+      at the top of their voices,&mdash;and very discordant ones at that, so
+      Paul thought. Of the hundreds passing and repassing before him, every one
+      had something to do. Every one had a home to go to. Perhaps it was not
+      altogether strange that a feeling of desolation should come over Paul as
+      he recollected that he stood alone, homeless, friendless, and, it might
+      be, shelterless for the coming night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yet,&rdquo; thought he with something of hopefulness, &ldquo;there must be something
+      for me to do as well as the rest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Just then a boy some two years older than Paul paced slowly by, and in
+      passing, chanced to fix his eyes upon our hero. He probably saw something
+      in Paul which attracted him, for he stepped up and extending his hand,
+      said, &ldquo;why, Tom, how came you here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My name isn't Tom,&rdquo; said Paul, feeling a little puzzled by this address.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, so it isn't. But you look just like my friend, Tom Crocker.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      To this succeeded a few inquiries, which Paul unsuspiciously answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you like oysters?&rdquo; inquired the new-comer, after a while.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very much.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I know of a tip top place to get some, just round the corner.
+      Wouldn't you like some?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul thanked his new acquaintance, and said he would.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Without more ado, his companion ushered him into a basement room near by.
+      He led the way into a curtained recess, and both boys took seats one on
+      each side of a small table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just pull the bell, will you, and tell the waiter we'll have two stews.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul did so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose,&rdquo; continued the other, &ldquo;the governor wouldn't like it much if
+      he knew where I was.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The governor!&rdquo; repeated Paul. &ldquo;Why, it isn't against the laws, is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; laughed the other. &ldquo;I mean my father. How jolly queer you are!&rdquo; He
+      meant to say green, but had a purpose in not offending Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you the Governor's son?&rdquo; asked Paul in amazement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To be sure,&rdquo; carelessly replied the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul's wonder had been excited many times in the course of the day, but
+      this was more surprising than anything which had yet befallen him. That he
+      should have the luck to fall in with the son of the Governor, on his first
+      arrival in the city, and that the latter should prove so affable and
+      condescending, was indeed surprising. Paul inwardly determined to mention
+      it in his first letter to Aunt Lucy. He could imagine her astonishment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While he was busy with these thoughts, his companion had finished his
+      oysters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Most through?&rdquo; he inquired nonchalantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've got to step out a minute; wait till I come back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul unsuspectingly assented.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He heard his companion say a word to the barkeeper, and then go out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He waited patiently for fifteen minutes and he did not return; another
+      quarter of an hour, and he was still absent. Thinking he might have been
+      unexpectedly detained, he rose to go, but was called back by the
+      barkeeper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hallo, youngster! are you going off without paying?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For what?&rdquo; inquired Paul, in surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For the oysters, of course. You don't suppose I give 'em away, do you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought,&rdquo; hesitated Paul, &ldquo;that the one who was with me paid,&mdash;the
+      Governor's son,&rdquo; he added, conscious of a certain pride in his intimacy
+      with one so nearly related to the chief magistrate of the Commonwealth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Governor's son,&rdquo; laughed the barkeeper. &ldquo;Why the Governor lives a
+      hundred miles off and more. That wasn't the Governor's son any more than I
+      am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He called his father governor,&rdquo; said Paul, beginning to be afraid that he
+      had made some ridiculous blunder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I wouldn't advise you to trust him again, even if he's the
+      President's son. He only got you in here to pay for his oysters. He told
+      me when he went out that you would pay for them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And didn't he say he was coming back?&rdquo; asked Paul, quite dumbfounded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He said you hadn't quite finished, but would pay for both when you came
+      out. It's two shillings.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul rather ruefully took out the half dollar which constituted his entire
+      stock of money, and tendered it to the barkeeper who returned him the
+      change.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So Paul went out into the streets, with his confidence in human nature
+      somewhat lessened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Here, then, is our hero with twenty-five cents in his pocket, and his
+      fortune to make.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XIV.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      A STRANGE BED-CHAMBER.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Although Paul could not help being vexed at having been so cleverly taken
+      in by his late companion, he felt the better for having eaten the oysters.
+      Carefully depositing his only remaining coin in his pocket, he resumed his
+      wanderings. It is said that a hearty meal is a good promoter of
+      cheerfulness. It was so in Paul's case, and although he had as yet had no
+      idea where he should find shelter for the night he did not allow that
+      consideration to trouble him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So the day passed, and the evening came on. Paul's appetite returned to
+      him once more. He invested one-half of his money at an old woman's stall
+      for cakes and apples, and then he ate leisurely while leaning against the
+      iron railing which encircles the park.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He began to watch with interest the movements of those about him. Already
+      the lamplighter had started on his accustomed round, and with ladder in
+      hand was making his way from one lamp-post to another. Paul quite
+      marvelled at the celerity with which the lamps were lighted, never before
+      having witnessed the use of gas. He was so much interested in the process
+      that he sauntered along behind the lamplighter for some time. At length
+      his eye fell upon a group common enough in our cities, but new to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      An Italian, short and dark-featured, with a velvet cap, was grinding out
+      music from a hand-organ, while a woman with a complexion equally dark, and
+      black sorrowful-looking eyes, accompanied her husband on the tambourine.
+      They were playing a lively tune as Paul came up, but quickly glided into
+      &ldquo;Home, Sweet Home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul listened with pleased, yet sad interest, for him &ldquo;home&rdquo; was only a
+      sad remembrance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He wandered on, pausing now and then to look into one of the brilliantly
+      illuminated shop windows, or catching a glimpse through the open doors of
+      the gay scene within, and as one after another of these lively scenes
+      passed before him, he began to think that all the strange and wonderful
+      things in the world must be collected in these rich stores.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next, he came to a place of public amusement. Crowds were entering
+      constantly, and Paul, from curiosity, entered too. He passed on to a
+      little wicket, when a man stopped him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where's your ticket?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I haven't got any,&rdquo; said Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then what business have you here?&rdquo; said the man, roughly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Isn't this a meeting-house?&rdquo; asked Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This remark seemed to amuse two boys who were standing by. Looking up with
+      some indignation, Paul recognized in one of them the boy who had cheated
+      him out of the oysters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look here,&rdquo; said Paul, &ldquo;what made you go off and leave me to pay for the
+      oysters this morning?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which of us do you mean?&rdquo; inquired the 'governor's son,' carelessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Really, I don't understand your meaning. Perhaps you mistake me for
+      somebody else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What?&rdquo; said Paul, in great astonishment. &ldquo;Don't you remember me, and how
+      you told me you were the Governor's son?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Both boys laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must be mistaken. I haven't the honor of being related to the
+      distinguished gentleman you name.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The speaker made a mocking bow to Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know that,&rdquo; said Paul, with spirit, &ldquo;but you said you were, for all
+      that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It must have been some other good-looking boy, that you are mistaking me
+      for. What are you going to do about it? I hope, by the way, that the
+      oysters agreed with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, they did,&rdquo; said Paul, &ldquo;for I came honestly by them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's got you there, Gerald,&rdquo; said the other boy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul made his way out of the theater. As his funds were reduced to twelve
+      cents, he could not have purchased a ticket if he had desired it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Still he moved on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Soon he came to another building, which was in like manner lighted up, but
+      not so brilliantly as the theater. This time, from the appearance of the
+      building, and from the tall steeple,&mdash;so tall that his eye could
+      scarcely reach the tapering spire,&mdash;he knew that it must be a church.
+      There was not such a crowd gathered about the door as at the place he had
+      just left, but he saw a few persons entering, and he joined them. The
+      interior of the church was far more gorgeous than the plain village
+      meeting-house which he had been accustomed to attend with his mother. He
+      gazed about him with a feeling of awe, and sank quietly into a back pew.
+      As it was a week-day evening, and nothing of unusual interest was
+      anticipated, there were but few present, here and there one, scattered
+      through the capacious edifice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By-and-by the organist commenced playing, and a flood of music, grander
+      and more solemn than he had ever heard, filled the whole edifice. He
+      listened with rapt attention and suspended breath till the last note died
+      away, and then sank back upon the richly cushioned seat with a feeling of
+      enjoyment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the services which followed he was not so much interested. The
+      officiating clergyman delivered a long homily in a dull unimpassioned
+      manner, which failed to awaken his interest. Already disposed to be
+      drowsy, it acted upon him like a gentle soporific. He tried to pay
+      attention as he had always been used to do, but owing to his occupying a
+      back seat, and the low voice of the preacher, but few words reached him,
+      and those for the most part were above his comprehension.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Gradually the feeling of fatigue&mdash;for he had been walking the streets
+      all day&mdash;became so powerful that his struggles to keep awake became
+      harder and harder. In vain he sat erect, resolved not to yield. The moment
+      afterwards his head inclined to one side; the lights began to swim before
+      his eyes; the voice of the preacher subsided into a low and
+      undistinguishable hum. Paul's head sank upon the cushion, his bundle,
+      which had been his constant companion during the day, fell softly to the
+      floor, and he fell into a deep sleep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile the sermon came to a close, and another hymn was sung, but even
+      the music was insufficient to wake our hero now. So the benediction was
+      pronounced, and the people opened the doors of their pews and left the
+      church.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Last of all the sexton walked up and down the aisles, closing such of the
+      pew doors as were open. Then he shut off the gas, and after looking around
+      to see that nothing was forgotten, went out, apparently satisfied, and
+      locked the outer door behind him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul, meanwhile, wholly unconscious of his situation, slept on as
+      tranquilly as if there were nothing unusual in the circumstances in which
+      he was placed. Through the stained windows the softened light fell upon
+      his tranquil countenance, on which a smile played, as if his dreams were
+      pleasant. What would Aunt Lucy have thought if she could have seen her
+      young friend at this moment?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XV.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      A TURN OF FORTUNE.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Notwithstanding his singular bedchamber, Paul had a refreshing night's
+      sleep from which he did not awake till the sun had fairly risen, and its
+      rays colored by the medium through which they were reflected, streamed in
+      at the windows and rested in many fantastic lines on the richly carved
+      pulpit and luxurious pews.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul sprang to his feet and looked around him in bewilderment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where am I?&rdquo; he exclaimed in astonishment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the momentary confusion of ideas which is apt to follow a sudden
+      awakening, he could not remember where he was, or how he chanced to be
+      there. But in a moment memory came to his aid, and he recalled the events
+      of the preceding day, and saw that he must have been locked up in the
+      church.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How am I going to get out?&rdquo; Paul asked himself in dismay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was the important question just now. He remembered that the village
+      meeting-house which he had been accustomed to attend was rarely opened
+      except on Sundays. What if this should be the case here? It was Thursday
+      morning, and three days must elapse before his release. This would never
+      do. He must seek some earlier mode of deliverance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went first to the windows, but found them so secured that it was
+      impossible for him to get them open. He tried the doors, but found, as he
+      had anticipated, that they were fast. His last resource failing, he was at
+      liberty to follow the dictates of his curiosity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Finding a small door partly open, he peeped within, and found a flight of
+      steep stairs rising before him. They wound round and round, and seemed
+      almost interminable. At length, after he had become almost weary of
+      ascending, he came to a small window, out of which he looked. At his feet
+      lay the numberless roofs of the city, while not far away his eye rested on
+      thousands of masts. The river sparkled in the sun, and Paul, in spite of
+      his concern, could not help enjoying the scene. The sound of horses and
+      carriages moving along the great thoroughfare below came confusedly to his
+      ears. He leaned forward to look down, but the distance was so much greater
+      than he had thought, that he drew back in alarm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What shall I do?&rdquo; Paul asked himself, rather frightened. &ldquo;I wonder if I
+      can stand going without food for three days? I suppose nobody would hear
+      me if I should scream as loud as I could.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul shouted, but there was so much noise in the streets that nobody
+      probably heard him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He descended the staircase, and once more found himself in the body of the
+      church. He went up into the pulpit, but there seemed no hope of escape in
+      that direction. There was a door leading out on one side, but this only
+      led to a little room into which the minister retired before service.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It seemed rather odd to Paul to find himself the sole occupant of so large
+      a building. He began to wonder whether it would not have been better for
+      him to stay in the poorhouse, than come to New York to die of starvation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Just at this moment Paul heard a key rattle in the outer door. Filled with
+      new hope, he ran down the pulpit stairs and out into the porch, just in
+      time to see the entrance of the sexton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sexton started in surprise as his eye fell upon Paul standing before
+      him, with his bundle under his arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where did you come from, and how came you here?&rdquo; he asked with some
+      suspicion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I came in last night, and fell asleep.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So you passed the night here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What made you come in at all?&rdquo; inquired the sexton, who knew enough of
+      boys to be curious upon this point.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I didn't know where else to go,&rdquo; said Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where do you live?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul answered with perfect truth, &ldquo;I don't live anywhere.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! Have you no home?&rdquo; asked the sexton in surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where should you have slept if you hadn't come in here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know, I'm sure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I suppose you don't know where you shall sleep to-night?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul signified that he did not.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knew there were plenty of such cases,&rdquo; said the sexton, meditatively;
+      &ldquo;but I never seemed to realize it before.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How long have you been in New York?&rdquo; was his next inquiry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not very long,&rdquo; said Paul. &ldquo;I only got here yesterday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you don't know anybody in the city?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why did you come here, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I wanted to go somewhere where I could earn a living, and I
+      thought I might find something to do here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But suppose you shouldn't find anything to do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; said Paul, slowly. &ldquo;I haven't thought much about that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, my lad,&rdquo; said the sexton, not unkindly, &ldquo;I can't say your prospects
+      look very bright. You should have good reasons for entering on such an
+      undertaking. I&mdash;I don't think you are a bad boy. You don't look like
+      a bad one,&rdquo; he added, half to himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope not, sir,&rdquo; said Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope not, too. I was going to say that I wish I could help you to some
+      kind of work. If you will come home with me, you shall be welcome to a
+      dinner, and perhaps I may be able to think of something for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul gladly prepared to follow his new acquaintance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is your name?&rdquo; inquired the sexton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Paul Prescott.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That sounds like a good name. I suppose you haven't got much money?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only twelve cents.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bless me! only twelve cents. Poor boy! you are indeed poor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I can work,&rdquo; said Paul, spiritedly. &ldquo;I ought to be able to earn my
+      living.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, yes, that's the way to feel. Heaven helps those who help
+      themselves.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When they were fairly out of the church, Paul had an opportunity of
+      observing his companion's external appearance. He was an elderly man, with
+      harsh features, which would have been forbidding, but for a certain air of
+      benevolence which softened their expression.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As Paul walked along, he related, with less of detail, the story which is
+      already known to the reader. The sexton said little except in the way of
+      questions designed to elicit further particulars, till, at the conclusion
+      he said, &ldquo;Must tell Hester.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At length they came to a small house, in a respectable but not fashionable
+      quarter of the city. One-half of this was occupied by the sexton. He
+      opened the door and led the way into the sitting-room. It was plainly but
+      neatly furnished, the only ornament being one or two engravings cheaply
+      framed and hung over the mantel-piece. They were by no means gems of art,
+      but then, the sexton did not claim to be a connoisseur, and would probably
+      not have understood the meaning of the word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit here a moment,&rdquo; said the sexton, pointing to a chair, &ldquo;I'll go and
+      speak to Hester.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul whiled away the time in looking at the pictures in a copy of &ldquo;The
+      Pilgrim's Progress,&rdquo; which lay on the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the next room sat a woman of perhaps fifty engaged in knitting. It was
+      very easy to see that she could never have possessed the perishable gift
+      of beauty. Hers was one of the faces on which nature has written PLAIN, in
+      unmistakable characters. Yet if the outward features had been a reflex of
+      the soul within, few faces would have been more attractive than that of
+      Hester Cameron. At the feet of the sexton's wife, for such she was,
+      reposed a maltese cat, purring softly by way of showing her contentment.
+      Indeed, she had good reason to be satisfied. In default of children, puss
+      had become a privileged pet, being well fed and carefully shielded from
+      all the perils that beset cat-hood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Home so soon?&rdquo; said Hester inquiringly, as her husband opened the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Hester, and I have brought company with me,&rdquo; said the sexton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Company!&rdquo; repeated his wife. &ldquo;Who is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a poor boy, who was accidentally locked up in the church last
+      night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And he had to stay there all night?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; but perhaps it was lucky for him, for he had no other place to
+      sleep, and not money enough to pay for one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor child!&rdquo; said Hester, compassionately. &ldquo;Is it not terrible to think
+      that any human creature should be without the comforts of a home which
+      even our tabby possesses. It ought to make you thankful that you are so
+      well cared for, Tab.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The cat opened her eyes and winked drowsily at her mistress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So you brought the poor boy home, Hugh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Hester,&mdash;I thought we ought not to begrudge a meal to one less
+      favored by fortune than ourselves. You know we should consider ourselves
+      the almoners of God's bounties.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Surely, Hugh.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knew you would feel so, Hester. And suppose we have the chicken for
+      dinner that I sent in the morning. I begin to have a famous appetite. I
+      think I should enjoy it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hester knew perfectly well that it was for Paul's sake, and not for his
+      own, that her husband spoke. But she so far entered into his feelings,
+      that she determined to expend her utmost skill as cook upon the dinner,
+      that Paul might have at least one good meal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now I will bring the boy in,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I am obliged to go to work, but
+      you will find some way to entertain him, I dare say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you will come out (this he said to Paul), I will introduce you to a
+      new friend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul was kindly welcomed by the sexton's wife, who questioned him in a
+      sympathizing tone about his enforced stay in the church. To all her
+      questions Paul answered in a modest yet manly fashion, so as to produce a
+      decidedly favorable impression upon his entertainer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Our hero was a handsome boy. Just at present he was somewhat thin, not
+      having entirely recovered from the effects of his sickness and poor fare
+      while a member of Mr. Mudge's family; but he was well made, and bade fair
+      to become a stout boy. His manner was free and unembarrassed, and he
+      carried a letter of recommendation in his face. It must be admitted,
+      however that there were two points in which his appearance might have been
+      improved. Both his hands and face had suffered from the dust of travel.
+      His clothes, too, were full of dust.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A single glance told Hester all this, and she resolved to remedy it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She quietly got some water and a towel, and requested Paul to pull off his
+      jacket, which she dusted while he was performing his ablutions. Then, with
+      the help of a comb to arrange his disordered hair, he seemed quite like a
+      new boy, and felt quite refreshed by the operation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Really, it improves him very much,&rdquo; said Hester to herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She couldn't help recalling a boy of her own,&mdash;the only child she
+      ever had,&mdash;who had been accidentally drowned when about the age of
+      Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If he had only lived,&rdquo; she thought, &ldquo;how different might have been our
+      lives.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A thought came into her mind, and she looked earnestly at Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;yes I will speak to Hugh about it,&rdquo; she said, speaking aloud,
+      unconsciously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you speak to me?&rdquo; asked Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&mdash;I was thinking of something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She observed that Paul was looking rather wistfully at a loaf of bread on
+      the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you feel hungry?&rdquo; she asked, kindly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I dare say you have had no breakfast.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have eaten nothing since yesterday afternoon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bless my soul! How hungry you must be!&rdquo; said the good woman, as she
+      bustled about to get a plate of butter and a knife.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She must have been convinced of it by the rapid manner in which the slices
+      of bread and butter disappeared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At one o'clock the sexton came home. Dinner was laid, and Paul partook of
+      it with an appetite little affected by his lunch of the morning. As he
+      rose from the table, he took his cap, and saying, &ldquo;Good-by, I thank you
+      very much for your kindness!&rdquo; he was about to depart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where are you going?&rdquo; asked the sexton, in surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; answered Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stop a minute. Hester, I want to speak to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They went into the sitting-room together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This boy, Hester,&rdquo; he commenced with hesitation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Hugh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has no home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a hard lot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think we should be the worse off if we offered to share our home
+      with him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is like your kind heart, Hugh. Let us go and tell him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We have been talking of you, Paul,&rdquo; said the sexton. &ldquo;We have thought,
+      Hester and myself, that as you had no home and we no child, we should all
+      be the gainers by your staying with us. Do you consent?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Consent!&rdquo; echoed Paul in joyful surprise. &ldquo;How can I ever repay your
+      kindness?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you are the boy we take you for, we shall feel abundantly repaid.
+      Hester, we can give Paul the little bedroom where&mdash;where John used to
+      sleep.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His voice faltered a little, for John was the name of his boy, who had
+      been drowned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XVI.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      YOUNG STUPID.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Paul found the sexton's dwelling very different from his last home, if the
+      Poorhouse under the charge of Mr. and Mrs. Mudge deserved such a name. His
+      present home was an humble one, but he was provided with every needful
+      comfort, and the atmosphere of kindness which surrounded him, gave him a
+      feeling of peace and happiness which he had not enjoyed for a long time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul supposed that he would be at once set to work, and even then would
+      have accounted himself fortunate in possessing such a home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Mr. Cameron had other views for him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you fond of studying?&rdquo; asked the sexton, as they were all three
+      gathered in the little sitting room, an evening or two after Paul first
+      came.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very much!&rdquo; replied our hero.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And would you like to go to school?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, here in New York?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, very much indeed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad to hear you say so, my lad. There is nothing like a good
+      education. If I had a son of my own, I would rather leave him that than
+      money, for while the last may be lost, the first never can be. And though
+      you are not my son, Paul, Providence has in a manner conducted you to me,
+      and I feel responsible for your future. So you shall go to school next
+      Monday morning, and I hope you will do yourself much credit there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you very much,&rdquo; said Paul. &ldquo;I feel very grateful, but&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You surely are not going to object?&rdquo; said the sexton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, but&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Paul, go on,&rdquo; seeing that the boy hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why,&rdquo; said our hero, with a sense of delicacy which did him credit, &ldquo;If I
+      go to school, I shall not be able to earn my board, and shall be living at
+      your expense, though I have no claim upon you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, is that all?&rdquo; said the sexton cheerfully, &ldquo;I was afraid that it was
+      something more serious. As to that, I am not rich, and never expect to be.
+      But what little expense you will be will not ruin me. Besides, when you
+      are grown up and doing well, you can repay me, if I ever need it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I will,&rdquo; said Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mind, if I ever need it,&mdash;not otherwise. There, now, it's a bargain
+      on that condition. You haven't any other objection,&rdquo; seeing that Paul
+      still hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, or at least I should like to ask your advice,&rdquo; said Paul. &ldquo;Just
+      before my father died, he told me of a debt of five hundred dollars which
+      he had not been able to pay. I saw that it troubled him, and I promised to
+      pay it whenever I was able. I don't know but I ought to go to work so as
+      to keep my promise.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said the sexton after a moment's reflection, &ldquo;the best course will
+      be to go to school, at present. Knowledge is power, and a good education
+      will help you to make money by and by. I approve your resolution, my lad,
+      and if you keep it resolutely in mind I have no doubt you will accomplish
+      your object. But the quickest road to success is through the schoolroom.
+      At present you are not able to earn much. Two or three years hence will be
+      time enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul's face brightened as the sexton said this. He instinctively felt that
+      Mr. Cameron was right. He had never forgotten his father's dying
+      injunction, and this was one reason that impelled him to run away from the
+      Almshouse, because he felt that while he remained he never would be in a
+      situation to carry out his father's wishes. Now his duty was reconciled
+      with his pleasure, and he gratefully accepted the sexton's suggestions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next Monday morning, in accordance with the arrangement which had just
+      been agreed upon, Paul repaired to school. He was at once placed in a
+      class, and lessons were assigned him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At first his progress was not rapid. While living in Wrenville he had an
+      opportunity only of attending a country school, kept less than six months
+      in the year, and then not affording advantages to be compared with those
+      of a city school. During his father's sickness, besides, he had been kept
+      from school altogether. Of course all this lost time could not be made up
+      in a moment. Therefore it was that Paul lagged behind his class.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There are generally some in every school, who are disposed to take unfair
+      advantage of their schoolmates, or to ridicule those whom they consider
+      inferior to themselves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was one such in Paul's class. His name was George Dawkins.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was rather a showy boy, and learned easily. He might have stood a class
+      above where he was, if he had not been lazy, and depended too much on his
+      natural talent. As it was, he maintained the foremost rank in his class.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Better be the first man in a village than the second man in Rome,&rdquo; he
+      used to say; and as his present position not only gave him the
+      pre-eminence which he desired, but cost him very little exertion to
+      maintain, he was quite well satisfied with it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This boy stood first in his class, while Paul entered at the foot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He laughed unmercifully at the frequent mistakes of our hero, and
+      jeeringly dubbed him, &ldquo;Young Stupid.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know what Dawkins calls you?&rdquo; asked one of the boys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. What does he call me?&rdquo; asked Paul, seriously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He calls you 'Young Stupid.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul's face flushed painfully. Ridicule was as painful to him as it is to
+      most boys, and he felt the insult deeply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'd fight him if I were you,&rdquo; was the volunteered advice of his
+      informant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Paul. &ldquo;That wouldn't mend the matter. Besides, I don't know but
+      he has some reason for thinking so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't call yourself stupid, do you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, but I am not as far advanced as most boys of my age. That isn't my
+      fault, though. I never had a chance to go to school much. If I had been to
+      school all my life, as Dawkins has, it would be time to find out whether I
+      am stupid or not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you ain't going to do anything about it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You said you wasn't going to fight him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That wouldn't do any good. But I'm going to study up and see if I can't
+      get ahead of him. Don't you think that will be the best way of showing him
+      that he is mistaken?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, capital, but&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you think I can't do it, I suppose,&rdquo; said Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know he is at the head of the class, and you are at the foot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know that,&rdquo; said Paul, resolutely. &ldquo;But wait awhile and see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In some way George Dawkins learned that Paul had expressed the
+      determination to dispute his place. It occasioned him considerable
+      amusement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Halloa, Young Stupid,&rdquo; he called out, at recess.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul did not answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why don't you answer when you are spoken to?&rdquo; he asked angrily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When you call me by my right name,&rdquo; said Paul, quietly, &ldquo;I will answer,
+      and not before.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're mighty independent,&rdquo; sneered Dawkins. &ldquo;I don't know but I may have
+      to teach you manners.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You had better wait till you are qualified,&rdquo; said Paul, coolly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dawkins approached our hero menacingly, but Paul did not look in the least
+      alarmed, and he concluded to attack him with words only.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I understand you have set yourself up as my rival!&rdquo; he said, mockingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not just yet,&rdquo; said Paul, &ldquo;but in time I expect to be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So you expect my place,&rdquo; said Dawkins, glancing about him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We'll talk about that three months hence,&rdquo; said Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't hurt yourself studying,&rdquo; sneered Dawkins, scornfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To this Paul did not deign a reply, but the same day he rose one in his
+      class.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Our hero had a large stock of energy and determination. When he had once
+      set his mind upon a thing, he kept steadily at work till he accomplished
+      it. This is the great secret of success. It sometimes happens that a man
+      who has done nothing will at once accomplish a brilliant success by one
+      spasmodic effort, but such cases are extremely rare.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Slow and sure wins the race,&rdquo; is an old proverb that has a great deal of
+      truth in it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul worked industriously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The kind sexton and his wife, who noticed his assiduity, strove to
+      dissuade him from working so steadily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are working too hard, Paul,&rdquo; they said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do I look pale?&rdquo; asked Paul, pointing with a smile to his red cheeks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, but you will before long.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When I am, I will study less. But you know, Uncle Hugh,&rdquo; so the sexton
+      instructed him to call him, &ldquo;I want to make the most of my present
+      advantages. Besides, there's a particular boy who thinks I am stupid. I
+      want to convince him that he is mistaken.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a little ambitious, then, Paul?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but it isn't that alone. I know the value of knowledge, and I want
+      to secure as much as I can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is an excellent motive, Paul.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you won't make me study less?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not unless I see you are getting sick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul took good care of this. He knew how to play as well as to study, and
+      his laugh on the playground was as merry as any. His cheerful, obliging
+      disposition made him a favorite with his companions. Only George Dawkins
+      held out; he had, for some reason, imbibed a dislike for Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul's industry was not without effect. He gradually gained position in
+      his class.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take care, Dawkins,&rdquo; said one of his companions&mdash;the same one who
+      had before spoken to Paul&mdash;&ldquo;Paul Prescott will be disputing your
+      place with you. He has come up seventeen places in a month.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Much good it'll do him,&rdquo; said Dawkins, contemptuously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For all that, you will have to be careful; I can tell you that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm not in the least afraid. I'm a little too firm in my position to be
+      ousted by Young Stupid.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just wait and see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dawkins really entertained no apprehension. He had unbounded confidence in
+      himself, and felt a sense of power in the rapidity with which he could
+      master a lesson. He therefore did not study much, and though he could not
+      but see that Paul was rapidly advancing, he rejected with scorn the idea
+      that Young Stupid could displace him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This, however, was the object at which Paul was aiming. He had not
+      forgotten the nickname which Dawkins had given him, and this was the
+      revenge which he sought,&mdash;a strictly honorable one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At length the day of his triumph came. At the end of the month the master
+      read off the class-list, and, much to his disgust, George Dawkins found
+      himself playing second fiddle to Young Stupid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XVII.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      BEN'S PRACTICAL JOKE.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Mudge was in the back room, bending over a tub. It was washing-day,
+      and she was particularly busy. She was a driving, bustling woman, and,
+      whatever might be her faults of temper, she was at least industrious and
+      energetic. Had Mr. Mudge been equally so, they would have been better off
+      in a worldly point of view. But her husband was constitutionally lazy, and
+      was never disposed to do more than was needful.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Mudge was in a bad humor that morning. One of the cows had got into
+      the garden through a gap in the fence, and made sad havoc among the
+      cabbages. Now if Mrs. Mudge had a weakness, it was for cabbages. She was
+      excessively fond of them, and had persuaded her husband to set out a large
+      number of plants from which she expected a large crop. They were planted
+      in one corner of the garden, adjoining a piece of land, which, since
+      mowing, had been used for pasturing the cows. There was a weak place in
+      the fence separating the two inclosures, and this Mrs. Mudge had requested
+      her husband to attend to. He readily promised this, and Mrs. Mudge
+      supposed it done, until that same morning, her sharp eyes had detected old
+      Brindle munching the treasured cabbages with a provoking air of enjoyment.
+      The angry lady seized a broom, and repaired quickly to the scene of
+      devastation. Brindle scented the danger from afar, and beat a disorderly
+      retreat, trampling down the cabbages which she had hitherto spared.
+      Leaping over the broken fence, she had just cleared the gap as the
+      broom-handle, missing her, came forcibly down upon the rail, and was
+      snapped in sunder by the blow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Here was a new vexation. Brindle had not only escaped scot-free, but the
+      broom, a new one, bought only the week before, was broken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's a plaguy shame,&rdquo; said Mrs. Mudge, angrily. &ldquo;There's my best broom
+      broken; cost forty-two cents only last week.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned and contemplated the scene of devastation. This yielded her
+      little consolation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At least thirty cabbages destroyed by that scamp of a cow,&rdquo; she exclaimed
+      in a tone bordering on despair. &ldquo;I wish I'd a hit her. If I'd broken my
+      broom over her back I wouldn't a cared so much. And it's all Mudge's
+      fault. He's the most shiftless man I ever see. I'll give him a dressing
+      down, see if I don't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Mudge's eyes snapped viciously, and she clutched the relics of the
+      broom with a degree of energy which rendered it uncertain what sort of a
+      dressing down she intended for her husband.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ten minutes after she had re-entered the kitchen, the luckless man made
+      his appearance. He wore his usual look, little dreaming of the storm that
+      awaited him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm glad you've come,&rdquo; said Mrs. Mudge, grimly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's amiss, now?&rdquo; inquired Mudge, for he understood her look.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's amiss?&rdquo; blazed Mrs. Mudge. &ldquo;I'll let you know. Do you see this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She seized the broken broom and flourished it in his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Broken your broom, have you? You must have been careless.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Careless, was I?&rdquo; demanded Mrs. Mudge, sarcastically. &ldquo;Yes, of course,
+      it's always I that am in fault.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You haven't broken it over the back of any of the paupers, have you?&rdquo;
+       asked her husband, who, knowing his helpmeet's infirmity of temper,
+      thought it possible she might have indulged in such an amusement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I had broken it over anybody's back it would have been yours,&rdquo; said
+      the lady.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mine! what have I been doing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's what you haven't done,&rdquo; said Mrs. Mudge. &ldquo;You're about the laziest
+      and most shiftless man I ever came across.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, what does all this mean?&rdquo; demanded Mr. Mudge, who was getting a
+      little angry in his turn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll let you know. Just look out of that window, will you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Mr. Mudge, innocently, &ldquo;I don't see anything in particular.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't!&rdquo; said Mrs. Mudge with withering sarcasm. &ldquo;Then you'd better
+      put on your glasses. If you'd been here quarter of an hour ago, you'd have
+      seen Brindle among the cabbages.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did she do any harm?&rdquo; asked Mr. Mudge, hastily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's scarcely a cabbage left,&rdquo; returned Mrs. Mudge, purposely
+      exaggerating the mischief done.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you had mended that fence, as I told you to do, time and again, it
+      wouldn't have happened.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You didn't tell me but once,&rdquo; said Mr. Mudge, trying to get up a feeble
+      defence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Once should have been enough, and more than enough. You expect me to
+      slave myself to death in the house, and see to all your work besides. If
+      I'd known what a lazy, shiftless man you were, at the time I married you,
+      I'd have cut off my right hand first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      By this time Mr. Mudge had become angry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you hadn't married me, you'd a died an old maid,&rdquo; he retorted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was too much for Mrs. Mudge to bear. She snatched the larger half of
+      the broom, and fetched it down with considerable emphasis upon the back of
+      her liege lord, who, perceiving that her temper was up, retreated hastily
+      from the kitchen; as he got into the yard he descried Brindle, whose
+      appetite had been whetted by her previous raid, re-entering the garden
+      through the gap.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was an unfortunate attempt on the part of Brindle. Mr. Mudge, angry
+      with his wife, and smarting with the blow from the broomstick, determined
+      to avenge himself upon the original cause of all the trouble. Revenge
+      suggested craft. He seized a hoe, and crept stealthily to the
+      cabbage-plot. Brindle, whose back was turned, did not perceive his
+      approach, until she felt a shower of blows upon her back. Confused at the
+      unexpected attack she darted wildly away, forgetting the gap in the fence,
+      and raced at random over beds of vegetables, uprooting beets, parsnips,
+      and turnips, while Mr. Mudge, mad with rage, followed close in her tracks,
+      hitting her with the hoe whenever he got a chance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Brindle galloped through the yard, and out at the open gate. Thence she
+      ran up the road at the top of her speed, with Mr. Mudge still pursuing
+      her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It may be mentioned here that Mr. Mudge was compelled to chase the
+      terrified cow over two miles before he succeeded with the help of a
+      neighbor in capturing her. All this took time. Meanwhile Mrs. Mudge at
+      home was subjected to yet another trial of her temper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It has already been mentioned that Squire Newcome was Chairman of the
+      Overseers of the Poor. In virtue of his office, he was expected to
+      exercise a general supervision over the Almshouse and its management. It
+      was his custom to call about once a month to look after matters, and
+      ascertain whether any official action or interference was needed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ben saw his father take his gold-headed cane from behind the door, and
+      start down the road. He understood his destination, and instantly the plan
+      of a stupendous practical joke dawned upon him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It'll be jolly fun,&rdquo; he said to himself, his eyes dancing with fun. &ldquo;I'll
+      try it, anyway.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He took his way across the fields, so as to reach the Almshouse before his
+      father. He then commenced his plan of operations.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Mudge had returned to her tub, and was washing away with bitter
+      energy, thinking over her grievances in the matter of Mr. Mudge, when a
+      knock was heard at the front door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Taking her hands from the tub, she wiped them on her apron.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish folks wouldn't come on washing day!&rdquo; she said in a tone of
+      vexation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She went to the door and opened it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was nobody there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought somebody knocked,&rdquo; thought she, a little mystified. &ldquo;Perhaps I
+      was mistaken.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She went back to her tub, and had no sooner got her hands in the suds than
+      another knock was heard, this time on the back door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I declare!&rdquo; said she, in increased vexation, &ldquo;There's another knock. I
+      shan't get through my washing to-day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Again Mrs. Mudge wiped her hands on her apron, and went to the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was nobody there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I need hardly say that it was Ben, who had knocked both times, and
+      instantly dodged round the corner of the house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's some plaguy boy,&rdquo; said Mrs. Mudge, her eyes blazing with anger. &ldquo;Oh,
+      if I could only get hold of him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you wish you could?&rdquo; chuckled Ben to himself, as he caught a sly
+      glimpse of the indignant woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile, Squire Newcome had walked along in his usual slow and dignified
+      manner, until he had reached the front door of the Poorhouse, and knocked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's that plaguy boy again,&rdquo; said Mrs. Mudge, furiously. &ldquo;I won't go this
+      time, but if he knocks again, I'll fix him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She took a dipper of hot suds from the tub in which she had been washing,
+      and crept carefully into the entry, taking up a station close to the front
+      door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder if Mrs. Mudge heard me knock,&rdquo; thought Squire Newcome. &ldquo;I should
+      think she might. I believe I will knock again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This time he knocked with his cane.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rat-tat-tat sounded on the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The echo had not died away, when the door was pulled suddenly open, and a
+      dipper full of hot suds was dashed into the face of the astonished Squire,
+      accompanied with, &ldquo;Take that, you young scamp!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wh&mdash;what does all this mean?&rdquo; gasped Squire Newcome, nearly
+      strangled with the suds, a part of which had found its way into his mouth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg your pardon, Squire Newcome,&rdquo; said the horrified Mrs. Mudge. &ldquo;I
+      didn't mean it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What did you mean, then?&rdquo; demanded Squire Newcome, sternly. &ldquo;I think you
+      addressed me,&mdash;ahem!&mdash;as a scamp.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I didn't mean you,&rdquo; said Mrs. Mudge, almost out of her wits with
+      perplexity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come in, sir, and let me give you a towel. You've no idea how I've been
+      tried this morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I trust,&rdquo; said the Squire, in his stateliest tone, &ldquo;you will be able to
+      give a satisfactory explanation of this, ahem&mdash;extraordinary
+      proceeding.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While Mrs. Mudge was endeavoring to sooth the ruffled dignity of the
+      aggrieved Squire, the &ldquo;young scamp,&rdquo; who had caused all the mischief, made
+      his escape through the fields.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, wasn't it bully!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;I believe I shall die of laughing. I
+      wish Paul had been here to see it. Mrs. Mudge has got herself into a
+      scrape, now, I'm thinking.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Having attained a safe distance from the Poorhouse, Ben doubled himself up
+      and rolled over and over upon the grass, convulsed with laughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'd give five dollars to see it all over again,&rdquo; he said to himself. &ldquo;I
+      never had such splendid fun in my life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently the Squire emerged, his tall dicky looking decidedly limp and
+      drooping, his face expressing annoyance and outraged dignity. Mrs. Mudge
+      attended him to the door with an expression of anxious concern.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I guess I'd better make tracks,&rdquo; said Ben to himself, &ldquo;it won't do for
+      the old gentleman to see me here, or he may smell a rat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He accordingly scrambled over a stone wall and lay quietly hidden behind
+      it till he judged it would be safe to make his appearance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XVIII.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      MORE ABOUT BEN.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Benjamin,&rdquo; said Squire Newcome, two days after the occurrence mentioned
+      in the last chapter, &ldquo;what made the dog howl so this morning? Was you a
+      doing anything to him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I gave him his breakfast,&rdquo; said Ben, innocently. &ldquo;Perhaps he was hungry,
+      and howling for that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not refer to that,&rdquo; said the Squire. &ldquo;He howled as if in pain or
+      terror. I repeat; was you a doing anything to him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ben shifted from one foot to the other, and looked out of the window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I desire a categorical answer,&rdquo; said Squire Newcome.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't know what categorical means,&rdquo; said Ben, assuming a perplexed look.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I desire you to answer me IMMEGIATELY,&rdquo; explained the Squire. &ldquo;What was
+      you a doing to Watch?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was tying a tin-kettle to his tail,&rdquo; said Ben, a little reluctantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what was you a doing that for?&rdquo; pursued the Squire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wanted to see how he would look,&rdquo; said Ben, glancing demurely at his
+      father, out of the corner of his eye.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did it ever occur to you that it must be disagreeable to Watch to have
+      such an appendage to his tail?&rdquo; queried the Squire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; said Ben.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How should you like to have a tin pail suspended to your&mdash;ahem! your
+      coat tail?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I haven't got any coat tail,&rdquo; said Ben, &ldquo;I wear jackets. But I think I am
+      old enough to wear coats. Can't I have one made, father?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ahem!&rdquo; said the Squire, blowing his nose, &ldquo;we will speak of that at some
+      future period.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fred Newell wears a coat, and he isn't any older than I am,&rdquo; persisted
+      Ben, who was desirous of interrupting his father's inquiries.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I apprehend that we are wandering from the question,&rdquo; said the Squire.
+      &ldquo;Would you like to be treated as you treated Watch?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Ben, slowly, &ldquo;I don't know as I should.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then take care not to repeat your conduct of this morning,&rdquo; said his
+      father. &ldquo;Stay a moment,&rdquo; as Ben was about to leave the room hastily. &ldquo;I
+      desire that you should go to the post-office and inquire for letters.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ben left the room and sauntered out in the direction of the post-office.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A chaise, driven by a stranger, stopped as it came up with him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The driver looked towards Ben, and inquired, &ldquo;Boy, is this the way to
+      Sparta?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ben, who was walking leisurely along the path, whistling as he went, never
+      turned his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you deaf, boy?&rdquo; said the driver, impatiently. &ldquo;I want to know if this
+      is the road to Sparta?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ben turned round.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fine morning, sir,&rdquo; he said politely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know that well enough without your telling me. Will you tell me whether
+      this is the road to Sparta?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ben put his hand to his ear, and seemed to listen attentively. Then he
+      slowly shook his head, and said, &ldquo;Would you be kind enough to speak a
+      little louder, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The boy is deaf, after all,&rdquo; said the driver to himself. &ldquo;IS THIS THE
+      ROAD TO SPARTA?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir, this is Wrenville,&rdquo; said Ben, politely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Plague take it! he don't hear me yet. IS THIS THE ROAD TO SPARTA?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just a little louder, if you please,&rdquo; said Ben, keeping his hand to his
+      ear, and appearing anxious to hear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Deaf as a post!&rdquo; muttered the driver. &ldquo;I couldn't scream any louder, if I
+      should try. Go along.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor man! I hope he hasn't injured his voice,&rdquo; thought Ben, his eyes
+      dancing with fun. &ldquo;By gracious!&rdquo; he continued a moment later, bursting
+      into a laugh, &ldquo;if he isn't going to ask the way of old Tom Haven. He's as
+      deaf as I pretended to be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The driver had reined up again, and inquired the way to Sparta.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What did you say?&rdquo; said the old man, putting his hand to his ear. &ldquo;I'm
+      rather hard of hearing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The traveller repeated his question in a louder voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old man shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I guess you'd better ask that boy,&rdquo; he said, pointing to Ben, who by this
+      time had nearly come up with the chaise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have had enough of him,&rdquo; said the traveller, disgusted. &ldquo;I believe
+      you're all deaf in this town. I'll get out of it as soon as possible.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He whipped up his horse, somewhat to the old man's surprise, and drove
+      rapidly away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I desire my young readers to understand that I am describing Ben as he
+      was, and not as he ought to be. There is no doubt that he carried his love
+      of fun too far. We will hope that as he grows older, he will grow wiser.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ben pursued the remainder of his way to the Post-office without any
+      further adventure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Entering a small building appropriated to this purpose, he inquired for
+      letters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's nothing for your father to-day,&rdquo; said the post-master.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps there's something for me,&mdash;Benjamin Newcome, Esq.,&rdquo; said
+      Ben.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me see,&rdquo; said the post-master, putting on his spectacles; &ldquo;yes, I
+      believe there is. Post-marked at New York, too. I didn't know you had any
+      correspondents there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's probably from the Mayor of New York,&rdquo; said Ben, in a tone of comical
+      importance, &ldquo;asking my advice about laying out Central Park.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Probably it is,&rdquo; said the postmaster. &ldquo;It's a pretty thick letter,&mdash;looks
+      like an official document.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      By this time, Ben, who was really surprised by the reception of the
+      letter, had opened it. It proved to be from our hero, Paul Prescott, and
+      inclosed one for Aunt Lucy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Crosby,&rdquo; said Ben, suddenly, addressing the postmaster, &ldquo;you remember
+      about Paul Prescott's running away from the Poorhouse?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I didn't blame the poor boy a bit. I never liked Mudge, and they say
+      his wife is worse than he.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, suppose the town should find out where he is, could they get him
+      back again?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bless you! no. They ain't so fond of supporting paupers. If he's able to
+      earn his own living, they won't want to interfere with him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, this letter is from him,&rdquo; said Ben. &ldquo;He's found a pleasant family
+      in New York, who have adopted him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm glad of it,&rdquo; said Mr. Crosby, heartily. &ldquo;I always liked him. He was a
+      fine fellow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's just what I think. I'll read his letter to you, if you would like
+      to hear it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should, very much. Come in behind here, and sit down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ben went inside the office, and sitting down on a stool, read Paul's
+      letter. As our reader may be interested in the contents, we will take the
+      liberty of looking over Ben's shoulder while he reads.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      New York, Oct. 10, 18&mdash;.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      DEAR BEN:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I have been intending to write to you before, knowing the kind interest
+      which you take in me. I got safely to New York a few days after I left
+      Wrenville. I didn't have so hard a time as I expected, having fallen in
+      with a pedler, who was very kind to me, with whom I rode thirty or forty
+      miles. I wish I had time to tell all the adventures I met with on the way,
+      but I must wait till I see you.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When I got to the city, I was astonished to find how large it was. The
+      first day I got pretty tired wandering about, and strayed into a church in
+      the evening, not knowing where else to go. I was so tired I fell asleep
+      there, and didn't wake up till morning. When I found myself locked up in a
+      great church, I was frightened, I can tell you. It was only Thursday
+      morning, and I was afraid I should have to stay there till Sunday. If I
+      had, I am afraid I should have starved to death. But, fortunately for me,
+      the sexton came in the morning, and let me out. That wasn't all. He very
+      kindly took me home with him, and then told me I might live with him and
+      go to school. I like him very much, and his wife too. I call them Uncle
+      Hugh and Aunt Hester. When you write to me, you must direct to the care of
+      Mr. Hugh Cameron, 10 R&mdash;&mdash; Street. Then it will be sure to reach
+      me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I am going to one of the city schools. At first, I was a good deal
+      troubled because I was so far behind boys of my age. You know I hadn't
+      been to school for a long time before I left Wrenville, on account of
+      father's sickness. But I studied pretty hard, and now I stand very well. I
+      sometimes think, Ben, that you don't care quite so much about study as you
+      ought to. I wish you would come to feel the importance of it. You must
+      excuse me saying this, as we have always been such good friends.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I sometimes think of Mr. and Mrs. Mudge, and wonder whether they miss me
+      much. I am sure Mr. Mudge misses me, for now he is obliged to get up early
+      and milk, unless he has found another boy to do it. If he has, I pity the
+      boy. Write me what they said about my going away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I inclose a letter for Aunt Lucy Lee, which I should like to have you give
+      her with your own hands. Don't trust it to Mrs. Mudge, for she doesn't
+      like Aunt Lucy, and I don't think she would give it to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Write soon, Ben, and I will answer without delay, Your affectionate
+      friend, PAUL PRESCOTT.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's a very good letter,&rdquo; said Mr. Crosby; &ldquo;I am glad Paul is doing so
+      well. I should like to see him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So should I,&rdquo; said Ben; &ldquo;he was a prime fellow,&mdash;twice as good as I
+      am. That's true, what he said about my not liking study. I guess I'll try
+      to do better.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'll make a smart boy if you only try,&rdquo; said the postmaster, with whom
+      Ben was rather a favorite, in spite of his mischievous propensities.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said Ben, laughing, &ldquo;that's what my friend, the mayor of New
+      York, often writes me. But honestly, I know I can do a good deal better
+      than I am doing now. I don't know but I shall turn over a new leaf. I
+      suppose I like fun a little too well. Such jolly sport as I had coming to
+      the office this morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ben related the story of the traveller who inquired the way to Sparta,
+      much to the amusement of the postmaster, who, in his enjoyment of the
+      joke, forgot to tell Ben that his conduct was hardly justifiable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said Ben, &ldquo;as soon as I have been home, I must go and see my
+      particular friend, Mrs. Mudge. I'm a great favorite of hers,&rdquo; he added,
+      with a sly wink.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XIX.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      MRS. MUDGE'S DISCOMFITURE.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Ben knocked at the door of the Poorhouse. In due time Mrs. Mudge appeared.
+      She was a little alarmed on seeing Ben, not knowing how Squire Newcome
+      might be affected by the reception she had given him on his last visit.
+      Accordingly she received him with unusual politeness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you do, Master Newcome?&rdquo; she inquired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As well as could be expected,&rdquo; said Ben, hesitatingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, is there anything the matter with you?&rdquo; inquired Mrs. Mudge, her
+      curiosity excited by his manner of speaking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No one can tell what I suffer from rheumatism,&rdquo; said Ben, sadly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was very true, since not even Ben himself could have told.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very young to be troubled in that way,&rdquo; said Mrs. Mudge, &ldquo;and how
+      is your respected father, to-day?&rdquo; she inquired, with some anxiety.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was just going to ask you, Mrs. Mudge,&rdquo; said Ben, &ldquo;whether anything
+      happened to disturb him when he called here day before yesterday?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why,&rdquo; said Mrs. Mudge, turning a little pale, &ldquo;Nothing of any
+      consequence,&mdash;that is, not much. What makes you ask?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought it might be so from his manner,&rdquo; said Ben, enjoying Mrs.
+      Mudge's evident alarm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There was a little accident,&rdquo; said Mrs. Mudge, reluctantly. &ldquo;Some
+      mischievous boy had been knocking and running away; so, when your father
+      knocked, I thought it might be he, and&mdash;and I believe I threw some
+      water on him. But I hope he has forgiven it, as it wasn't intentional. I
+      should like to get hold of that boy,&rdquo; said Mrs. Mudge, wrathfully, &ldquo;I
+      should like to shake him up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you any idea who it was?&rdquo; asked Ben, gravely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Mrs. Mudge, &ldquo;I haven't, but I shall try to find out. Whoever it
+      is, he's a scamp.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very complimentary old lady,&rdquo; thought Ben. He said in a sober tone, which
+      would have imposed upon any one, &ldquo;There are a good many mischievous boys
+      around here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Mudge grimly assented.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, by the way, Mrs. Mudge,&rdquo; asked Ben, suddenly, &ldquo;have you ever heard
+      anything of Paul Prescott since he left you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; snapped Mrs. Mudge, her countenance growing dark, &ldquo;I haven't. But I
+      can tell pretty well where he is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the penitentiary. At any rate, if he isn't, he ought to be. But what
+      was you wanting?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want to see Mrs. Lee.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt Lucy Lee?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. I've got a letter for her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you'll give me the letter I'll carry it to her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said Ben, &ldquo;but I would like to see her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind,&rdquo; thought Mrs. Mudge, &ldquo;I'll get hold of it yet. I shouldn't
+      wonder at all if it was from that rascal, Paul.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Poor Paul! It was fortunate that he had some better friends than Mr. and
+      Mrs. Mudge, otherwise he would have been pretty poorly off.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Aunt Lucy came to the door. Ben placed the letter in her hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it from Paul?&rdquo; she asked, hopefully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Ben.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She opened it eagerly. &ldquo;Is he well?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, well and happy,&rdquo; said Ben, who treated the old lady, for whom he had
+      much respect, very differently from Mrs. Mudge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm truly thankful for that,&rdquo; said Aunt Lucy; &ldquo;I've laid awake more than
+      one night thinking of him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So has Mrs. Mudge, I'm thinking,&rdquo; said Ben, slyly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Aunt Lucy laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There isn't much love lost between them,&rdquo; said Aunt Lucy, smiling. &ldquo;He
+      was very badly treated here, poor boy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was he, though?&rdquo; repeated Mrs. Mudge? who had been listening at the
+      keyhole, but not in an audible voice. &ldquo;Perhaps he will be again, if I get
+      him back. I thought that letter was from Paul. I must get hold of it some
+      time to-day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe I must go,&rdquo; said Ben. &ldquo;If you answer the letter, I will put it
+      into the office for you. I shall be passing here to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very kind,&rdquo; said Aunt Lucy. &ldquo;I am very much obliged to you for
+      bringing me this letter to-day. You can't tell how happy it makes me. I
+      have been so afraid the dear boy might be suffering.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's no trouble at all,&rdquo; said Ben.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She's a pretty good woman,&rdquo; thought he, as he left the house. &ldquo;I wouldn't
+      play a trick on her for a good deal. But that Mrs. Mudge is a hard case. I
+      wonder what she would have said if she had known that I was the 'scamp'
+      that troubled her so much Monday. If I had such a mother as that, by
+      jingo, I'd run away to sea.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Mudge was bent upon reading Aunt Lucy's letter. Knowing it to be from
+      Paul, she had a strong curiosity to know what had become of him. If she
+      could only get him back! Her heart bounded with delight as she thought of
+      the annoyances to which, in that case, she could subject him. It would be
+      a double triumph over him and Aunt Lucy, against whom she felt that mean
+      spite with which a superior nature is often regarded by one of a lower
+      order.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After some reflection, Mrs. Mudge concluded that Aunt Lucy would probably
+      leave the letter in the little chest which was appropriated to her use,
+      and which was kept in the room where she slept. The key of this chest had
+      been lost, and although Aunt Lucy had repeatedly requested that a new one
+      should be obtained, Mrs. Mudge had seen fit to pay no attention to her
+      request, as it would interfere with purposes of her own, the character of
+      which may easily be guessed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As she suspected, Paul's letter had been deposited in this chest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Accordingly, the same afternoon, she left her work in the kitchen in order
+      to institute a search for it. As a prudent precaution, however, she just
+      opened the door of the common room, to make sure that Aunt Lucy was at
+      work therein.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She made her way upstairs, and entering the room in which the old lady
+      lodged, together with two others, she at once went to the chest and opened
+      it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She began to rummage round among the old lady's scanty treasures, and at
+      length, much to her joy, happened upon the letter, laid carefully away in
+      one corner of the chest. She knew it was the one she sought, from the
+      recent postmark, and the address, which was in the unformed handwriting of
+      a boy. To make absolutely certain, she drew the letter from the envelope
+      and looked at the signature.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was right, as she saw at a glance. It was from Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now I'll see what the little rascal has to say for himself,&rdquo; she
+      muttered, &ldquo;I hope he's in distress; oh, how I'd like to get hold of him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Mudge began eagerly to read the letter, not dreaming of interruption.
+      But she was destined to be disappointed. To account for this we must
+      explain that, shortly after Mrs. Mudge looked into the common room, Aunt
+      Lucy was reminded of something essential, which she had left upstairs. She
+      accordingly laid down her work upon the chair in which she had been
+      sitting, and went up to her chamber.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Mudge was too much preoccupied to hear the advancing steps.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the old lady entered the chamber, what was her mingled indignation and
+      dismay at seeing Mrs. Mudge on her knees before <i>her</i> chest, with the
+      precious letter, whose arrival had gladdened her so much, in her hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are you doing there, Mrs. Mudge?&rdquo; she said, sternly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Mudge rose from her knees in confusion. Even she had the grace to be
+      ashamed of her conduct.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Put down that letter,&rdquo; said the old lady in an authoritative voice quite
+      new to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Mudge, who had not yet collected her scattered senses, did as she was
+      requested.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Aunt Lucy walked hastily to the chest, and closed it, first securing the
+      letter, which she put in her pocket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope it will be safe, now,&rdquo; she said, rather contemptuously. &ldquo;Ain't you
+      ashamed of yourself, Mrs. Mudge?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ashamed of myself!&rdquo; shrieked that amiable lady, indignant with herself
+      for having quailed for a moment before the old lady.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean&mdash;you&mdash;you pauper?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I may be a pauper,&rdquo; said Aunt Lucy, calmly, &ldquo;But I am thankful to say
+      that I mind my own business, and don't meddle with other people's chests.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A red spot glowed on either cheek of Mrs. Mudge. She was trying hard to
+      find some vantage-ground over the old lady.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you mean to say that I don't mind my business?&rdquo; she blustered, folding
+      her arms defiantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What were you at my trunk for?&rdquo; said the old lady, significantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because it was my duty,&rdquo; was the brazen reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Mudge had rapidly determined upon her line of defense, and thought it
+      best to carry the war into the enemy's country.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I felt sure that your letter was from Paul Prescott, and as he ran
+      away from my husband and me, who were his lawful guardians, it was my duty
+      to take that means of finding out where he is. I knew that you were in
+      league with him, and would do all you could to screen him. This is why I
+      went to your chest, and I would do it again, if necessary.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps you have been before,&rdquo; said Aunt Lucy, scornfully. &ldquo;I think I
+      understand, now, why you were unwilling to give me another key.
+      Fortunately there has been nothing there until now to reward your search.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You impudent trollop!&rdquo; shrieked Mrs. Mudge, furiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her anger was the greater, because Aunt Lucy was entirely correct in her
+      supposition that this was not the first visit her landlady had made to the
+      little green chest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll give Paul the worst whipping he ever had, when I get him back,&rdquo; said
+      Mrs. Mudge, angrily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is beyond your reach, thank Providence,&rdquo; said Aunt Lucy, whose
+      equanimity was not disturbed by this menace, which she knew to be an idle
+      one. &ldquo;That is enough for you to know. I will take care that you never have
+      another chance to see this letter. And if you ever go to my chest again&rdquo;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, ma'am, what then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall appeal for protection to 'Squire Newcome.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hoity, toity,&rdquo; said Mrs. Mudge, but she was a little alarmed,
+      nevertheless, as such an appeal would probably be prejudicial to her
+      interest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So from time to time Aunt Lucy received, through Ben, letters from Paul,
+      which kept her acquainted with his progress at school. These letters were
+      very precious to the old lady, and she read them over many times. They
+      formed a bright link of interest which bound her to the outside world, and
+      enabled her to bear up with greater cheerfulness against the tyranny of
+      Mrs. Mudge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XX.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      PAUL OBTAINS A SITUATION.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      The month after Paul Prescott succeeded in reaching the head of his class,
+      George Dawkins exerted himself to rise above him. He studied better than
+      usual, and proved in truth a formidable rival. But Paul's spirit was
+      roused. He resolved to maintain his position if possible. He had now
+      become accustomed to study, and it cost him less effort. When the end of
+      the month came, there was considerable speculation in the minds of the
+      boys as to the result of the rivalry. The majority had faith in Paul, but
+      there were some who, remembering how long Dawkins had been at the head of
+      the class, thought he would easily regain his lost rank.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The eventful day, the first of the month, at length came, and the
+      class-list was read.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul Prescott ranked first.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      George Dawkins ranked second.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A flush spread over the pale face of Dawkins, and he darted a malignant
+      glance at Paul, who was naturally pleased at having retained his rank.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dawkins had his satellites. One of these came to him at recess, and
+      expressed his regret that Dawkins had failed of success.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dawkins repelled the sympathy with cold disdain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you suppose I care for the head of the class?&rdquo; he demanded,
+      haughtily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought you had been studying for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you thought wrong. Let the sexton's son have it, if he wants it. It
+      would be of no use to me, as I leave this school at the end of the week.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Leave school!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The boys gathered about Dawkins, curiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it really so, Dawkins?&rdquo; they inquired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Dawkins, with an air of importance; &ldquo;I shall go to a private
+      school, where the advantages are greater than here. My father does not
+      wish me to attend a public school any longer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This statement was made on the spur of the moment, to cover the
+      mortification which his defeat had occasioned him. It proved true,
+      however. On his return home, Dawkins succeeded in persuading his father to
+      transfer him to a private school, and he took away his books at the end of
+      the week. Had he recovered his lost rank there is no doubt that he would
+      have remained.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Truth to tell, there were few who mourned much for the departure of George
+      Dawkins. He had never been a favorite. His imperious temper and arrogance
+      rendered this impossible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After he left school, Paul saw little of him for two or three years. At
+      their first encounter Paul bowed and spoke pleasantly, but Dawkins looked
+      superciliously at him without appearing to know him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul's face flushed proudly, and afterwards he abstained from making
+      advances which were likely to be repulsed. He had too much self-respect to
+      submit voluntarily to such slights.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile Paul's school life fled rapidly. It was a happy time,&mdash;happy
+      in its freedom from care, and happy for him, though all school boys do not
+      appreciate that consideration, in the opportunities for improvement which
+      it afforded. These opportunities, it is only just to Paul to say, were
+      fully improved. He left school with an enviable reputation, and with the
+      good wishes of his schoolmates and teachers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul was now sixteen years old, a stout, handsome boy, with a frank, open
+      countenance, and a general air of health which formed quite a contrast to
+      the appearance he presented when he left the hospitable mansion which Mr.
+      Nicholas Mudge kept open at the public expense.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul was now very desirous of procuring a situation. He felt that it was
+      time he was doing something for himself. He was ambitious to relieve the
+      kind sexton and his wife of some portion, at least, of the burden of his
+      support.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Besides, there was the legacy of debt which his father had bequeathed him.
+      Never for a moment had Paul forgotten it. Never for a moment had he
+      faltered in his determination to liquidate it at whatever sacrifice to
+      himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My father's name shall be cleared,&rdquo; he said to himself, proudly. &ldquo;Neither
+      Squire Conant nor any one else shall have it in his power to cast reproach
+      upon his memory.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The sexton applauded his purpose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are quite right, Paul,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;But you need not feel in haste.
+      Obtain your education first, and the money will come by-and-by. As long as
+      you repay the amount, principal and interest, you will have done all that
+      you are in honor bound to do. Squire Conant, as I understand from you, is
+      a rich man, so that he will experience no hardship in waiting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul was now solicitous about a place. The sexton had little influence, so
+      that he must depend mainly upon his own inquiries.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went into the reading-room of the Astor House every day to look over
+      the advertised wants in the daily papers. Every day he noted down some
+      addresses, and presented himself as an applicant for a position.
+      Generally, however, he found that some one else had been before him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One day his attention was drawn to the following advertisement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;WANTED. A smart, active, wide-awake boy, of sixteen or seventeen, in a
+      retail dry-goods store. Apply immediately at&mdash;Broadway.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul walked up to the address mentioned. Over the door he read, &ldquo;Smith
+      &amp; Thompson.&rdquo; This, then, was the firm that had advertised.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The store ran back some distance. There appeared to be six or eight clerks
+      in attendance upon quite a respectable number of customers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is Mr. Smith in?&rdquo; inquired Paul, of the nearest clerk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'll find him at the lower end of the store. How many yards, ma'am?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This last was of course addressed to a customer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul made his way, as directed, to the lower end of the store.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A short, wiry, nervous man was writing at a desk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is Mr. Smith in?&rdquo; asked Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My name; what can I do for you?&rdquo; said the short man, crisply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I saw an advertisement in the Tribune for a boy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you have applied for the situation?&rdquo; said Mr. Smith.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How old are you?&rdquo; with a rapid glance at our hero.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sixteen&mdash;nearly seventeen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose that means that you will be seventeen in eleven months and a
+      half.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir,&rdquo; said Paul, &ldquo;I shall be seventeen in three months.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right. Most boys call themselves a year older. What's your name?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Paul Prescott.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;P. P. Any relation to Fanny Fern?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir,&rdquo; said Paul, rather astonished.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Didn't know but you might be. P. P. and F. F. Where do you live?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul mentioned the street and number.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's well, you are near by,&rdquo; said Mr. Smith. &ldquo;Now, are you afraid of
+      work?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No sir,&rdquo; said Paul, smiling, &ldquo;not much.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, that's important; how much wages do you expect?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose,&rdquo; said Paul, hesitating, &ldquo;I couldn't expect very much at
+      first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course not; green, you know. What do you say to a dollar a week?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A dollar a week!&rdquo; exclaimed Paul, in dismay, &ldquo;I hoped to get enough to
+      pay for my board.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense. There are plenty of boys glad enough to come for a dollar a
+      week. At first, you know. But I'll stretch a point with you, and offer you
+      a dollar and a quarter. What do you say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How soon could I expect to have my wages advanced?&rdquo; inquired our hero,
+      with considerable anxiety.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Smith, &ldquo;at the end of a month or two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll go home and speak to my uncle about it,&rdquo; said Paul, feeling
+      undecided.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can't keep the place open for you. Ah, there's another boy at the door.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll accept,&rdquo; said Paul, jumping to a decision. He had applied in so many
+      different quarters without success, that he could not make up his mind to
+      throw away this chance, poor as it seemed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When shall I come?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At what time, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At seven o'clock.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This seemed rather early. However, Paul was prepared to expect some
+      discomforts, and signified that he would come.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he turned to go away, another boy passed him, probably bent on the same
+      errand with himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul hardly knew whether to feel glad or sorry. He had expected at least
+      three dollars a week, and the descent to a dollar and a quarter was rather
+      disheartening. Still, he was encouraged by the promise of a rise at the
+      end of a month or two,&mdash;so on the whole he went home cheerful.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Paul, what luck to-day?&rdquo; asked Mr. Cameron, who had just got home
+      as Paul entered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've got a place, Uncle Hugh.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have,&mdash;where?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With Smith &amp; Thompson, No.&mdash;Broadway.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What sort of a store? I don't remember the name.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a retail dry-goods store.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you like the looks of your future employer?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; said Paul, hesitating, &ldquo;He looked as if he might be a
+      pretty sharp man in business, but I have seen others that I would rather
+      work for. However, beggars mustn't be choosers. But there was one thing I
+      was disappointed about.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What was that, Paul?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About the wages.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How much will they give you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only a dollar and a quarter a week, at first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is small, to be sure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The most I think of, Uncle Hugh, is, that I shall still be an expense to
+      you. I hoped to get enough to be able to pay my board from the first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear boy,&rdquo; said the sexton, kindly, &ldquo;don't trouble yourself on that
+      score. It costs little more for three than for two, and the little I
+      expend on your account is richly made up by the satisfaction we feel in
+      your society, and your good conduct.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You say that to encourage me, Uncle Hugh,&rdquo; said Paul. &ldquo;You have done all
+      for me. I have done nothing for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Paul, I spoke the truth. Hester and I have both been happier since
+      you came to us. We hope you will long remain with us. You are already as
+      dear to us as the son that we lost.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, Uncle Hugh,&rdquo; said Paul, in a voice tremulous with feeling. &ldquo;I
+      will do all I can to deserve your kindness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXI.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      SMITH AND THOMPSON'S YOUNG MAN.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      At seven o'clock the next morning Paul stood before Smith &amp; Thompson's
+      store.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he came up on one side, another boy came down on the other, and crossed
+      the street.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you the new boy?&rdquo; he asked, surveying Paul attentively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose so,&rdquo; said Paul. &ldquo;I've engaged to work for Smith &amp;
+      Thompson.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right. I'm glad to see you,&rdquo; said the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This looked kind, and Paul thanked him for his welcome.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O.&rdquo; said the other, bursting into a laugh, &ldquo;you needn't trouble yourself
+      about thanking me. I'm glad you've come, because now I shan't have to open
+      the store and sweep out. Just lend a hand there; I'll help you about
+      taking down the shutters this morning, and to-morrow you'll have to get
+      along alone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The two boys opened the store.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's your name?&rdquo; asked Paul's new acquaintance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Paul Prescott. What is yours?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nicholas Benton. You may call me MR. Benton.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Benton?&rdquo; repeated Paul in some astonishment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; I'm a young man now. I've been Smith &amp; Thompson's boy till now.
+      Now I'm promoted.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul looked at MR. Benton with some amusement. That young man was somewhat
+      shorter than himself, and sole proprietor of a stock of pale yellow hair
+      which required an abundant stock of bear's grease to keep it in order. His
+      face was freckled and expressionless. His eyebrows and eyelashes were of
+      the same faded color. He was dressed, however, with some pretensions to
+      smartness. He wore a blue necktie, of large dimensions, fastened by an
+      enormous breast-pin, which, in its already tarnished splendor, suggested
+      strong doubts as to the apparent gold being genuine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's the broom, Paul,&rdquo; said Mr. Benton, assuming a graceful position
+      on the counter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'll have to sweep out; only look sharp about raising a dust, or
+      Smith'll be into your wool.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What sort of a man is Mr. Smith?&rdquo; asked Paul, with some curiosity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O, he's an out and outer. Sharp as a steel trap. He'll make you toe the
+      mark.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you like him?&rdquo; asked Paul, not quite sure whether he understood his
+      employer's character from the description.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't like him well enough to advise any of my folks to trade with
+      him,&rdquo; said Mr. Benton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He'd cheat 'em out of their eye teeth if they happened to have any,&rdquo; said
+      the young man coolly, beginning to pick his teeth with a knife.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul began to doubt whether he should like Mr. Smith.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say,&rdquo; said Mr. Benton after a pause, &ldquo;have you begun to shave yet?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul looked up to see if his companion were in earnest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;I haven't got along as far as that. Have you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I,&rdquo; repeated the young man, a little contemptuously, &ldquo;of course I have.
+      I've shaved for a year and a half.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you find it hard shaving?&rdquo; asked Paul, a little slyly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, my beard is rather stiff,&rdquo; said the late BOY, with an important
+      air, &ldquo;but I've got used to it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ain't you rather young to shave, Nicholas?&rdquo; asked Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Benton, if you please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean, Mr. Benton.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps I was when I begun. But now I am nineteen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nineteen?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, that is to say, I'm within a few months of being nineteen. What do
+      you think of my moustache?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hadn't noticed it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The store's rather dark,&rdquo; muttered Mr. Benton, who seemed a little
+      annoyed by this answer. &ldquo;If you'll come a little nearer you can see it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Drawing near, Paul, after some trouble, descried a few scattering hairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said he, wanting to laugh, &ldquo;I see it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Coming on finely, isn't it?&rdquo; asked Mr. Nicholas Benton, complacently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Paul, rather doubtfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't mind letting you into a secret,&rdquo; said Benton, affably, &ldquo;if you
+      won't mention it. I've been using some of the six weeks' stuff.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The what?&rdquo; asked Paul, opening his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Haven't you heard of it?&rdquo; inquired Benton, a little contemptuously.
+      &ldquo;Where have you been living all your life? Haven't you seen it advertised,&mdash;warranted
+      to produce a full set of whiskers or moustaches upon the smoothest face,
+      etc. I got some a week ago, only a dollar. Five weeks from now you'll see
+      something that'll astonish you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul was not a little amused by his new companion, and would have laughed,
+      but that he feared to offend him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'd better get some,&rdquo; said Mr. Benton. &ldquo;I'll let you just try mine
+      once, if you want to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said Paul; &ldquo;I don't think I want to have a moustache just
+      yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, perhaps you're right. Being a boy, perhaps it wouldn't be
+      advisable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When does Mr. Smith come in?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not till nine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the other clerks?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About eight o'clock. I shan't come till eight, to-morrow morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's one thing I should like to ask you,&rdquo; said Paul. &ldquo;Of course you
+      won't answer unless you like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Out with it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How much does Mr. Smith pay you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ahem!&rdquo; said Benton, &ldquo;what does he pay you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A dollar and a quarter a week.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He paid me a dollar and a half to begin with.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did he? He wanted me to come first at a dollar.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just like him. Didn't I tell you he was an out and outer? He'll be sure
+      to take you in if you will let him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; said Paul, anxiously, &ldquo;he said he'd raise it in a month or two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He won't offer to; you'll have to tease him. And then how much'll he
+      raise it? Not more than a quarter. How much do you think I get now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How long have you been here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A year and a half.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Five dollars a week,&rdquo; guessed Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Five! he only gives me two and a half. That is, he hasn't been paying me
+      but that. Now, of course, he'll raise, as I've been promoted.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How much do you expect to get now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Maybe four dollars, and I'm worth ten any day. He's a mean old skinflint,
+      Smith is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This glimpse at his own prospects did not tend to make Paul feel very
+      comfortable. He could not repress a sigh of disappointment when he thought
+      of this mortifying termination of all his brilliant prospects. He had long
+      nourished the hope of being able to repay the good sexton for his outlay
+      in his behalf, besides discharging the debt which his father had left
+      behind him. Now there seemed to be little prospect of either. He had half
+      a mind to resign his place immediately upon the entrance of Mr. Smith, but
+      two considerations dissuaded him; one, that the sum which he was to
+      receive, though small, would at least buy his clothes, and besides, he was
+      not at all certain of obtaining another situation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With a sigh, therefore, he went about his duties.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had scarcely got the store ready when some of the clerks entered, and
+      the business of the day commenced. At nine Mr. Smith appeared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So you're here, Peter,&rdquo; remarked he, as he caught sight of our hero.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Paul,&rdquo; corrected the owner of that name.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, well, Peter or Paul, don't make much difference. Both were
+      apostles, if I remember right. All ready for work, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; said Paul, neither very briskly nor cheerfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Mr. Smith, after a pause, &ldquo;I guess I'll put you into the
+      calico department. Williams, you may take him under your wing. And now
+      Peter,&mdash;all the same, Paul,&mdash;I've got a word or two to say to
+      you, as I always do to every boy who comes into my store. Don't forget
+      what you're here for? It's to sell goods. Take care to sell something to
+      every man, woman, and child, that comes in your way. That's the way to do
+      business. Follow it up, and you'll be a rich man some day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But suppose they don't want anything?&rdquo; said Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Make 'em want something,&rdquo; returned Smith, &ldquo;Don't let 'em off without
+      buying. That's my motto. However, you'll learn.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Smith bustled off, and began in his nervous way to exercise a general
+      supervision over all that was going on in the store. He seemed to be all
+      eyes. While apparently entirely occupied in waiting upon a customer, he
+      took notice of all the customers in the store, and could tell what they
+      bought, and how much they paid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul listened attentively to the clerk under whom he was placed for
+      instruction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the price of this calico?&rdquo; inquired a common-looking woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A shilling a yard, ma'am,&rdquo; (this was not in war times.)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It looks rather coarse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Coarse, ma'am! What can you be thinking of? It is a superfine piece of
+      goods. We sell more of it than of any other figure. The mayor's wife was
+      in here yesterday, and bought two dress patterns off of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did she?&rdquo; asked the woman, who appeared favorably impressed by this
+      circumstance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, and she promised to send her friends here after some of it. You'd
+      better take it while you can get it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will it wash?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To be sure it will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I guess you may cut me off ten yards.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was quickly done, and the woman departed with her purchase.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Five minutes later, another woman entered with a bundle of the same
+      figured calico.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Seeing her coming, Williams hastily slipped the remnant of the piece out
+      of sight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I got this calico here,&rdquo; said the newcomer, &ldquo;one day last week. You
+      warranted it to wash, but I find it won't. Here's a piece I've tried.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She showed a pattern, which had a faded look.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You've come to the wrong store,&rdquo; said Williams, coolly. &ldquo;You must have
+      got the calico somewhere else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I'm sure I got it here. I remember particularly buying it of you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You've got a better memory than I have, then. We haven't got a piece of
+      calico like that in the store.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul listened to this assertion with unutterable surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am quite certain I bought it here,&rdquo; said the woman, perplexed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Must have been the next store,&mdash;Blake &amp; Hastings. Better go over
+      there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The woman went out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's the way to do business,&rdquo; said Williams, winking at Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul said nothing, but he felt more than ever doubtful about retaining his
+      place.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXII.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      MR. BENTON'S ADVENTURE.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      One evening, about a fortnight after his entrance into Smith &amp;
+      Thompson's employment, Paul was putting up the shutters, the business of
+      the day being over. It devolved upon him to open and close the store, and
+      usually he was the last one to go home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This evening, however, Mr. Nicholas Benton graciously remained behind and
+      assisted Paul in closing the store. This was unusual, and surprised Paul a
+      little. It was soon explained, however.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-night, Nicholas,&mdash;I mean, Mr. Benton,&rdquo; said Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not quite yet. I want you to walk a little way with me this evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, no backing out. I want to confide to you a very important secret.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked so mysterious that Paul's curiosity was aroused, and reflecting
+      that it was yet early, he took his companion's proffered arm, and
+      sauntered along by his side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the secret?&rdquo; he asked at length, perceiving that Nicholas was
+      silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait till we get to a more retired place.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned out of Broadway into a side street, where the passers were less
+      numerous.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think you could guess,&rdquo; said the young man, turning towards our
+      hero.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think I could.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And yet,&rdquo; continued Benton, meditatively, &ldquo;it is possible that you may
+      have noticed something in my appearance just a little unusual, within the
+      last week. Haven't you, now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul could not say that he had.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Benton looked a little disappointed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nobody can tell what has been the state of my feelings,&rdquo; he resumed after
+      a pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You ain't sick?&rdquo; questioned Paul, hastily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing of the sort, only my appetite has been a good deal affected. I
+      don't think I have eaten as much in a week as you would in a day,&rdquo; he
+      added, complacently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I felt that way I should think I was going to be sick,&rdquo; said Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll let you into the secret,&rdquo; said Mr. Benton, lowering his voice, and
+      looking carefully about him, to make sure that no one was within hearing
+      distance&mdash;&ldquo;I'M IN LOVE.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This seemed so utterly ludicrous to Paul, that he came very near losing
+      Mr. Benton's friendship forever by bursting into a hearty laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I didn't think of that,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's taken away my appetite, and I haven't been able to sleep nights,&rdquo;
+       continued Mr. Benton, in a cheerful tone. &ldquo;I feel just as Howard Courtenay
+      did in the great story that's coming out in the Weekly Budget. You've read
+      it, haven't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think I have,&rdquo; said Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you ought to. It's tiptop. It's rather curious too that the lady
+      looks just as Miranda does, in the same story.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How is that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait a minute, and I'll read the description.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Benton pulled a paper from his pocket,&mdash;the last copy of the
+      Weekly Budget,&mdash;and by the light of a street lamp read the following
+      extract to his amused auditor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miranda was just eighteen. Her form was queenly and majestic. Tall and
+      stately, she moved among her handmaidens with a dignity which revealed her
+      superior rank. Her eyes were dark as night. Her luxuriant tresses,&mdash;there,
+      the rest is torn off,&rdquo; said Mr. Benton, in a tone of vexation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is tall, then?&rdquo; said Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, just like Miranda.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then,&rdquo; said our hero, in some hesitation, &ldquo;I should think she would not
+      be very well suited to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo; asked Mr. Benton, quickly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because,&rdquo; said Paul, &ldquo;you're rather short, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm about the medium height,&rdquo; said Mr. Benton, raising himself upon his
+      toes as he spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not quite,&rdquo; said Paul, trying not to laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm as tall as Mr. Smith,&rdquo; resumed Mr. Benton, in a tone which warned
+      Paul that this was a forbidden subject. &ldquo;But you don't ask me who she is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I didn't know as you would be willing to tell.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shan't tell any one but you. It's Miss Hawkins,&mdash;firm of Hawkins
+      &amp; Brewer. That is, her father belongs to the firm, not she. And Paul,&rdquo;
+       here he clutched our hero's arm convulsively, &ldquo;I've made a declaration of
+      my love, and&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She has answered my letter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has she?&rdquo; asked Paul with some curiosity, &ldquo;What did she say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She has written me to be under her window this evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why under her window? why didn't she write you to call?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Probably she will, but it's more romantic to say, 'be under my window.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, perhaps it is; only you know I don't know much about such things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course not, Paul,&rdquo; said Mr. Benton; &ldquo;you're only a boy, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you going to be under her window, Nich,&mdash;I mean Mr. Benton?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course. Do you think I would miss the appointment? No earthly power
+      could prevent my doing it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I had better leave you,&rdquo; said Paul, making a movement to go.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I want you to accompany me as far as the door. I feel&mdash;a little
+      agitated. I suppose everybody does when they are in love,&rdquo; added Mr.
+      Benton, complacently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Paul, &ldquo;I will see you to the door, but I can't stay, for they
+      will wonder at home what has become of me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are we anywhere near the house?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, it's only in the next street,&rdquo; said Mr. Benton, &ldquo;O, Paul, how my
+      heart beats! You can't imagine how I feel!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Benton gasped for breath, and looked as if he had swallowed a fish
+      bone, which he had some difficulty in getting down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'll know how to understand my feelings sometime, Paul,&rdquo; said Mr.
+      Benton; &ldquo;when your time comes, I will remember your service of to-night,
+      and I will stand by you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul inwardly hoped that he should never fall in love, if it was likely to
+      affect him in the same way as his companion, but he thought it best not to
+      say so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By this time they had come in sight of a three-story brick house, with
+      Benjamin Hawkins on the door-plate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's the house,&rdquo; said Mr. Benton, in an agitated whisper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, and that window on the left-hand side is the window of her chamber.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She told me in the letter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And where are you to stand?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just underneath, as the clock strikes nine. It must be about the time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At that moment the city clock struck nine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Benton left Paul, and crossing the street, took up his position
+      beneath the window of his charmer, beginning to sing, in a thin, piping
+      voice, as preconcerted between them&mdash;
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     &ldquo;Ever of thee,
+     I'm fo-o-ondly dreaming.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      The song was destined never to be finished.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From his post in a doorway opposite, Paul saw the window softly open. He
+      could distinguish a tall female figure, doubtless Miss Hawkins herself.
+      She held in her hand a pitcher of water, which she emptied with
+      well-directed aim full upon the small person of her luckless admirer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The falling column struck upon his beaver, thence spreading on all sides.
+      His carefully starched collar became instantly as limp as a rag, while his
+      coat suffered severely from the shower.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His tuneful accents died away in dismay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ow!&rdquo; he exclaimed, jumping at least a yard, and involuntarily shaking
+      himself like a dog, &ldquo;who did that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no answer save a low, musical laugh from the window above, which
+      was involuntarily echoed by Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean by laughing at me?&rdquo; demanded Mr. Benton, smarting with
+      mortification, as he strode across the street, trying to dry his hat with
+      the help of his handkerchief, &ldquo;Is this what you call friendship?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Excuse me,&rdquo; gasped Paul, &ldquo;but I really couldn't help it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't see anything to laugh at,&rdquo; continued Mr. Benton, in a resentful
+      tone; &ldquo;because I have been subjected to unmanly persecution, you must
+      laugh at me, instead of extending to me the sympathy of a friend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose you won't think of her any more,&rdquo; said Paul, recovering
+      himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Think of her!&rdquo; exclaimed Mr. Benton, &ldquo;would you have me tear her from my
+      heart, because her mercenary parent chooses to frown upon our love, and
+      follow me with base persecution.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Her parent!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, it was he who threw the water upon me. But it shall not avail,&rdquo; the
+      young man continued, folding his arms, and speaking in a tone of
+      resolution, &ldquo;bolts and bars shall not keep two loving hearts asunder.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it wasn't her father,&rdquo; urged Paul, perceiving that Mr. Benton was
+      under a mistake.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who was it, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was the young lady herself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who threw the water upon me? It is a base slander.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I saw her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Saw who?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A tall young lady with black hair.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And was it she who threw the water?&rdquo; asked Mr. Benton, aghast at this
+      unexpected revelation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then she did it at the command of her proud parent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul did not dispute this, since it seemed to comfort Mr. Benton. It is
+      doubtful, however, whether the young man believed it himself, since he
+      straightway fell into a fit of gloomy abstraction, and made no response
+      when Paul bade him &ldquo;good-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXIII.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      PAUL LOSES HIS SITUATION AND GAINS A FRIEND.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Paul had a presentiment that he should not long remain in the employ of
+      Smith &amp; Thompson; it was not many weeks before this presentiment was
+      verified.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After having received such instruction as was necessary, the calico
+      department was left in Paul's charge. One day a customer in turning over
+      the patterns shown her took up a piece which Paul knew from complaints
+      made by purchasers would not wash.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is pretty,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;it is just what I have been looking for. You
+      may cut me off twelve yards.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, ma'am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait a minute, though,&rdquo; interposed the lady, &ldquo;will it wash?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think it will,&rdquo; said Paul, frankly, &ldquo;there have been some
+      complaints made about that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I shall not want it. Let me see what else you have got.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The customer finally departed, having found nothing to suit her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No sooner had she left the store than Mr. Smith called Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, did you sell that lady anything?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And why not?&rdquo; demanded Smith, harshly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because she did not like any of the pieces.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wouldn't she have ordered a dress pattern if you had not told her the
+      calico would not wash?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir, I suppose so,&rdquo; said Paul, preparing for a storm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then why did you tell her?&rdquo; demanded his employer, angrily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because she asked me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Couldn't you have told her that it would wash?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That would not have been the truth,&rdquo; said Paul, sturdily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're a mighty conscientious young man,&rdquo; sneered Smith, &ldquo;You're
+      altogether too pious to succeed in business. I discharge you from my
+      employment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, sir,&rdquo; said Paul, his heart sinking, but keeping up a brave
+      exterior, &ldquo;then I have only to bid you good-morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-morning, sir,&rdquo; said his employer with mock deference, &ldquo;I advise you
+      to study for the ministry, and no longer waste your talents in selling
+      calico.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul made no reply, but putting on his cap walked out of the store. It was
+      the middle of the week, and Mr. Smith was, of course, owing him a small
+      sum for his services; but Paul was too proud to ask for his money, which
+      that gentleman did not see fit to volunteer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure I have done right,&rdquo; thought Paul. &ldquo;I had no right to
+      misrepresent the goods to that lady. I wonder what Uncle Hugh will say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You did perfectly right,&rdquo; said the sexton, after Paul had related the
+      circumstances of his dismissal. &ldquo;I wouldn't have had you act differently
+      for twenty situations. I have no doubt you will get a better position
+      elsewhere.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope so,&rdquo; said Paul. &ldquo;Now that I have lost the situation, Uncle Hugh, I
+      don't mind saying that I never liked it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Now commenced a search for another place. Day after day Paul went out, and
+      day after day he returned with the same want of success.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind, Paul,&rdquo; said the sexton encouragingly. &ldquo;When you do succeed,
+      perhaps you'll get something worth waiting for.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      One morning Paul went out feeling that something was going to happen,&mdash;he
+      didn't exactly know what,&mdash;but he felt somehow that there was to be a
+      change in his luck. He went out, therefore, with more hopefulness than
+      usual; yet, when four o'clock came, and nothing had occurred except
+      failure and disappointment, which unhappily were not at all out of the
+      ordinary course, Paul began to think that he was very foolish to have
+      expected anything.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was walking listlessly along a narrow street, when, on a sudden, he
+      heard an exclamation of terror, of which, on turning round, he easily
+      discovered the cause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Two spirited horses, attached to an elegant carriage, had been terrified
+      in some way, and were now running at the top of their speed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no coachman on the box; he had dismounted in order to ring at
+      some door, when the horses started. He was now doing his best to overtake
+      the horses, but in a race between man and horse, it is easy to predict
+      which will have the advantage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There seemed to be but one person in the carriage. It was a lady,&mdash;whose
+      face, pale with terror, could be seen from the carriage window. Her loud
+      cries of alarm no doubt terrified the horses still more, and, by
+      accelerating their speed, tended to make matters worse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul was roused from a train of despondent reflections by seeing the
+      horses coming up the street. He instantly comprehended the whole danger of
+      the lady's situation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Most boys would have thought of nothing but getting out of the way, and
+      leaving the carriage and its inmate to their fate. What, indeed, could a
+      boy do against a pair of powerful horses, almost beside themselves with
+      fright?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But our hero, as we have already had occasion to see, was brave and
+      self-possessed, and felt an instant desire to rescue the lady, whose
+      glance of helpless terror, as she leaned her head from the window, he
+      could see. Naturally quickwitted, it flashed upon him that the only way to
+      relieve a horse from one terror, was to bring another to bear upon him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With scarcely a moment's premeditation, he rushed out into the middle of
+      the street, full in the path of the furious horses, and with his cheeks
+      pale, for he knew his danger, but with determined air, he waved his arms
+      aloft, and cried &ldquo;Whoa!&rdquo; at the top of his voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The horses saw the sudden movement. They saw the boy standing directly in
+      front of them. They heard the word of command to which they had been used,
+      and by a sudden impulse, relieved from the blind terror which had urged
+      them on, they stopped suddenly, and stood still in the middle of the
+      street, still showing in their quivering limbs the agitation through which
+      they had passed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Just then the coachman, panting with his hurried running, came up and
+      seized them by the head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Youngster,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;you're a brave fellow. You've done us a good
+      service to-day. You're a pretty cool hand, you are. I don't know what
+      these foolish horses would have done with the carriage if it had not been
+      for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me get out,&rdquo; exclaimed the lady, not yet recovered from her fright.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will open the door,&rdquo; said Paul, observing that the coachman was fully
+      occupied in soothing the horses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He sprang forward, and opening the door of the carriage assisted the lady
+      to descend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She breathed quickly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have been very much frightened,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;and I believe I have been
+      in very great danger. Are you the brave boy who stopped the horses?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul modestly answered in the affirmative.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And how did you do it? I was so terrified that I was hardly conscious of
+      what was passing, till the horses stopped.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul modestly related his agency in the matter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The lady gazed at his flushed face admiringly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How could you have so much courage?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;You might have been
+      trampled to death under the hoofs of the horses.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I didn't think of that. I only thought of stopping the horses.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a brave boy. I shudder when I think of your danger and mine. I
+      shall not dare to get into the carriage again this afternoon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Allow me to accompany you home?&rdquo; said Paul, politely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you; I will trouble you to go with me as far as Broadway, and then
+      I can get into an omnibus.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned and addressed some words to the coachman, directing him to
+      drive home as soon as the horses were quieted, adding that she would trust
+      herself to the escort of the young hero, who had rescued her from the late
+      peril.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're a lucky boy,&rdquo; thought John, the coachman. &ldquo;My mistress is one that
+      never does anything by halves. It won't be for nothing that you have
+      rescued her this afternoon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As they walked along, the lady, by delicate questioning, succeeded in
+      drawing from our hero his hopes and wishes for the future. Paul, who was
+      of a frank and open nature, found it very natural to tell her all he felt
+      and wished.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He seems a remarkably fine boy,&rdquo; thought the lady to herself. &ldquo;I should
+      like to do something for him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They emerged into Broadway.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will detain you a little longer,&rdquo; said the lady; &ldquo;and perhaps trouble
+      you with a parcel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall be very glad to take it,&rdquo; said Paul politely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Appleton's bookstore was close at hand. Into this the lady went, followed
+      by her young companion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A clerk advanced, and inquired her wishes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you show me some writing-desks?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am going to purchase a writing-desk for a young friend of mine,&rdquo; she
+      explained to Paul; &ldquo;as he is a boy, like yourself, perhaps you can guide
+      me in the selection.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; said Paul, unsuspiciously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Several desks were shown. Paul expressed himself admiringly of one made of
+      rosewood inlaid with pearl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I will take it,&rdquo; said the lady.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The price was paid, and the desk was wrapped up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said Mrs. Danforth, for this proved to be her name, &ldquo;I will trouble
+      you, Paul, to take the desk for me, and accompany me in the omnibus, that
+      is, if you have no other occupation for your time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am quite at leisure,&rdquo; said Paul. &ldquo;I shall be most happy to do so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul left the lady at the door of her residence in Fifth Avenue, and
+      promised to call on his new friend the next day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went home feeling that, though he had met with no success in obtaining
+      a place, he had been very fortunate in rendering so important a service to
+      a lady whose friendship might be of essential service to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXIV.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      PAUL CALLS ON MRS. DANFORTH.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mrs. Edward Danforth,&rdquo; repeated the sexton, on hearing the story of
+      Paul's exploit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, she attends our church.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know Mr. Danforth?&rdquo; asked Paul, with interest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only by sight. I know him by reputation, however.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose he is very rich.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I should judge so. At any rate, he is doing an extensive business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is his business?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is a merchant.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A merchant,&rdquo; thought Paul; &ldquo;that is just what I should like to be, but I
+      don't see much prospect of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you like Mrs. Danforth?&rdquo; inquired the sexton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very much,&rdquo; said Paul, warmly. &ldquo;She was very kind, and made me feel quite
+      at home in her company.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope she may be disposed to assist you. She can easily do so, in her
+      position.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The next day Paul did not as usual go out in search of a situation. His
+      mind was occupied with thoughts of his coming interview with Mrs.
+      Danforth, and he thought he would defer his business plans till the
+      succeeding day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At an early hour in the evening, he paused before an imposing residence on
+      Fifth Avenue, which he had seen but not entered the day previous.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He mounted the steps and pulled the bell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A smart-looking man-servant answered his ring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is Mrs. Danforth at home?&rdquo; asked Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I believe so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have called to see her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does she expect you?&rdquo; asked the servant, looking surprised.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; I come at her appointment,&rdquo; said Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I suppose it's all right,&rdquo; said the man. &ldquo;Will you come in?&rdquo; he
+      asked, a little doubtfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul followed him into the house, and was shown into the drawing-room, the
+      magnificence of which somewhat dazzled his eyes; accustomed only to the
+      plain sitting-room of Mr. Cameron.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The servant reappeared after a brief absence, and with rather more
+      politeness than he had before shown, invited Paul to follow him to a
+      private sitting-room upstairs, where he would see Mrs. Danforth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Looking at Paul's plain, though neat clothes, the servant was a little
+      puzzled to understand what had obtained for Paul the honor of being on
+      visiting terms with Mrs. Danforth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good evening, Paul,&rdquo; said Mrs. Danforth, rising from her seat and
+      welcoming our hero with extended hand. &ldquo;So you did not forget your
+      appointment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There was no fear of that,&rdquo; said Paul, with his usual frankness. &ldquo;I have
+      been looking forward to coming all day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you, indeed?&rdquo; said the lady with a pleasant smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I must endeavor to make your visit agreeable to you. Do you
+      recognize this desk?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Upon a table close by, was the desk which had been purchased the day
+      previous, at Appleton's.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Paul, &ldquo;it is the one you bought yesterday. I think it is very
+      handsome.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad you think so. I think I told you that I intended it for a
+      present. I have had the new owner's name engraved upon it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul read the name upon the plate provided for the purpose. His face
+      flushed with surprise and pleasure. That name was his own.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you really mean it for me,&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you will accept it,&rdquo; said Mrs. Danforth, smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall value it very much,&rdquo; said Paul, gratefully. &ldquo;And I feel very much
+      indebted to your kindness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We won't talk of indebtedness, for you remember mine is much the greater.
+      If you will open the desk you will find that it is furnished with what
+      will, I hope, prove of use to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The desk being opened, proved to contain a liberal supply of stationery,
+      sealing wax, postage stamps, and pens.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul was delighted with his new present, and Mrs. Danforth seemed to enjoy
+      the evident gratification with which it inspired him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;tell me a little about yourself. Have you always lived
+      in New York?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only about three years,&rdquo; said Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And where did you live before?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At Wrenville, in Connecticut.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have heard of the place. A small country town, is it not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul answered in the affirmative.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How did you happen to leave Wrenville, and come to New York?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul blushed, and hesitated a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ran away,&rdquo; he said at length, determined to keep nothing back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ran away! Not from home, I hope.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had no home,&rdquo; said Paul, soberly. &ldquo;I should never have left there, if
+      my father had not died. Then I was thrown upon the world. I was sent to
+      the Poorhouse. I did not want to go, for I thought I could support
+      myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is a very honorable feeling. I suppose you did not fare very well at
+      the Poorhouse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In reply, Paul detailed some of the grievances to which he had been
+      subjected. Mrs. Danforth listened with sympathizing attention.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were entirely justified in running away,&rdquo; she said, as he concluded.
+      &ldquo;I can hardly imagine so great a lack of humanity as these people showed.
+      You are now, I hope, pleasantly situated?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Paul, &ldquo;Mr. and Mrs. Cameron treat me with as great kindness as
+      if I were their own child.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cameron! Is not that the name of the sexton of our church?&rdquo; said Mrs.
+      Danforth, meditatively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is with him that I have a pleasant home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed, I am glad to hear it. You have been attending school, I suppose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, it is not more than two months since I left off school.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now I suppose you are thinking of entering upon some business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; I have been trying to obtain a place in some merchant's
+      counting-room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You think, then, that you would like the career of a merchant?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is nothing that would suit me better.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have not succeeded in obtaining a place yet, I suppose?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. They are very difficult to get, and I have no influential friends to
+      assist me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have heard Mr. Danforth say that he experienced equal difficulty when
+      he came to New York, a poor boy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul looked surprised.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see that you are surprised,&rdquo; said Mrs. Danforth, smiling. &ldquo;You think,
+      perhaps, judging from what you see, that my husband was always rich. But
+      he was the son of a poor farmer, and was obliged to make his own way in
+      the world. By the blessing of God, he has been prospered in business and
+      become rich. But he often speaks of his early discouragements and small
+      beginnings. I am sorry he is not here this evening. By the way, he left
+      word for you to call at his counting-room to-morrow, at eleven o'clock. I
+      will give you his address.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She handed Paul a card containing the specified number, and soon after he
+      withdrew, bearing with him his handsome gift, and a cordial invitation to
+      repeat his call.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked back at the elegant mansion which he had just left, and could
+      not help feeling surprised that the owner of such a palace, should have
+      started in life with no greater advantages than himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXV.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Paul slept late the next morning. He did not hear the breakfast-bell, and
+      when the sexton came up to awaken him he rubbed his eyes with such an
+      expression of bewilderment that Mr. Cameron could not forbear laughing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must have had queer dreams, Paul,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Uncle Hugh,&rdquo; said Paul, laughing, &ldquo;I believe I have.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When you have collected your wits, which at present seem absent on a
+      wool-gathering expedition, perhaps you will tell what you have been
+      dreaming about.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I will,&rdquo; said Paul, &ldquo;and perhaps you can interpret it for me. I
+      dreamed that I was back again at Mr. Mudge's, and that he sent me out into
+      the field to dig potatoes. I worked away at the first hill, but found no
+      potatoes. In place of them were several gold pieces. I picked them up in
+      great surprise, and instead of putting them into the basket, concluded to
+      put them in my pocket. But as all the hills turned out in the same way I
+      got my pockets full, and had to put the rest in the basket. I was just
+      wondering what they would do for potatoes, when all at once a great dog
+      came up and seized me by the arm&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you opened your eyes and saw me,&rdquo; said the sexton, finishing out his
+      narrative.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Upon my word, that's very complimentary to me. However, some of our
+      potatoes have escaped transformation into gold pieces, but I am afraid you
+      will find them rather cold if you don't get down to breakfast pretty
+      quick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right, Uncle Hugh. I'll be down in a jiffy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      About half-past ten Paul started on his way to Mr. Danforth's
+      counting-room. It was located on Wall Street, as he learned from the card
+      which had been given him by Mrs. Danforth. He felt a little awkward in
+      making this call. It seemed as if he were going to receive thanks for the
+      service which he had rendered, and he felt that he had already been
+      abundantly repaid. However, he was bound in courtesy to call, since he did
+      so at the request of Mrs. Danforth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a large stone building, divided up into offices, to which Paul had
+      been directed. Mr. Danforth's office he found after a little search, upon
+      the second floor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He opened the door with a little embarrassment, and looked about him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In one corner was a small room, used as a more private office, the door of
+      which was closed. In the larger room the only one whom he saw, was a boy,
+      apparently about his own age, who was standing at a desk and writing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This boy looked around as Paul entered, and he at once recognized in him
+      an old acquaintance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;George Dawkins!&rdquo; he exclaimed in surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The latter answered in a careless indifferent tone, not exhibiting any
+      very decided pleasure at meeting his old schoolmate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it's you, Prescott, is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Paul, &ldquo;I haven't met you since you left our school.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I believe we have not met,&rdquo; said Dawkins, in the same tone as before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How long have you been in this office?&rdquo; asked our hero.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I really can't say,&rdquo; said Dawkins, not looking up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can't say!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I'm rather forgetful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul could not help feeling chilled at the indifferent manner in which his
+      advances were met. He had been really glad to see Dawkins, and had
+      addressed him with cordiality. He could not conceal from himself that
+      Dawkins did not seem inclined to respond to it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Still,&rdquo; thought Paul, extenuatingly, &ldquo;perhaps that is his way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As the conversation began to flag, Paul was reminded of his errand by
+      Dawkins saying, in a tone which was half a sneer, &ldquo;Have you any business
+      with Mr. Danforth this morning, or did you merely come in out of
+      curiosity?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have called to see Mr. Danforth,&rdquo; said Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is usually pretty busy in the morning,&rdquo; said Dawkins.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He directed me to call in the morning,&rdquo; said Paul, sturdily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, indeed!&rdquo; said Dawkins, a little surprised. &ldquo;I wonder,&rdquo; he thought,
+      &ldquo;what business this fellow can have with Mr. Danforth. Can he be fishing
+      for a place?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Danforth is engaged with a visitor just now,&rdquo; he at length
+      condescended to say; &ldquo;if your time is not too valuable to wait, you can
+      see him by-and-by.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said Paul, rather nettled, &ldquo;you are very polite.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      To this Dawkins made no reply, but resumed his pen, and for the next ten
+      minutes seemed entirely oblivious of Paul's presence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Our hero took up the morning paper, and began, as he had so often done
+      before, to look over the list of wants, thinking it possible he might find
+      some opening for himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      About ten minutes later the door of the inner office opened, and two
+      gentlemen came out. One was a gentleman of fifty, a business friend of Mr.
+      Danforth's, the other was Mr. Danforth himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The former remarked, on seeing Paul, &ldquo;Is this your son, Danforth?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said the merchant, nodding in a friendly manner to Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's a good joke,&rdquo; thought Dawkins, chuckling to himself; &ldquo;Mr. Danforth
+      must be immensely flattered at having a sexton's adopted son taken for
+      his.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After a final word or two on business matters, and arrangements for
+      another interview, the visitor departed, and Mr. Danforth, now at leisure,
+      turned to Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now my lad,&rdquo; he said kindly, &ldquo;if you will follow me, we shall have a
+      chance to talk a little.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul followed the merchant into his office, the door of which was closed,
+      much to the regret of Dawkins, who had a tolerably large share of
+      curiosity, and was very anxious to find out what business Paul could
+      possibly have with his employer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take that seat, if you please;&rdquo; said Mr. Danforth, motioning Paul to an
+      arm-chair, and sitting down himself, &ldquo;Mrs. Danforth told me from how great
+      a peril you rescued her. You are a brave boy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; said Paul, modestly, &ldquo;I didn't think of the danger. If I
+      had, perhaps I should have hesitated.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you had not been brave you would have thought of your own risk. My
+      wife and myself are under very great obligations to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That more than repays me for all I did,&rdquo; said Paul, in a tone of mingled
+      modesty and manliness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I like the boy,&rdquo; thought Mr. Danforth; &ldquo;he is certainly quite superior to
+      the common run.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you left school?&rdquo; he inquired, after a pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir. Last term closed my school life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you have never been in a situation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed! Before you left school?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir, since.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You did not like it, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir,&rdquo; said Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And was that the reason of your leaving?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir; my employer was not satisfied with me,&rdquo; said Paul, frankly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed! I am surprised to hear this! If you have no objection, will you
+      tell me the circumstances?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul related in a straightforward manner the difficulty he had had with
+      Smith &amp; Thompson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope you don't think I did wrong,&rdquo; he concluded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By no means,&rdquo; said Mr. Danforth, warmly. &ldquo;Your conduct was entirely
+      creditable. As for Smith, I know of him. He is a sharper. It would have
+      done you no good to remain in his employ.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul was pleased with this commendation. He had thought it possible that
+      his dismissal from his former situation might operate against him with the
+      merchant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are your present plans and wishes?&rdquo; asked Mr. Danforth, after a
+      slight pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like to enter a merchant's counting-room,&rdquo; said Paul, &ldquo;but as
+      such places are hard to get, I think I shall try to get into a store.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Danforth reflected a moment, then placing a piece of paper before our
+      hero, he said, &ldquo;Will you write your name and address on this piece of
+      paper, that I may know where to find you, in case I hear of a place?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul did as directed. He had an excellent handwriting, a point on which
+      the merchant set a high value.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The latter surveyed the address with approval, and said, &ldquo;I am glad you
+      write so excellent a hand. It will be of material assistance to you in
+      securing a place in a counting-room. Indeed, it has been already, for I
+      have just thought of a place which I can obtain for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can you, sir?&rdquo; said Paul, eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In my own counting-room,&rdquo; said Mr. Danforth, smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am very much obliged to you,&rdquo; said Paul, hardly believing his ears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was prepared to give it to you when you came in, in case I found you
+      qualified. The superiority of your handwriting decides me. When can you
+      come?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-morrow, if you like, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I like your promptness. As it is the middle of the week, however, you may
+      take a vacation till Monday. Your salary will begin to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will give you five dollars per week at first, and more as your services
+      become more valuable. Will that be satisfactory?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall feel rich, sir. Mr. Smith only gave me a dollar and a quarter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope you will find other differences between me and Mr. Smith,&rdquo; said
+      the merchant, smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These preliminaries over, Mr. Danforth opened the door, and glancing at
+      Dawkins, said, &ldquo;Dawkins, I wish you to become acquainted with your fellow
+      clerk, Paul Prescott.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dawkins looked surprised, and anything but gratified as he responded
+      stiffly, &ldquo;I have the honor of being already acquainted with Mr. Prescott.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is a little jealous of an interloper,&rdquo; thought Mr. Danforth, noticing
+      the repellent manner of young Dawkins. &ldquo;Never mind, they will get
+      acquainted after awhile.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When George Dawkins went home to dinner, his father observed the
+      dissatisfied look he wore.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is anything amiss, my son?&rdquo; he inquired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should think there was,&rdquo; grumbled his son.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We've got a new clerk, and who do you think it is?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The adopted son of old Cameron, the sexton.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed,&rdquo; said Mrs. Dawkins. &ldquo;I really wonder at Mr. Danforth's bad taste.
+      There are many boys of genteel family, who would have been glad of the
+      chance. This boy is a low fellow of course.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; said her son, though he was quite aware that this was not
+      true.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What could have brought the boy to Danforth's notice?&rdquo; asked Dawkins,
+      senior.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know, I'm sure. The boy has managed to get round him in some way.
+      He is very artful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I really think, husband, that you ought to remonstrate with Mr. Danforth
+      about taking such a low fellow into his counting-room with our George.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pooh!&rdquo; said Mr. Dawkins, who was a shade more sensible than his wife,
+      &ldquo;he'd think me a meddler.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At any rate, George,&rdquo; pursued his mother, &ldquo;there's one thing that is due
+      to your family and bringing up,&mdash;not to associate with this low
+      fellow any more than business requires.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I certainly shall not,&rdquo; said George, promptly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was the worthy son of such a mother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXVI.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      A VULGAR RELATION.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      At the end of the first week, Paul received five dollars, the sum which
+      the merchant had agreed to pay him for his services. With this he felt
+      very rich. He hurried home, and displayed to the sexton the crisp bank
+      note which had been given him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will soon be a rich man, Paul,&rdquo; said Mr. Cameron, with a benevolent
+      smile, returning the bill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I want you to keep it, Uncle Hugh.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall I put it in the Savings Bank, for you, Paul?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I didn't mean that. You have been supporting me&mdash;giving me board and
+      clothes&mdash;for three years. It is only right that you should have what
+      I earn.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The offer is an honorable one on your part, Paul,&rdquo; said the sexton; &ldquo;but
+      I don't need it. If it will please you, I will take two dollars a week for
+      your board, now, and out of the balance you may clothe yourself, and save
+      what you can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This arrangement seemed to be a fair one. Mr. Cameron deposited the five
+      dollar note in his pocket-book, and passed one of three dollars to Paul.
+      This sum our hero deposited the next Monday morning, in a savings bank. He
+      estimated that he could clothe himself comfortably for fifty dollars a
+      year. This would leave him one hundred towards the payment of the debt due
+      to Squire Conant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By-and-by my salary will be raised,&rdquo; thought Paul. &ldquo;Then I can save
+      more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked forward with eager anticipation to the time when he should be
+      able to redeem his father's name, and no one would be entitled to cast
+      reproach upon his memory.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He endeavored to perform his duties faithfully in the office, and to learn
+      as rapidly as he could the business upon which he had entered. He soon
+      found that he must depend mainly upon himself. George Dawkins seemed
+      disposed to afford him no assistance, but repelled scornfully the advances
+      which Paul made towards cordiality. He was by no means as faithful as
+      Paul, but whenever Mr. Danforth was absent from the office, spent his time
+      in lounging at the window, or reading a cheap novel, with one of which he
+      was usually provided.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Paul became satisfied that Dawkins was not inclined to accept his
+      overtures, he ceased to court his acquaintance, and confined himself to
+      his own desk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One day as he was returning from dinner, he was startled by an
+      unceremonious slap upon the shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Looking up in some surprise, he found that this greeting had come from a
+      man just behind him, whose good-humored face and small, twinkling eyes, he
+      at once recognized.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you do, Mr. Stubbs?&rdquo; inquired Paul, his face lighting up with
+      pleasure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm so's to be round. How be you?&rdquo; returned the worthy pedler, seizing
+      our hero's hand and shaking it heartily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Stubbs was attired in all the glory of a blue coat with brass buttons
+      and swallow tails.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When did you come to New York?&rdquo; asked Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just arrived; that is, I got in this mornin'. But I say, how you've
+      grown. I shouldn't hardly have known you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shouldn't you, though?&rdquo; said Paul, gratified as most boys are, on being
+      told that he had grown. &ldquo;Have you come to the city on business?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, kinder on business, and kinder not. I thought I'd like to have a
+      vacation. Besides, the old lady wanted a silk dress, and she was sot on
+      havin' it bought in York. So I come to the city.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where are you stopping, Mr. Stubbs?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Over to the Astor House. Pretty big hotel, ain't it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I see you are traveling in style.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I suppose they charge considerable, but I guess I can stand it. I
+      hain't been drivin' a tin-cart for nothin' the last ten years.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How have you been enjoying yourself since you arrived?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, pretty well. I've been round seeing the lions, and came pretty near
+      seeing the elephant at one of them Peter Funk places.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You did! Tell me about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see I was walkin' along when a fellow came out of one of them places,
+      and asked me if I wouldn't go in. I didn't want to refuse such a polite
+      invitation, and besides I had a curiosity to see what there was to be
+      seen, so I went in. They put up a silver watch, I could see that it was a
+      good one, and so I bid on it. It ran up to eight dollars and a quarter. I
+      thought it was a pity it should go off so cheap, so I bid eight and a
+      half.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Eight and a half and sold,' said the man; 'shall I put it up for you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'No, I thank you,' said I, 'I'll take it as it is.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'But I'll put it up in a nice box for you,' said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I told him I didn't care for the box. He seemed very unwilling to let it
+      go, but I took it out of his hand and he couldn't help himself. Well, when
+      they made out the bill, what do you suppose they charged?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, eighteen and a half.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Look here,' said I, 'I guess here's something of a mistake. You've got
+      ten dollars too much.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'I think you must be mistaken,' said he, smiling a foxy smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'You know I am not,' said I, rather cross.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We can't let that watch go for any thing shorter,' said he, coolly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just then a man that was present stepped up and said, 'the man is right;
+      don't attempt to impose upon him.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With that he calmed right down. It seems it was a policeman who was sent
+      to watch them, that spoke. So I paid the money, but as I went out I heard
+      the auctioneer say that the sale was closed for the day. I afterwards
+      learned that if I had allowed them to put the watch in a box, they would
+      have exchanged it for another that was only plated.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know anybody in the city?&rdquo; asked Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've got some relations, but I don't know where they live.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the name?&rdquo; asked Paul, &ldquo;we can look into the directory.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The name is Dawkins,&rdquo; answered the pedler.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dawkins!&rdquo; repeated Paul, in surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, do you happen to know anybody of the name?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but I believe it is a rich family.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, so are my relations,&rdquo; said Jehoshaphat. &ldquo;You didn't think
+      Jehoshaphat Stubbs had any rich relations, did you? These, as I've heard
+      tell, hold their heads as high as anybody.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps I may be mistaken,&rdquo; said Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the name&mdash;the Christian name, I mean&mdash;of your
+      relation?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;George.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It must be he, then. There is a boy of about my own age of that name. He
+      works in the same office.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't say so! Well, that is curious, I declare. To think that I
+      should have happened to hit upon you so by accident too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How are you related to them?&rdquo; inquired Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, you see, I'm own cousin to Mr. Dawkins. His father and my mother
+      were brother and sister.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What was his father's business?&rdquo; asked Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know what his regular business was, but he was a sexton in some
+      church.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This tallied with the account Paul had received from Mr. Cameron, and he
+      could no longer doubt that, strange as it seemed, the wealthy Mr. Dawkins
+      was own cousin to the pedler.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Didn't you say the boy was in the same office with you, Paul?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I've a great mind to go and see him, and find out where his father
+      lives. Perhaps I may get an invite to his house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How shocked Dawkins will be!&rdquo; thought Paul, not, it must be confessed,
+      without a feeling of amusement. He felt no compunction in being the
+      instrument of mortifying the false pride of his fellow clerk, and he
+      accordingly signified to Mr. Stubbs that he was on his way to the
+      counting-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you, though? Well, I guess I'll go along with you. Is it far off?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only in the next street.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The pedler, it must be acknowledged, had a thoroughly countrified
+      appearance. He was a genuine specimen of the Yankee,&mdash;a long, gaunt
+      figure, somewhat stooping, and with a long aquiline nose. His dress has
+      already been described.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As Dawkins beheld him entering with Paul, he turned up his nose in disgust
+      at what he considered Paul's friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What was his consternation when the visitor, approaching him with a
+      benignant smile, extended his brown hand, and said, &ldquo;How d'ye do, George?
+      How are ye all to hum?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dawkins drew back haughtily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; he said, pale with passion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Dawkins,&rdquo; said Paul, with suppressed merriment, &ldquo;allow me to
+      introduce your cousin, Mr. Stubbs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jehoshaphat Stubbs,&rdquo; explained that individual. &ldquo;Didn't your father never
+      mention my name to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; said Dawkins, darting a furious glance at Paul, &ldquo;you are entirely
+      mistaken if you suppose that any relationship exists between me and that&mdash;person.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, it's you that are mistaken,&rdquo; said Mr. Stubbs, persevering, &ldquo;My mother
+      was Roxana Jane Dawkins. She was own sister to your grandfather. That
+      makes me and your father cousins Don't you see?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see that you are intending to insult me,&rdquo; said Dawkins, the more
+      furiously, because he began to fear there might be some truth in the man's
+      claims. &ldquo;Mr. Prescott, I leave you to entertain your company yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And he threw on his hat and dashed out of the counting-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said the pedler, drawing a long breath, &ldquo;that's cool,&mdash;denyin'
+      his own flesh and blood. Rather stuck up, ain't he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is, somewhat,&rdquo; said Paul; &ldquo;if I were you, I shouldn't be disposed to
+      own him as a relation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Darned ef I will!&rdquo; said Jehoshaphat sturdily; &ldquo;I have some pride, ef I am
+      a pedler. Guess I'm as good as he, any day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXVII.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      MR. MUDGE'S FRIGHT.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Squire Newcome sat in a high-backed chair before the fire with his heels
+      on the fender. He was engaged in solemnly perusing the leading editorial
+      in the evening paper, when all at once the table at his side gave a sudden
+      lurch, the lamp slid into his lap, setting the paper on fire, and, before
+      the Squire realized his situation, the flames singed his whiskers, and
+      made his face unpleasantly warm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cre-a-tion!&rdquo; he exclaimed, jumping briskly to his feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The lamp had gone out, so that the cause of the accident remained involved
+      in mystery. The Squire had little trouble in conjecturing, however, that
+      Ben was at the bottom of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Opening the door hastily, he saw, by the light in the next room, that
+      young gentleman rising from his knees in the immediate vicinity of the
+      table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ben-ja-min,&rdquo; said the Squire, sternly,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What have you been a-doing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ben looked sheepish, but said nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I repeat, Benjamin, what have you been a-doing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I didn't mean to,&rdquo; said Ben.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That does not answer my interrogatory. What have you been a-doing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was chasing the cat,&rdquo; said Ben, &ldquo;and she got under the table. I went
+      after her, and somehow it upset. Guess my head might have knocked against
+      the legs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How old are you, Benjamin?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fifteen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A boy of fifteen is too old to play with cats. You may retire to your
+      dormitory.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's only seven o'clock, father,&rdquo; said Ben, in dismay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Boys that play with cats are young enough to retire at seven,&rdquo; remarked
+      the Squire, sagaciously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was nothing for Ben but to obey.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Accordingly with reluctant steps he went up to his chamber and went to
+      bed. His active mind, together with the early hour, prevented his
+      sleeping. Instead, his fertile imagination was employed in devising some
+      new scheme, in which, of course, fun was to be the object attained. While
+      he was thinking, one scheme flashed upon him which he at once pronounced
+      &ldquo;bully.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish I could do it to-night,&rdquo; he sighed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why can't I?&rdquo; he thought, after a moment's reflection.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The more he thought of it, the more feasible it seemed, and at length he
+      decided to attempt it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rising from his bed he quickly dressed himself, and then carefully took
+      the sheet, and folding it up in small compass put it under his arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next, opening the window, he stepped out upon the sloping roof of the ell
+      part, and slid down to the end where he jumped off, the height not being
+      more than four feet from the ground. By some accident, a tub of suds was
+      standing under the eaves, and Ben, much to his disgust, jumped into it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whew!&rdquo; exclaimed he, &ldquo;I've jumped into that plaguy tub. What possessed
+      Hannah to put it in a fellow's way?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this moment the back door opened, and Hannah called out, in a shrill
+      voice, &ldquo;Who's there?&rdquo; Ben hastily hid himself, and thought it best not to
+      answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I guess 'twas the cat,&rdquo; said Hannah, as she closed the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A two-legged cat,&rdquo; thought Ben, to himself; &ldquo;thunder, what sopping wet
+      feet I've got. Well, it can't be helped.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With the sheet still under his arm, Ben climbed a fence and running across
+      the fields reached the fork of the road. Here he concealed himself under a
+      hedge, and waited silently till the opportunity for playing his practical
+      joke arrived.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I regret to say that Mr. Mudge, with whom we have already had considerable
+      to do, was not a member of the temperance society. Latterly, influenced
+      perhaps by Mrs. Mudge's tongue, which made his home far from a happy one,
+      he had got into the habit of spending his evenings at the tavern in the
+      village, where he occasionally indulged in potations that were not good
+      for him. Generally, he kept within the bounds of moderation, but
+      occasionally he exceeded these, as he had done on the present occasion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Some fifteen minutes after Ben had taken his station, he saw, in the
+      moonlight, Mr. Mudge coming up the road, on his way home. Judging from his
+      zigzag course, he was not quite himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ben waited till Mr. Mudge was close at hand, when all at once he started
+      from his place of concealment completely enveloped in the sheet with which
+      he was provided. He stood motionless before the astounded Mudge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who are you?&rdquo; exclaimed Mudge, his knees knocking together in terror,
+      clinging to an overhanging branch for support.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who are you?&rdquo; he again asked in affright.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sally Baker,&rdquo; returned Ben, in as sepulchral a voice as he could command.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally Baker was an old pauper, who had recently died. The name occurred to
+      Ben on the spur of the moment. It was with some difficulty that he
+      succeeded in getting out the name, such was his amusement at Mr. Mudge's
+      evident terror.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you want of me?&rdquo; inquired Mudge, nervously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You half starved me when I was alive,&rdquo; returned Ben, in a hollow voice,
+      &ldquo;I must be revenged.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So saying he took one step forward, spreading out his arms. This was too
+      much for Mr. Mudge. With a cry he started and ran towards home at the top
+      of his speed, with Ben in pursuit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe I shall die of laughing,&rdquo; exclaimed Ben, pausing out of breath,
+      and sitting down on a stone, &ldquo;what a donkey he is, to be sure, to think
+      there are such things as ghosts. I'd like to be by when he tells Mrs.
+      Mudge.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After a moment's thought, Ben wrapped up the sheet, took it under his arm,
+      and once more ran in pursuit of Mr. Mudge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile Mrs. Mudge was sitting in the kitchen of the Poorhouse, mending
+      stockings. She was not in the pleasantest humor, for one of the paupers
+      had managed to break a plate at tea-table (if that can be called tea where
+      no tea is provided), and trifles were sufficient to ruffle Mrs. Mudge's
+      temper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where's Mudge, I wonder?&rdquo; she said, sharply; &ldquo;over to the tavern, I
+      s'pose, as usual. There never was such a shiftless, good-for-nothing man.
+      I'd better have stayed unmarried all the days of my life than have married
+      him. If he don't get in by ten, I'll lock the door, and it shall stay
+      locked. 'Twill serve him right to stay out doors all night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Minutes slipped away, and the decisive hour approached.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll go to the door and look out,&rdquo; thought Mrs. Mudge, &ldquo;if he ain't
+      anywhere in sight I'll fasten the door.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She laid down her work and went to the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had not quite reached it when it was flung open violently, and Mr.
+      Mudge, with a wild, disordered look, rushed in, nearly overturning his
+      wife, who gazed at him with mingled anger and astonishment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean by this foolery, Mudge?&rdquo; she demanded, sternly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do I mean?&rdquo; repeated her husband, vaguely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I needn't ask you,&rdquo; said his wife, contemptuously. &ldquo;I see how it is, well
+      enough. You're drunk!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Drunk!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, drunk; as drunk as a beast.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Mrs. Mudge,&rdquo; hiccoughed her husband, in what he endeavored to make
+      a dignified tone, &ldquo;you'd be drunk too if you'd seen what I've seen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what have you seen, I should like to know?&rdquo; said Mrs. Mudge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mudge rose with some difficulty, steadied himself on his feet, and
+      approaching his wife, whispered in a tragic tone, &ldquo;Mrs. Mudge, I've seen a
+      sperrit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's plain enough that you've seen spirit,&rdquo; retorted his wife. &ldquo;'Tisn't
+      many nights that you don't, for that matter. You ought to be ashamed of
+      yourself, Mudge.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It isn't that,&rdquo; said her husband, shaking his hand, &ldquo;it's a sperrit,&mdash;a
+      ghost, that I've seen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed!&rdquo; said Mrs. Mudge, sarcastically, &ldquo;perhaps you can tell whose it
+      is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was the sperrit of Sally Baker,&rdquo; said Mudge, solemnly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What did she say?&rdquo; demanded Mrs. Mudge, a little curiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She said that I&mdash;that we, half starved her, and then she started to
+      run after me&mdash;and&mdash;oh, Lordy, there she is now!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mudge jumped trembling to his feet. Following the direction of his
+      outstretched finger, Mrs. Mudge caught a glimpse of a white figure just
+      before the window. I need hardly say that it was Ben, who had just arrived
+      upon the scene.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Mudge was at first stupefied by what she saw, but being a woman of
+      courage she speedily recovered herself, and seizing the broom from behind
+      the door, darted out in search of the &ldquo;spirit.&rdquo; But Ben, perceiving that
+      he was discovered, had disappeared, and there was nothing to be seen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Didn't I tell you so?&rdquo; muttered Mudge, as his wife re-entered, baffled in
+      her attempt, &ldquo;you'll believe it's a sperrit, now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go to bed, you fool!&rdquo; retorted his wife.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was all that passed between Mr. and Mrs. Mudge on the subject. Mr.
+      Mudge firmly believes, to this day, that the figure which appeared to him
+      was the spirit of Sally Baker.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXVIII.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      HOW BEN GOT HOME.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Delighted with the complete success of his practical joke, Ben took his
+      way homeward with the sheet under his arm. By the time he reached his
+      father's house it was ten o'clock. The question for Ben to consider now
+      was, how to get in. If his father had not fastened the front door he might
+      steal in, and slip up stairs on tiptoe without being heard. This would be
+      the easiest way of overcoming the difficulty, and Ben, perceiving that the
+      light was still burning in the sitting-room, had some hopes that he would
+      be able to adopt it. But while he was only a couple of rods distant he saw
+      the lamp taken up by his father, who appeared to be moving from the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's going to lock the front door,&rdquo; thought Ben, in disappointment; &ldquo;if I
+      had only got along five minutes sooner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      From his post outside he heard the key turn in the lock.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The 'Squire little dreamed that the son whom he imagined fast asleep in
+      his room was just outside the door he was locking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I guess I'll go round to the back part of the house,&rdquo; thought Ben,
+      &ldquo;perhaps I can get in the same way I came out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Accordingly he went round and managed to clamber upon the roof, which was
+      only four feet from the ground. But a brief trial served to convince our
+      young adventurer that it is a good deal easier sliding down a roof than it
+      is climbing up. The shingles being old were slippery, and though the
+      ascent was not steep, Ben found the progress he made was very much like
+      that of a man at the bottom of a well, who is reported as falling back two
+      feet for every three that he ascended. What increased the difficulty of
+      his attempt was that the soles of his shoes were well worn, and slippery
+      as well as the shingles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never can get up this way,&rdquo; Ben concluded, after several fruitless
+      attempts; &ldquo;I know what I'll do,&rdquo; he decided, after a moment's perplexity;
+      &ldquo;I'll pull off my shoes and stockings, and then I guess I can get along
+      better.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ben accordingly got down from the roof, and pulled off his shoes and
+      stockings. As he wanted to carry these with him, he was at first a little
+      puzzled by this new difficulty. He finally tied the shoes together by the
+      strings and hung them round his neck. He disposed of the stockings by
+      stuffing one in each pocket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now,&rdquo; thought Ben, &ldquo;I guess I can get along better. I don't know what to
+      do with the plaguy sheet, though.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But necessity is the mother of invention, and Ben found that he could
+      throw the sheet over his shoulders, as a lady does with her shawl. Thus
+      accoutered he recommenced the ascent with considerable confidence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He found that his bare feet clung to the roof more tenaciously than the
+      shoes had done, and success was already within his grasp, when an
+      unforeseen mishap frustrated his plans. He had accomplished about three
+      quarters of the ascent when all at once the string which united the shoes
+      which he had hung round his neck gave way, and both fell with a great
+      thump on the roof. Ben made a clutch for them in which he lost his own
+      hold, and made a hurried descent in their company, alighting with his bare
+      feet on some flinty gravel stones, which he found by no means agreeable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ow!&rdquo; ejaculated Ben, limping painfully, &ldquo;them plaguy gravel stones hurt
+      like thunder. I'll move 'em away the first thing to-morrow. If that
+      confounded shoe-string hadn't broken I'd have been in bed by this time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile Hannah had been sitting over the kitchen fire enjoying a social
+      chat with a &ldquo;cousin&rdquo; of hers from Ireland, a young man whom she had never
+      seen or heard of three months before. In what way he had succeeded in
+      convincing her of the relationship I have never been able to learn, but he
+      had managed to place himself on familiar visiting terms with the inmate of
+      'Squire Newcome's kitchen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's only me cousin, sir,&rdquo; Hannah explained to the 'Squire, when he had
+      questioned her on the subject; &ldquo;he's just from Ireland, sir, and it seems
+      like home to see him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      On the present occasion Tim Flaherty had outstayed his usual time, and was
+      still in the kitchen when Ben reached home. They did not at first hear
+      him, but when he made his last abortive attempt, and the shoes came
+      clattering down, they could not help hearing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's that?&rdquo; asked Hannah, listening attentively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She went to the door to look out, her cousin following.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was nothing to be seen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps you was dramin' Hannah,&rdquo; said Tim, &ldquo;more by token, it's time we
+      was both doin' that same, so I'll bid you good-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come again soon, Tim,&rdquo; said Hannah, preparing to close the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A new plan of entrance flashed upon Ben.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He quickly put on his shoes and stockings, unfolded the sheet and prepared
+      to enact the part of a ghost once more,&mdash;this time for the special
+      benefit of Hannah.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After fully attiring himself he came to the back door which Hannah had
+      already locked, and tapped three times.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hannah was engaged in raking out the kitchen fire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure it's Tim come back,&rdquo; thought she, as she went to the door. &ldquo;Perhaps
+      he's forgotten something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She opened the door unsuspiciously, fully expecting to see her Irish
+      cousin standing before her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What was her terror on beholding a white-robed figure, with extended arms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Howly virgin, defend me!&rdquo; she exclaimed, in paralyzing terror, which was
+      increased by a guttural sound which proceeded from the throat of the
+      ghost, who at the same time waved his arms aloft, and made a step towards
+      Hannah.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hannah, with a wild howl dropped the lamp and fed towards the
+      sitting-room, where 'Squire Newcome was still sitting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ben sped upstairs at the top of his speed, dashed into his own chamber,
+      spread the sheet on the bed, and undressed so rapidly that he seemed only
+      to shake his clothes off, and jumped into bed. He closed his eyes and
+      appeared to be in a profound slumber.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hannah's sudden appearance in the sitting-room in such a state naturally
+      astonished the 'Squire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the matter?&rdquo; he demanded of the affrighted servant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, sir,&rdquo; she gasped, &ldquo;I'm almost kilt entirely.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you?&rdquo; said the 'Squire, &ldquo;you appear to be more frightened than hurt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir, shure I am frightened, which indeed I couldn't help it, sir,
+      for I never saw a ghost before in all my life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A ghost! What nonsense are you talking, Hannah?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shure it's not nonsense, for it's just now that the ghost came to the
+      door, sir, and knocked, and I went to the door thinking it might be me
+      cousin, who's been passing the evening with me, when I saw a great white
+      ghost, ten foot tall, standing forninst me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ten feet tall?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir, and he spread out his arms and spoke in a terrible voice, and
+      was going to carry me off wid him, but I dropped the lamp, and O sir, I'm
+      kilt entirely.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is a strange story,&rdquo; said 'Squire Newcome, rather suspiciously; &ldquo;I
+      hope you have not been drinking.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hannah protested vehemently that not a drop of liquor had passed her lips,
+      which was true.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll go out and hunt for the ghost,&rdquo; said the 'Squire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, don't sir. He'll carry you off,&rdquo; said Hannah, terrified.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense!&rdquo; exclaimed the 'Squire. &ldquo;Follow me, or you may stay here if you
+      are frightened.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This Hannah would by no means do, since the 'Squire had taken the lamp and
+      she would be left in the dark.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Accordingly she followed him with a trembling step, as he penetrated
+      through the kitchen into the back room, ready to run at the least alarm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The back-door was wide open, but nothing was to be seen of the ghost.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps the ghost's up-stairs,&rdquo; said Hannah, &ldquo;I can't sleep up there this
+      night, shure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But something had attracted Squire Newcome's attention. It was quite muddy
+      out of doors, and Ben had tracked in considerable mud with him. The
+      footprints were very perceptible on the painted floor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The ghost seems to have had muddy shoes,&rdquo; said the 'Squire dryly; &ldquo;I
+      guess I can find him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He followed the tracks which witnessed so strongly against Ben, to whose
+      chamber they led.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ben, though still awake, appeared to be in a profound slumber.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ben-ja-min!&rdquo; said his father, stooping over the bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ben-ja-min!&rdquo; repeated his father, giving him a shake, &ldquo;what does all this
+      mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What?&rdquo; inquired Ben, opening his eyes, and looking very innocent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where have you been, to-night?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You sent me to bed,&rdquo; said Ben, &ldquo;and I came.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But the 'Squire was not to be deceived. He was already in possession of
+      too much information to be put off. So Ben, who with all his love of
+      mischief was a boy of truth, finally owned up everything. His father said
+      very little, but told him the next morning that he had made up his mind to
+      send him to a military boarding-school, where the discipline was very
+      strict. Ben hardly knew whether to be glad or sorry, but finally, as boys
+      like change and variety, came to look upon his new prospects with
+      considerable cheerfulness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXIX.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      DAWKINS IN DIFFICULTIES.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      George Dawkins was standing at his desk one morning, when a man entered
+      the office, and stepping up to him, unceremoniously tapped him on the
+      shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dawkins turned. He looked extremely annoyed on perceiving his visitor,
+      whose outward appearance was certainly far from prepossessing. His face
+      exhibited unmistakable marks of dissipation, nor did the huge breast pin
+      and other cheap finery which he wore conceal the fact of his intense
+      vulgarity. His eyes were black and twinkling, his complexion very dark,
+      and his air that of a foreigner. He was, in fact, a Frenchman, though his
+      language would hardly have betrayed him, unless, as sometimes, he chose to
+      interlard his discourse with French phrases.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How are you this morning, my friend?&rdquo; said the newcomer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are you here for?&rdquo; asked Dawkins, roughly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That does not seem to me a very polite way of receiving your friends.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Friends!&rdquo; retorted Dawkins, scornfully, &ldquo;who authorized you to call
+      yourself my friend?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Creditor, then, if it will suit you better, mon ami.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush,&rdquo; said Dawkins, in an alarmed whisper, &ldquo;he will hear,&rdquo; here he
+      indicated Paul with his finger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And why should I care? I have no secrets from the young man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stop, Duval,&rdquo; exclaimed Dawkins, in an angry whisper, &ldquo;Leave the office
+      at once. Your appearing here will injure me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I am not your friend; why should I care?&rdquo; sneered Duval.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Listen to reason. Leave me now, and I will meet you when and where you
+      will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, that sounds better.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now go. I'm afraid Mr. Danforth will be in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If he comes, introduce me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dawkins would like to have knocked the fellow over.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Name your place and time, and be quick about it,&rdquo; said he impatiently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eight o'clock this evening, you know where,&rdquo; was the answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well. Good-morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mind you bring some money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-morning,&rdquo; returned Dawkins, angrily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At length, much to his relief, Duval left the office. Dawkins stole a side
+      glance at Paul, to see what impression the interview had made upon him,
+      but our hero, who had overheard some portions of the dialogue, perceiving
+      that Dawkins wished it to be private, took as little notice of the visitor
+      as possible. He could not help thinking, however, that Duval was a man
+      whose acquaintance was likely to be of little benefit to his fellow clerk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Throughout the day Dawkins appeared unusually nervous, and made several
+      blunders which annoyed Mr. Danforth. Evidently he had something on his
+      mind. Not to keep the reader in suspense, George had fallen among bad
+      companions, where he had learned both to drink and to gamble. In this way
+      he had made the acquaintance of Duval, an unscrupulous sharper, who had
+      contrived to get away all his ready money, and persuading him to play
+      longer in the hope of making up his losses had run him into debt one
+      hundred and fifty dollars. Dawkins gave him an acknowledgment of
+      indebtedness to that amount. This of course placed him in Duval's power,
+      since he knew of no means of raising such a sum. He therefore kept out of
+      the Frenchman's way, avoiding the old haunts where he would have been
+      likely to meet him. Dawkins supposed Duval ignorant of the whereabouts of
+      his employer's counting-room. So he had been, but he made it his business
+      to ascertain where it was. He had no idea of losing sight of so valuable a
+      prize.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dawkins would willingly have broken the appointment he had made with
+      Duval, but he did not dare to do so. He knew that the man was well able to
+      annoy him, and he would not on any account have had the affair disclosed
+      to his father or Mr. Danforth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As Trinity clock struck eight, he entered a low bar-room in the
+      neighborhood of the docks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A young man with pale, sandy hair stood behind the counter with his
+      sleeves rolled up. He was supplying the wants of a sailor who already
+      appeared to have taken more drink than was good for him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good evening, Mr. Dawkins,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;you're a stranger.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is Duval in?&rdquo; inquired Dawkins, coldly. His pride revolted at the place
+      and company. He had never been here but once before, having met Duval
+      elsewhere.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's up in his room. John show the young gentleman up to No. 9. Won't you
+      have a glass of something this evening?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Dawkins, abruptly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The boy preceded him up a dark and dirty staircase.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's the room, sir,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stop a minute,&rdquo; said Dawkins, &ldquo;he may not be in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He inwardly hoped he might not. But Duval answered his knock by coming to
+      the door himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Delighted to see you, mon ami. John, may leave the lamp. That's all,
+      unless Mr. Dawkins wishes to order something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want nothing,&rdquo; said Dawkins.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They have some capital brandy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not in the mood for drinking tonight.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As you please,&rdquo; said the Frenchman, disappointed; &ldquo;be seated.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dawkins sat down in a wooden rocking-chair, minus an arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Duval, &ldquo;how much money have you brought me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;None.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Frenchman frowned and stroked his mustache, fiercely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What does all this mean? Are you going to put me off longer?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would pay it if I could,&rdquo; said Dawkins, &ldquo;but I haven't got the money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You could get it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ask your father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My father would rave if he knew that I had lost money in such a way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you need not tell him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I ask for money, he will be sure to ask what I want it for.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell him you want clothes, or a watch, or a hundred things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dawkins shook his head; &ldquo;it won't do,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;He wouldn't give me a
+      hundred and fifty dollars.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then ask seventy-five, and I will wait a month for the rest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look here, Duval, you have no rightful claim to this money. You've got
+      enough out of me. Just tear up the paper.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Duval laughed scornfully, &ldquo;Aha, Mr. Dawkins,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;that would be a
+      very pretty arrangement FOR YOU. But I don't see how it is going to
+      benefit me. No, no, I can't afford to throw away a hundred and fifty
+      dollars so easily. If I was a rich man like your father it would make a
+      difference.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you won't remit the debt,&rdquo; said Dawkins, sullenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You would think me a great ninny, if I did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you may collect it the best way you can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean by that?&rdquo; demanded the Frenchman, his face darkening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean what I say,&rdquo; said Dawkins, desperately, &ldquo;Gambling debts are not
+      recognizable in law.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing is said about it's being a gambling debt. I have your note.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which is worth nothing, since I am a minor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Duval's face became black with rage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aha, my friend,&rdquo; said he showing his teeth, &ldquo;this is a very nice game to
+      cheat me out of my money. But it won't do, it won't do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why won't it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall say a word in your father's ear, mon ami, and in the ear of your
+      worthy employer whom you were so anxious for me not to see, and perhaps
+      that would be worse for you than to pay me my money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dawkins's brief exultation passed away. He saw that he was indeed in the
+      power of an unscrupulous man, who was disposed to push his advantage to
+      the utmost.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He subsided into a moody silence, which Duval watched with satisfaction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, my friend, what will you do about it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know what I can do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will think of something. You will find it best,&rdquo; said the Frenchman,
+      in a tone which veiled a threat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will try,&rdquo; said Dawkins, gloomily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is well. I thought you would listen to reason, mon ami. Now we will
+      have a pleasant chat. Hold, I will order some brandy myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not for me,&rdquo; said Dawkins, rising from his chair, &ldquo;I must be going.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you not have one little game?&rdquo; asked Duval, coaxingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, I have had enough of that. Goodnight.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you won't stop. And when shall I have the pleasure of seeing you at
+      my little apartment once more?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If it is any trouble to you to come, I will call at your office,&rdquo; said
+      Duval, significantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't trouble yourself,&rdquo; said Dawkins, hastily; &ldquo;I will come here a week
+      from today.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A week is a long time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Long or short, I must have it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, mon ami. A week let it be. Good-night. Mind the stairs as you
+      go down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dawkins breathed more freely as he passed out into the open air. He was
+      beginning to realize that the way of the transgressor is hard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXX.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      A TRAP IS LAID FOR PAUL.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Three months before, George Dawkins had made his first visit to a gambling
+      house. At first, he had entered only from curiosity. He watched the play
+      with an interest which gradually deepened, until he was easily persuaded
+      to try his own luck. The stakes were small, but fortune favored him, and
+      he came out some dollars richer than he entered. It would have been
+      fortunate for him if he had failed. As it was, his good fortune encouraged
+      him to another visit. This time he was less fortunate, but his gains about
+      balanced his losses, so that he came out even. On the next occasion he
+      left off with empty pockets. So it went on until at length he fell into
+      the hands of Duval, who had no scruple in fleecing him to as great an
+      extent as he could be induced to go.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      George Dawkins's reflections were not of the most cheerful character as,
+      leaving Duval, he slowly pursued his way homeward. He felt that he had
+      fallen into the power of an unscrupulous villain, who would have no mercy
+      upon him. He execrated his own folly, without which all the machination of
+      Duval would have been without effect.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The question now, however, was, to raise the money. He knew of no one to
+      whom he could apply except his father, nor did he have much hope from that
+      quarter. Still, he would make the effort.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Reaching home he found his father seated in the library. He looked up from
+      the evening paper as George entered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only half-past nine,&rdquo; he said, with an air of sarcasm. &ldquo;You spend your
+      evenings out so systematically that your early return surprises me. How is
+      it? Has the theater begun to lose its charm!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no great sympathy between father and son, and if either felt
+      affection for the other, it was never manifested. Mutual recrimination was
+      the rule between them, and George would now have made an angry answer but
+      that he had a favor to ask, and felt it politic to be conciliatory.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I had supposed you cared for my society, sir, I would have remained at
+      home oftener.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Umph!&rdquo; was the only reply elicited from his father.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;However, there was a good reason for my not going to the theater
+      to-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had no money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your explanation is quite satisfactory,&rdquo; said his father, with a slight
+      sneer. &ldquo;I sympathize in your disappointment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is no occasion, sir,&rdquo; said George, good humoredly, for him. &ldquo;I had
+      no great desire to go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dawkins took down a book from the library and tried to read, but without
+      much success. His thoughts continually recurred to his pecuniary
+      embarrassments, and the debt which he owed to Duval seemed to hang like a
+      millstone around his neck. How should he approach his father on the
+      subject? In his present humor he feared he would have little chance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As his father laid down the newspaper Dawkins said, &ldquo;Wouldn't you like a
+      game of checkers, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This, as he well knew, was a favorite game with his father.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know but I should,&rdquo; said Mr. Dawkins, more graciously than was
+      his wont.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The checker-board was brought, and the two commenced playing. Three games
+      were played all of which his father won. This appeared to put him in a
+      good humor, for as the two ceased playing, he drew a ten-dollar-bill from
+      his pocket-book, and handed to his son, with the remark, &ldquo;There, George, I
+      don't want you to be penniless. You are a little extravagant, though, I
+      think. Your pay from Mr. Danforth ought to keep you in spending money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir, I have been rather extravagant, but I am going to reform.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am very glad to hear it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish, sir,&rdquo; said George a moment afterwards, &ldquo;that you would allow me
+      to buy my own clothes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've no sort of an objection, I am sure. You select them now, don't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir, but I mean to suggest that you should make me an allowance for
+      that purpose,&mdash;about as much as it costs now,&mdash;and give me the
+      money to spend where I please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Dawkins looked sharply at his son.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The result would probably be,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;that the money would be expended
+      in other ways, and I should have to pay for the clothes twice over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dawkins would have indignantly disclaimed this, if he had not felt that he
+      was not altogether sincere in the request he had made.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; continued his father, &ldquo;I don't like the arrangement you propose.
+      When you need clothing you can go to my tailor and order it, of course not
+      exceeding reasonable limits.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; said Dawkins, desperately, &ldquo;I don't like Bradshaw's style of making
+      clothes. I would prefer trying some other tailor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What fault have you to find with Bradshaw? Is he not one of the most
+      fashionable tailors in the city?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir, I suppose so, but&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, sir, you are growing altogether too particular. All your garments
+      set well, so far as I can judge.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir, but one likes a change sometimes,&rdquo; persisted George, a little
+      embarrassed for further objections.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Mr. Dawkins, after a pause, &ldquo;If you are so strongly bent upon
+      a new tailor, select one, and order what you need. You can tell him to
+      send in his bill to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you sir,&rdquo; said his son, by no means pleased at the manner in which
+      his request had been granted. He saw that it would in no manner promote
+      the plan which he had in view, since it would give him no command of the
+      ready money. It is hardly necessary to say that his alleged
+      dissatisfaction with his father's tailor had all been trumped up for the
+      occasion, and would never have been thought of but for the present
+      emergency.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What shall I do!&rdquo; thought Dawkins, in perplexity, as he slowly undressed
+      himself and retired to bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The only true course, undoubtedly, was to confess all to his father, to
+      incur the storm of reproaches which would have followed as the just
+      penalty of his transgression, and then the haunting fear of discovery
+      would have been once and forever removed. But Dawkins was not brave enough
+      for this. He thought only of escaping from his present difficulty without
+      his father's knowledge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He rose the next morning with the burden of care still weighing upon him.
+      In the evening the thought occurred to him that he might retrieve his
+      losses where he had incurred them, and again he bent his steps to the
+      gambling house. He risked five dollars, being one-half of what he had.
+      This was lost. Desperately he hazarded the remaining five dollars, and
+      lost again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With a muttered oath he sprang to his feet, and left the brilliant room,
+      more gloomy and discouraged than ever. He was as badly off as before, and
+      penniless beside. He would have finished the evening at the theater, but
+      his recent loss prevented that. He lounged about the streets till it was
+      time to go to bed, and then went home in a very unsatisfactory state of
+      mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A day or two after, he met on Broadway the man whom of all others he would
+      gladly have avoided.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aha, my friend, I am glad to meet you,&rdquo; said Duval, for it was he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dawkins muttered something unintelligible, and would have hurried on, but
+      Duval detained him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why are you in such a hurry, my friend?&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Business,&rdquo; returned Dawkins, shortly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That reminds me of the little business affair between us, mon ami. Have
+      you got any money for me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not yet! It is three days since we saw each other. Could you not do
+      something in three days?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I told you I required a week,&rdquo; said Dawkins, roughly, &ldquo;Let go my arm. I
+      tell you I am in haste.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, mon ami,&rdquo; said Duval, slowly relinquishing his hold, &ldquo;take
+      care that you do not forget. There are four days more to the week.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dawkins hurried on feeling very uncomfortable. He was quite aware that
+      four days hence he would be as unprepared to encounter the Frenchman as
+      now. Still, something might happen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Something, unfortunately, did happen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next day Mr. Danforth was counting a roll of bills which had been just
+      paid in, when he was unexpectedly called out of the counting-room. He
+      unguardedly left the bills upon his own desk. Dawkins saw them lying
+      there. The thought flashed upon him, &ldquo;There lies what will relieve me from
+      all my embarrassment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Allowing himself scarcely a minute to think, he took from the roll four
+      fifty dollar notes, thrust one into the pocket of Paul's overcoat, which
+      hung up in the office, drew off his right boot and slipped the other three
+      into the bottom of it, and put it on again. He then nervously resumed his
+      place at his desk. A moment afterwards, Paul, who had been to the
+      post-office, entered with letters which he carried into the inner office
+      and deposited on Mr. Danforth's desk. He observed the roll of bills, and
+      thought his employer careless in leaving so much money exposed, but said
+      nothing on the subject to Dawkins, between whom and himself there was
+      little communication.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXXI.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      CONVICTED OF THEFT.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Half an hour later Mr. Danforth returned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has any one been here?&rdquo; he asked as he passed through the outer office.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir,&rdquo; said Dawkins, with outward composure though his heart was
+      beating rapidly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While apparently intent upon his writing he listened attentively to what
+      might be going on in the next room. One,&mdash;two,&mdash;three minutes
+      passed. Mr. Danforth again showed himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you say that no one has been here?&rdquo; he demanded, abruptly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have either of you been into my office since I have been out?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have not, sir,&rdquo; said Dawkins.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I went in to carry your letters,&rdquo; said Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you see a roll of bills lying on my desk?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; said Paul, a little surprised at the question.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have just counted it over, and find but six hundred dollars instead of
+      eight hundred. Can you account for the discrepancy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Danforth looked keenly at the two boys. Dawkins, who had schooled
+      himself to the ordeal, maintained his outward calmness. Paul, beginning to
+      perceive that his honesty was called in question, flushed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir,&rdquo; said the boys simultaneously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It can hardly be possible, that Mr. Thompson, who is a very careful man,
+      should have made such a mistake in paying me,&rdquo; resumed Mr. Danforth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As we have been the only persons here,&rdquo; said Dawkins, &ldquo;the only way to
+      vindicate ourselves from suspicion is, to submit to a search.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; said Paul promptly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Both boys turned their pockets inside out, but the missing money was not
+      found.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is my overcoat, sir,&rdquo; said Dawkins, &ldquo;will you be kind enough to
+      search it for yourself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Next, of course, Paul's overcoat was searched.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What was our hero's dismay when from one of the pockets Mr. Danforth
+      produced a fifty dollar bill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it possible?&rdquo; he exclaimed in as much grief as surprise, &ldquo;Unhappy boy,
+      how came you by this money in your pocket?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know, sir,&rdquo; returned Paul, his cheek alternately flushing and
+      growing pale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish I could believe you,&rdquo; said Mr. Danforth; &ldquo;where have you put the
+      other bills? Produce them, and I may overlook this first offense.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed, sir,&rdquo; said Paul, in great distress, &ldquo;I have not the slightest
+      knowledge of how this bill came into my pocket. I hope you will believe
+      me, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How can I? The money evidently did not go into your pocket without
+      hands.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A sudden thought came to Paul. &ldquo;Dawkins,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;did you put that money
+      into my pocket?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean, sir?&rdquo; returned Dawkins, haughtily. &ldquo;Is it your
+      intention to insult me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dawkins could not prevent his face from flushing as he spoke, but this
+      might easily be referred to a natural resentment of the imputation cast
+      upon him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Paul,&rdquo; said his employer, coldly, &ldquo;you will not help your own cause by
+      seeking to involve another. After what has happened you can hardly expect
+      me to retain you in my employment. I will not make public your disgrace,
+      nor will I inquire farther for the remainder of the money for which you
+      have been willing to barter your integrity. I will pay your wages up to
+      the end of this week, and&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Danforth,&rdquo; said Paul, manfully, though the tears almost choked his
+      utterance, &ldquo;I am sorry that you have no better opinion of me. I do not
+      want the balance of my wages. If I have taken so large a sum which did not
+      belong to me, I have no claim to them. Good-morning, sir. Sometime I hope
+      you will think better of me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul put on his coat, and taking his cap from the nail on which it hung,
+      bowed respectfully to his employer and left the office.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Danforth looked after him, and seemed perplexed. Could Paul be guilty
+      after all?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never could have suspected him if I had not this evidence in my hand,&rdquo;
+       said Mr. Danforth, to himself, fixing his eyes upon the bill which he had
+      drawn from Paul's overcoat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dawkins, did you observe whether Paul remained long in the office?&rdquo; he
+      asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Longer than sufficient to lay the letters on the desk?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir, I think he did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you notice whether he went to his overcoat after coming out?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir, he did,&rdquo; said Dawkins, anxious to fix in Mr. Danforth's mind
+      the impression of Paul's guilt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I am afraid it is true,&rdquo; said his employer sadly. &ldquo;And yet, what a
+      fine, manly boy he is too. But it is a terrible fault.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Danforth was essentially a kind-hearted man, and he cared much more
+      for Paul's dereliction from honesty than for the loss of the money. Going
+      home early to dinner, he communicated to his wife the unpleasant discovery
+      which he had made respecting Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, from the first, Paul had been a great favorite with Mrs. Danforth,
+      and she scouted at the idea of his dishonesty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Depend upon it, Mr. Danforth,&rdquo; she said decisively, &ldquo;you have done the
+      boy an injustice. I have some skill in reading faces, and I tell you that
+      a boy with Paul Prescott's open, frank expression is incapable of such a
+      crime.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I should have said, my dear, but we men learn to be less trustful than
+      you ladies, who stay at home and take rose-colored views of life.
+      Unfortunately, we see too much of the dark side of human nature.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So that you conclude all to be dark.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not so bad as that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me all the circumstances, and perhaps a woman's wit may help you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Danforth communicated all the details, with which the reader is
+      already familiar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What sort of a boy is this Dawkins?&rdquo; she asked, &ldquo;Do you like him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not particularly. He does his duties passably well. I took him into my
+      counting-room to oblige his father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps he is the thief.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To tell the truth I would sooner have suspected him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has he cleared himself from suspicion?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He was the first to suggest a search.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Precisely the thing he would have done, if he had placed the bill in
+      Paul's pocket. Of course he would know that the search must result
+      favorably for him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is something in that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Besides, what could have been more foolish, if Paul wished to hide the
+      money, than to multiply his chances of detection by hiding it in two
+      different places, especially where one was so obvious as to afford no
+      concealment at all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Admitting this to be true, how am I to arrive at the proof of Paul's
+      innocence?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My own opinion is, that George Dawkins has the greater part of the money
+      stolen. Probably he has taken it for some particular purpose. What it is,
+      you may learn, perhaps, by watching him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will be guided by your suggestion. Nothing would afford me greater
+      pleasure than to find that I have been mistaken in assuming Paul's guilt,
+      though on evidence that seemed convincing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This conversation took place at the dinner-table. Mr. Danforth understood
+      that no time was to be lost if he expected to gain any information from
+      the movements of his clerk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      George Dawkins had ventured upon a bold act, but he had been apparently
+      favored by fortune, and had succeeded. That he should have committed this
+      crime without compunction could hardly be expected. His uneasiness,
+      however, sprang chiefly from the fear that in some way he might yet be
+      detected. He resolved to get rid of the money which he had obtained
+      dishonestly, and obtain back from Duval the acknowledgment of indebtedness
+      which he had given him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      You will perhaps ask whether the wrong which he had done Paul affected him
+      with uneasiness. On the contrary, it gratified the dislike which from the
+      first he had cherished towards our hero.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am well rid of him, at all events,&rdquo; he muttered to himself, &ldquo;that is
+      worth risking some thing for.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When office hours were over Dawkins gladly threw down his pen, and left
+      the counting-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He bent his steps rapidly towards the locality where he had before met
+      Duval. He had decided to wait some time before meeting that worthy. He had
+      to wait till another day, when as he was emerging from the tavern he
+      encountered the Frenchman on the threshold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aha, my good friend,&rdquo; said Duval, offering his hand, which Dawkins did
+      not appear to see, &ldquo;I am very glad to see you. Will you come in?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I have not time,&rdquo; said Dawkins, shortly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you brought me my money?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aha, that is well. I was just about what you call cleaned out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you my note with you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Duval fumbled in his pocket-book, and finally produced the desired
+      document.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give it to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must have the money first,&rdquo; said the Frenchman, shrewdly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take it,&rdquo; said Dawkins contemptuously. &ldquo;Do you judge me by yourself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He tore the note which he received into small pieces, and left Duval
+      without another word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sheltered by the darkness, Mr. Danforth, who had tracked the steps of
+      Dawkins, had been an unseen witness of this whole transaction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXXII.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      RIGHT TRIUMPHANT.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      George Dawkins resumed his duties the next morning as usual.
+      Notwithstanding the crime he had committed to screen himself from the
+      consequences of a lighter fault, he felt immeasurably relieved at the
+      thought that he had shaken himself free from the clutches of Duval. His
+      satisfaction was heightened by the disgrace and summary dismissal of Paul,
+      whom he had never liked. He decided to ask the place for a cousin of his
+      own, whose society would be more agreeable to him than that of his late
+      associate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-morning, sir,&rdquo; he said, as Mr. Danforth entered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-morning,&rdquo; returned his employer, coldly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you selected any one in Prescott's place, yet, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why do you ask?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I have a cousin, Malcolm Harcourt, who would be glad to take it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed!&rdquo; said Mr. Danforth, whose manner somewhat puzzled Dawkins.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should enjoy having him with me,&rdquo; continued Dawkins.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you like Prescott?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir,&rdquo; said Dawkins, promptly, &ldquo;I didn't want to say so before, but
+      now, since he's turned out so badly, I don't mind saying that I never
+      thought much of him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On the contrary,&rdquo; said Mr. Danforth, &ldquo;I liked him from the first. Perhaps
+      we are wrong in thinking that he took the money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should think there could be no doubt of it,&rdquo; said Dawkins, not liking
+      the sympathy and returning good feeling for Paul which his employer
+      manifested.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't agree with you,&rdquo; said Mr. Danforth, coldly. &ldquo;I have decided to
+      reinstate Paul in his former place.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, if any more money is missing, you will know where it has gone,&rdquo;
+       said Dawkins, hastily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then there is no chance for my cousin?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am expecting to have a vacancy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dawkins looked up in surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall require some one to fill YOUR place,&rdquo; said Mr. Danforth,
+      significantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir!&rdquo; exclaimed Dawkins, in astonishment and dismay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His employer bent a searching glance upon him as he asked, sternly, &ldquo;where
+      did you obtain the money which you paid away last evening?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;don't&mdash;understand&mdash;you, sir,&rdquo; gasped Dawkins, who
+      understood only too well.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You met a man at the door of a low tavern in&mdash;Street, last evening,
+      to whom you paid one hundred and fifty dollars, precisely the sum which I
+      lost yesterday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who has been slandering me, sir?&rdquo; asked Dawkins, very pale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An eye-witness of the meeting, who heard the conversation between you. If
+      you want more satisfactory proof, here it is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Danforth took from his pocket-book the torn fragments of the note
+      which Dawkins had given to Duval.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here is an obligation to pay a certain Duval the sum of one hundred and
+      fifty dollars. It bears your signature. How you could have incurred such a
+      debt to him you best know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dawkins maintained a sullen silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose you wish me to leave your employment,&rdquo; he said at length.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are right. Hold,&rdquo; he added, as Dawkins was about leaving the room, &ldquo;a
+      word more. It is only just that you should make a restitution of the sum
+      which you have taken. If you belonged to a poor family and there were
+      extenuating circumstances, I might forego my claim. But your father is
+      abundantly able to make good the loss, and I shall require you to lay the
+      matter before him without loss of time. In consideration of your youth, I
+      shall not bring the matter before the public tribunals, as I have a right
+      to do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dawkins turned pale at this allusion, and muttering some words to the
+      effect that he would do what he could, left the counting-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This threat proved not to be without its effect. The next day he came to
+      Mr. Danforth and brought the sum for which he had become responsible. He
+      had represented to his father that he had had his pocket picked of this
+      sum belonging to Mr. Danforth, and in that manner obtained an equal amount
+      to replace it. It was some time before Mr. Dawkins learned the truth. Then
+      came a storm of reproaches in which all the bitterness of his father's
+      nature was fully exhibited. There had never been much love between father
+      and son. Henceforth there was open hatred.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We must return to Paul, whom we left in much trouble.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a sad walk which he took homeward on the morning of his dismissal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What brings you home so early?&rdquo; asked Mrs. Cameron, looking up from her
+      baking, as Paul entered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul tried to explain, but tears came to his eyes, and sobs choked his
+      utterance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you sick, Paul?&rdquo; exclaimed Mrs. Cameron, in alarm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Aunt Hester.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then what is the matter?&rdquo; she asked anxiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have lost my place.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor boy! I am very sorry to hear it. But it might have been worse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, not very well, Aunt Hester, for Mr. Danforth thinks I have taken some
+      of his money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is very unjust!&rdquo; exclaimed Aunt Hester, indignantly, &ldquo;he ought to have
+      known better than to think you would steal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, no,&rdquo; said Paul, candidly, &ldquo;I must confess the evidence was against
+      me, and he doesn't know me as well as you do, Aunt Hester.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me all about it, Paul.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Aunt Hester sat down and listened attentively to our hero's story.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you account for the money being found in your pocket?&rdquo; she asked
+      at length.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think it must have been put there by some one else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you any suspicions?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Paul, a little reluctantly, &ldquo;but I don't know whether I ought
+      to have. I may be wronging an innocent person.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At any rate it won't do any harm to tell me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You've heard me speak of George Dawkins?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't help thinking that he put the fifty dollars into my pocket, and
+      took the rest himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How very wicked he must be!&rdquo; exclaimed Mrs. Cameron, indignantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't judge him too hastily; Aunt Hester, he may not be guilty, and I
+      know from my own experience how hard it is to be accused when you are
+      innocent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Soon after the sexton came in, and Paul of course, told his story over
+      again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind, Paul,&rdquo; said Uncle Hugh, cheerily. &ldquo;You know your own
+      innocence; that is the main thing. It's a great thing to have a clear
+      conscience.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I liked Mr. Danforth and I think he liked me. It's hard to feel that
+      he and Mrs. Danforth will both think me guilty, especially after the
+      kindness which I have experienced from them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We all have our crosses, my boy,&mdash;some light and others heavy.
+      Yours, I admit is a heavy one for a boy to bear. But when men are unjust
+      there is One above who will deal justly with us. You have not forgotten
+      him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Uncle Hugh,&rdquo; said Paul, reverently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Trust in him, Paul, and all will come out right at last. He can prove
+      your innocence, and you may be sure he will, in his own good time. Only be
+      patient, Paul.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will try to be, Uncle Hugh.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The simple, hearty trust in God, which the sexton manifested, was not lost
+      upon Paul. Sustained by his own consciousness of innocence, and the
+      confidence reposed in him by those who knew him best, his mind soon
+      regained its cheerful tone. He felt an inward conviction that God would
+      vindicate his innocence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His vindication came sooner than he anticipated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next day as the sexton's family were seated at their plain dinner, a
+      knock was heard upon the outer door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit still, Hester,&rdquo; said Mr. Cameron. &ldquo;I will go to the door.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Opening the door he recognized Mr. Danforth, who attended the same church.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Cameron, I believe,&rdquo; said Mr. Danforth, pleasantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I come in? I am here on a little business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly, Mr. Danforth. Excuse my not inviting you before; but in my
+      surprise at seeing you, I forgot my politeness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The sexton led the way into the plain sitting-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe Paul Prescott is an inmate of your family.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir. I am sorry&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know what you would say, sir; but it is needless. May I see Paul a
+      moment?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul was surprised at the summons, and still more surprised at finding who
+      it was that wished to see him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He entered the room slowly, uncertain how to accost Mr. Danforth. His
+      employer solved the doubt in his mind by advancing cordially, and taking
+      his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Paul,&rdquo; he said pleasantly, &ldquo;I have come here to ask your forgiveness for
+      an injustice, and to beg you to resume your place in my counting-room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you found out who took the money, sir?&rdquo; asked Paul, eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who was it, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was Dawkins.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Danforth explained how he had become acquainted with the real thief.
+      In conclusion, he said, &ldquo;I shall expect you back to-morrow morning, Paul.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dawkins of course leaves my employ. You will take his place, and receive
+      his salary, seven dollars a week instead of five. Have you any friend whom
+      you would like to have in your own place?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul reflected a moment and finally named a schoolmate of his, the son of
+      poor parents, whom he knew to be anxiously seeking a situation, but
+      without influential friends to help him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will take him on your recommendation,&rdquo; said Mr. Danforth, promptly.
+      &ldquo;Can you see him this afternoon?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; said Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next day Paul resumed his place in Mr. Danforth's counting-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXXIII.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      PAUL REDEEMS HIS PLEDGE.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Two years passed, unmarked by any incident of importance. Paul continued
+      in Mr. Danforth's employment, giving, if possible, increased satisfaction.
+      He was not only faithful, but exhibited a rare aptitude for business,
+      which made his services of great value to his employer. From time to time
+      Mr. Danforth increased his salary, so that, though only nineteen, he was
+      now receiving twelve dollars per week, with the prospect of a speedy
+      increase. But with his increasing salary, he did not increase his
+      expenses. He continued as economical as ever. He had not forgotten his
+      father's dying injunction. He remained true to the charge which he had
+      taken upon himself, that of redeeming his father's memory from reproach.
+      This, at times subjected him to the imputation of meanness, but for this
+      he cared little. He would not swerve from the line of duty which he had
+      marked out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One evening as he was walking down Broadway with an acquaintance, Edward
+      Hastings, who was employed in a counting-room near him, they paused before
+      a transparency in front of a hall brilliantly lighted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Hutchinsons are going to sing to-night, Paul,&rdquo; said Hastings. &ldquo;Did
+      you ever hear them?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; but I have often wished to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then suppose we go in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I believe not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not. Paul? It seems to me you never go anywhere. You ought to amuse
+      yourself now and then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Some other time I will,&mdash;not now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are not required to be at home in the evening, are you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then why not come in now? It's only twenty-five cents.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To tell the truth, Ned, I am saving up my money for a particular purpose;
+      and until that is accomplished, I avoid all unnecessary expense.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Going to invest in a house in Fifth Avenue? When you do, I'll call.
+      However, never mind the expense. I'll pay you in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm much obliged to you, Ned, but I can't accept.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because at present I can't afford to return the favor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I do mind it. By-and-by I shall feel more free. Good-night, if you
+      are going in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-night, Paul.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's a strange fellow,&rdquo; mused Hastings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's impossible to think him mean, and yet, it looks a great deal like
+      it. He spends nothing for dress or amusements. I do believe that I've had
+      three coats since he's been wearing that old brown one. Yet, he always
+      looks neat. I wonder what he's saving up his money for.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile Paul went home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sexton and his wife looked the same as ever. Paul sometimes fancied
+      that Uncle Hugh stooped a little more than he used to do; but his life
+      moved on so placidly and evenly, that he grew old but slowly. Aunt Hester
+      was the same good, kind, benevolent friend that she had always been. No
+      mother could have been more devoted to Paul. He felt that he had much to
+      be grateful for, in his chance meeting with this worthy couple.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the first of January,&mdash;a clear, cold day. A pleasant fire
+      burned in the little stove. Mr. Cameron sat at one side, reading the
+      evening paper; Mrs. Cameron at the other, knitting a stocking for Paul. A
+      large, comfortable-looking cat was dozing tranquilly on the hearth-rug.
+      Paul, who had been seated at the table, rose and lighted a candle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where are you going, Paul?&rdquo; asked Aunt Hester.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Up-stairs for a moment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul speedily returned, bearing in his hand a small blue bank-book, with
+      his name on the cover.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He took out his pencil and figured a few minutes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Uncle Hugh,&rdquo; said he, looking up, &ldquo;when I get a hundred dollars more, I
+      shall have enough to pay father's debt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Principal and interest?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, principal and interest; reckoning the interest for a year to come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not suppose you had so much money, Paul. You must have been very
+      economical.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Uncle Hugh more so than I have wanted to be, oftentimes; but
+      whenever I have been tempted to spend a cent unnecessarily, I have always
+      called to mind my promise made to father on his deathbed, and I have
+      denied myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have done well, Paul. There are few who would have had the resolution
+      to do as you have.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh yes, Uncle Hugh,&rdquo; said Paul, modestly, &ldquo;I think there are a great
+      many. I begin to feel repaid already. In a few months I shall be able to
+      pay up the whole debt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this moment a knock was heard at the door. Mr. Cameron answered the
+      summons.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does Mr. Paul Prescott live here?&rdquo; inquired a boy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Do you want to see him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here is a letter for him. There is no answer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The messenger departed, leaving the letter in Mr. Cameron's hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Somewhat surprised, he returned to the sitting-room and handed it to Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul opened it hastily, and discovered inclosed, a bank-note for one
+      hundred dollars. It was accompanied with a note from his employer, stating
+      that it was intended as a New Year's gift, but in the hurry of business,
+      he had forgotten to give it to him during the day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul's face lighted up with joy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Uncle Hugh!&rdquo; he exclaimed, almost breathless with delight. &ldquo;Don't you
+      see that this will enable me to pay my debt at once?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So it will, Paul. I wish you joy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And my father's memory will be vindicated,&rdquo; said Paul, in a tone of deep
+      satisfaction. &ldquo;If he could only have lived to see this day!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A fortnight later, Paul obtained permission from his employer to be absent
+      from the office for a week. It was his purpose to visit Cedarville and
+      repay 'Squire Conant the debt due him: and then, to go across the country
+      to Wrenville, thirty miles distant, to see Aunt Lucy Lee. First, however,
+      he ordered a new suit of a tailor, feeling a desire to appear to the best
+      advantage on his return to the scene of his former humiliation. I must not
+      omit to say that Paul was now a fine-looking young fellow of nineteen,
+      with a frank, manly face, that won favor wherever he went.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In due course of time, he arrived at Cedarville, and found his way without
+      difficulty to the house of 'Squire Conant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a large house, rather imposing in its exterior, being quite the
+      finest residence in the village.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul went up the walk, and rang the bell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can I see 'Squire Conant?&rdquo; he asked of the servant who answered the bell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'll find him in that room,&rdquo; said the girl, pointing to a door on the
+      left hand of the hall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As he doesn't know me, perhaps you had better go before.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The door was opened, and Paul found himself in the presence of his
+      father's creditor. 'Squire Conant was looking pale and thin. He was just
+      recovering from a severe sickness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I presume you don't recognize me, sir,&rdquo; said Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did I ever see you before?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir; my name is Paul Prescott.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not the son of John Prescott?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The same, sir. I believe my father died in your debt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. I lent him five hundred dollars, which he never repaid.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He tried to do so, sir. He had saved up a hundred and fifty dollars
+      towards it, but sickness came upon him, and he was obliged to use it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      'Squire Conant's temper had been subdued by the long and dangerous illness
+      through which he had passed. It had made him set a smaller value on his
+      earthly possessions, from which he might be separated at any moment. When
+      he answered Paul, it was in a manner which our hero did not expect.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind. I can afford to lose it. I have no doubt he did what he
+      could.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I have come to pay it, sir,&rdquo; said Paul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You!&rdquo; exclaimed 'Squire Conant, in the greatest astonishment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where did you get the money?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I earned it, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you are very young. How could you have earned so much?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul frankly told the story of his struggles; how for years he had
+      practised a pinching economy, in order to redeem his father's memory from
+      reproach.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      'Squire Conant listened attentively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a good boy,&rdquo; he said, at length.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall you have anything left after paying this money?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir; but I shall soon earn more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Still, you ought to have something to begin the world with. You shall pay
+      me half the money, and I will cancel the note.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, sir,&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a word. I am satisfied, and that is enough. If I hadn't lent your
+      father the money, I might have invested it with the rest, and lost all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      'Squire Conant produced the note from a little trunk of papers, and handed
+      it to Paul, who paid him the amount which he had stipulated, expressing at
+      the same time his gratitude for his unexpected generosity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind about thanks, my boy,&rdquo; said 'Squire Conant: &ldquo;I am afraid I
+      have loved money too well heretofore. I hope I am not too old to turn over
+      a new leaf.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXXIV.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      HOW PAUL GOES BACK TO WRENVILLE.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      While 'Squire Conant was speaking, Paul formed a sudden resolution. He
+      remembered that Aunt Lucy Lee was a sister of 'Squire Conant. Perhaps, in
+      his present frame of mind, it might be possible to induce him to do
+      something for her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe I am acquainted with a sister of yours, 'Squire Conant,&rdquo; he
+      commenced.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha!&rdquo; exclaimed the 'Squire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mrs. Lucy Lee.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; was the slow reply; &ldquo;she is my sister. Where did you meet her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At the Wrenville Poorhouse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How long ago?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About six years since.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is she there, still?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir. Since I have been in New York, I have heard from her
+      frequently. I am going from here to visit her. Have you any message, sir?
+      I am sure she would be glad to hear from you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She shall hear from me,&rdquo; said the 'Squire in a low voice. &ldquo;Sit down, and
+      I will write her a letter which, I hope, will not prove unwelcome.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Five minutes afterwards he handed Paul an open letter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may read it,&rdquo; he said, abruptly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have been a better friend to my sister than I. You shall witness my
+      late reparation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The letter was as follows:&mdash;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      CEDARVILLE, JAN 13, 18&mdash;. MY DEAR SISTER:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I hope you will forgive me for my long neglect. It is not fitting that
+      while I am possessed of abundant means you should longer remain the tenant
+      of an almshouse. I send you by the bearer of this note, Paul Prescott,
+      who, I understand, is a friend of yours, the sum of three hundred dollars.
+      The same sum will be sent you annually. I hope it will be sufficient to
+      maintain you comfortably. I shall endeavor to call upon you soon, and
+      meanwhile remain, Your affectionate brother,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      EZEKIEL CONANT.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul read this letter with grateful joy. It seemed almost to good to be
+      true. Aunt Lucy would be released from the petty tyranny of Mrs. Mudge's
+      household, and perhaps&mdash;he felt almost sure Aunt Hester would be
+      willing to receive her as a boarder, thus insuring her a peaceful and
+      happy home in her declining years.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, sir,&rdquo; said he, seizing 'Squire Conant's hand, &ldquo;you cannot tell how
+      happy you have made me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is what I ought to have done before. Here is the money referred to in
+      the letter,&mdash;three hundred dollars,&mdash;mind you don't lose it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will take every care, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may tell my sister that I shall be happy to have her write me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul left 'Squire Conant's house, feeling that he had great cause for joy.
+      The 'Squire's refusal to receive more than half the debt, left him master
+      of over three hundred dollars. But I am not sure whether he did not
+      rejoice even more over the good fortune which had come to Aunt Lucy Lee,
+      whose kindness to him, in his unfriended boyhood, he would ever hold in
+      grateful remembrance. He enjoyed in anticipation the joy which he knew
+      Aunt Lucy would feel when the change in her fortunes was communicated to
+      her. He knew also how great would be the chagrin of Mr. and Mrs. Mudge,
+      when they found that the meek old lady whom they hated was about to be
+      rescued from their clutches. On the whole, Paul felt that this was the
+      happiest day of his life. It was a satisfaction to feel that the good
+      fortune of his early friend was all due to his own intercession.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was able to take the cars to a point four miles distant from Wrenville.
+      On getting out on the platform he inquired whether there was a livery
+      stable near by. He was directed to one but a few rods distant. Entering he
+      asked, &ldquo;Can you let me have a horse and chaise to go to Wrenville?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; said the groom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me have the best horse in the stable,&rdquo; said Paul, &ldquo;and charge me
+      accordingly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; said the groom, respectfully, judging from Paul's dress and
+      tone that he was a young gentleman of fortune.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A spirited animal was brought out, and Paul was soon seated in the chaise
+      driving along the Wrenville road. Paul's city friends would hardly have
+      recognized their economical acquaintance in the well-dressed young man who
+      now sat behind a fast horse, putting him through his best paces. It might
+      have been a weakness in Paul, but he remembered the manner in which he
+      left Wrenville, an unfriended boy, compelled to fly from persecution under
+      the cover of darkness, and he felt a certain pride in showing the Mudges
+      that his circumstances were now entirely changed. It was over this very
+      road that he had walked with his little bundle, in the early morning, six
+      years before. It seemed to him almost like a dream.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At length he reached Wrenville. Though he had not been there for six
+      years, he recognized the places that had once been familiar to him. But
+      everything seemed to have dwindled. Accustomed to large city warehouses,
+      the houses in the village seemed very diminutive. Even 'Squire Benjamin
+      Newcome's house, which he had once regarded as a stately mansion, now
+      looked like a very ordinary dwelling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he rode up the main street of the village, many eyes were fixed upon
+      him and his carriage, but no one thought of recognizing, in the
+      well-dressed youth, the boy who had run away from the Wrenville Poorhouse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXXV.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_CONC" id="link2H_CONC">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CONCLUSION.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      At the very moment that Paul was driving through the village street, Mr.
+      Nicholas Mudge entered the Poorhouse in high spirits. Certainly
+      ill-fortune must have befallen some one to make the good man so
+      exhilarant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To explain, Mr. Mudge had just been to the village store to purchase some
+      groceries. One of his parcels was tied up in a stray leaf of a recent New
+      York Daily, in which he discovered an item which he felt sure would make
+      Aunt Lucy unhappy. He communicated it to Mrs. Mudge, who highly approved
+      his design. She called the old lady from the common room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here, Aunt Lucy,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;is something that will interest you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Aunt Lucy came in, wondering a little at such an unusual mark of
+      attention.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Mudge immediately commenced reading with malicious emphasis a
+      paragraph concerning a certain Paul Prescott, who had been arrested for
+      thieving, and sentenced to the House of Reformation for a term of months.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There,&rdquo; said Mrs. Mudge, triumphantly, &ldquo;what do you say to your favorite
+      now? Turned out well, hasn't he? Didn't I always say so? I always knew
+      that boy was bad at heart, and that he'd come to a bad end.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't believe it's the same boy,&rdquo; declared Aunt Lucy, who was
+      nevertheless unpleasantly affected by the paragraph. She thought it
+      possible that Paul might have yielded to a powerful temptation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps you think I've been making it up. If you don't believe it look at
+      the paper for yourself,&rdquo; thrusting it into Aunt Lucy's hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the old lady. &ldquo;I see that the name is the same; but, for all
+      that, there is a mistake somewhere. I do not believe it is the same boy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't? Just as if there would be more than one boy of that name.
+      There may be other Prescotts, but there isn't but one Paul Prescott, take
+      my word for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If it is he,&rdquo; said Aunt Lucy, indignantly, &ldquo;is it Christianlike to
+      rejoice over the poor boy's misfortune?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Misfortune!&rdquo; retorted Mrs. Mudge with a sneer; &ldquo;you call it a misfortune
+      to steal, then! I call it a crime.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's often misfortune that drives people to it, though,&rdquo; continued the
+      old lady, looking keenly at Mrs. Mudge. &ldquo;I have known cases where they
+      didn't have that excuse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Mudge colored.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go back to your room,&rdquo; said she, sharply; &ldquo;and don't stay here accusing
+      me and Mr. Mudge of unchristian conduct. You're the most troublesome
+      pauper we have on our hands; and I do wish the town would provide for you
+      somewhere else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So do I,&rdquo; sighed the old lady to herself, though she did not think fit to
+      give audible voice to her thoughts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was at this moment that Paul halted his chaise at the gate, and lightly
+      jumping out, fastened his horse to a tree, and walked up to the front
+      door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who can it be?&rdquo; thought Mrs. Mudge, hastily adjusting her cap, and taking
+      off her apron.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know, I'm sure,&rdquo; said Mr. Mudge, unsuspiciously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I declare! I look like a fright.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No worse than usual,&rdquo; said her husband, gallantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By this time Paul had knocked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-morning, sir,&rdquo; said Mrs. Mudge, deferentially, her respect excited
+      by Paul's dress and handsome chaise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is Mrs. Lee in?&rdquo; inquired Paul, not caring to declare himself, yet, to
+      his old enemy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Mrs. Mudge, obsequiously, though not overpleased to find that
+      this was Aunt Lucy's visitor; &ldquo;would you like to see her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What can he want of the old lady?&rdquo; thought Mrs. Mudge, as she went to
+      summon her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A visitor for me?&rdquo; asked Aunt Lucy, looking at Mrs. Mudge somewhat
+      suspiciously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; and as he's come in a carriage, you'd better slick up a little; put
+      on a clean cap or something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Aunt Lucy was soon ready.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked wonderingly at Paul, not recognizing him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are not very good at remembering your old friends,&rdquo; said Paul, with a
+      smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What!&rdquo; exclaimed Aunt Lucy, her face lighting up with joy; &ldquo;are you
+      little Paul?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not very little, now,&rdquo; said our hero, laughing; &ldquo;but I'm the same Paul
+      you used to know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Mudge, who through the half open door had heard this revelation, was
+      overwhelmed with astonishment and confusion. She hurried to her husband.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wonders will never cease!&rdquo; she exclaimed, holding up both hands. &ldquo;If that
+      doesn't turn out to be Paul Prescott. Of course he's up in the world, or
+      he wouldn't dress so well, and ride in such a handsome carriage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't say so!&rdquo; returned Mr. Mudge, who looked as if he had heard of a
+      heavy misfortune.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I do; I heard him say so with his own lips. It's a pity you showed
+      that paragraph to Aunt Lucy, this morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That you showed, you mean,&rdquo; retorted her husband.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I don't. You know it was you that did it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush; they'll hear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile the two friends were conversing together happily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm so glad you're doing so well, Paul,&rdquo; said Aunt Lucy. &ldquo;It was a lucky
+      day when you left the Poorhouse behind you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Aunt Lucy, and to-day is a lucky day for you. There's room for two
+      in that chaise, and I'm going to take you away with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should enjoy a ride, Paul. It's a long time since I have taken one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't understand me. You're going away not to return.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old lady smiled sadly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, Paul. I can't consent to become a burden upon your generosity.
+      You can't afford it, and it will not be right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O,&rdquo; said Paul, smiling, &ldquo;you give me credit for too much. I mean that you
+      shall pay your board.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you know I have no money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I don't. I don't consider that a lady is penniless, who has an income
+      of three hundred dollars a year.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't understand you, Paul.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, perhaps you will understand this,&rdquo; said our hero, enjoying the old
+      lady's astonishment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He drew from his pocket a roll of bills, and passed them to Aunt Lucy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old lady looked so bewildered, that he lost no time in explaining the
+      matter to her. Then, indeed, Aunt Lucy was happy; not only because she had
+      become suddenly independent, but, because after years of coldness and
+      estrangement, her brother had at last become reconciled to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, Aunt Lucy,&rdquo; resumed Paul, &ldquo;I'll tell you what my plans are. You
+      shall get into the chaise with me, and go at once to New York. I think
+      Aunt Hester will be willing to receive you as a boarder; if not, I will
+      find you a pleasant place near by. Will that suit you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will make me very happy; but I cannot realize it. It seems like a
+      dream.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this moment Mrs. Mudge entered the room, and, after a moment's
+      scrutiny, pretended to recognize Paul. Her husband followed close behind
+      her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can I believe my eyes?&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;Is this indeed Paul Prescott? I
+      am very glad to see you back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only a visit, Mrs. Mudge,&rdquo; said Paul, smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'll stop to dinner, I hope?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Paul thought of the soup and dry bread which he used to find so
+      uninviting, and said that he should not have time to do so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We've thought of you often,&rdquo; said Mr. Mudge, writhing his harsh features
+      into a smile. &ldquo;There's scarcely a day that we haven't spoken of you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ought to feel grateful for your remembrance,&rdquo; said Paul, his eyes
+      twinkling with mirth. &ldquo;But I don't think, Mr. Mudge, you always thought so
+      much of me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Mudge coughed in some embarrassment, and not thinking of anything in
+      particular to say, said nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am going to take from you another of your boarders,&rdquo; said Paul. &ldquo;Can
+      you spare Aunt Lucy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For how long?&rdquo; asked Mrs. Mudge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For all the time. She has just come into possession of a little property,&mdash;several
+      hundred dollars a year,&mdash;and I have persuaded her to go to New York
+      to board.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is this true?&rdquo; exclaimed Mrs. Mudge in astonishment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the old lady, &ldquo;God has been bountiful to me when I least
+      expected it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can I be of any service in assisting you to pack up, Mrs. Lee?&rdquo; asked
+      Mrs. Mudge, with new-born politeness. She felt that as a lady of property,
+      Aunt Lucy was entitled to much greater respect and deference than before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, Mrs. Mudge,&rdquo; said Paul, answering for her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She won't have occasion for anything in this house. She will get a supply
+      of new things when she gets to New York.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old lady looked very happy, and Mrs. Mudge, in spite of her outward
+      deference, felt thoroughly provoked at her good fortune.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I will not dwell upon the journey to New York. Aunt Lucy, though somewhat
+      fatigued, bore it much better than she had anticipated. Mr. and Mrs.
+      Cameron entered very heartily into Paul's plans, and readily agreed to
+      receive Aunt Lucy as an inmate of their happy and united household. The
+      old lady felt it to be a happy and blessed change from the Poorhouse,
+      where scanty food and poor accommodations had been made harder to bear by
+      the ill temper of Mr. and Mrs. Mudge, to a home whose atmosphere was peace
+      and kindness.
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      And now, dear reader, it behooves us to draw together the different
+      threads of our story, and bring all to a satisfactory end.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. and Mrs. Mudge are no longer in charge of the Wrenville Poorhouse.
+      After Aunt Lucy's departure, Mrs. Mudge became so morose and despotic,
+      that her rule became intolerable. Loud complaints came to the ears of
+      'Squire Newcome, Chairman of the Overseers of the Poor. One fine morning
+      he was compelled to ride over and give the interesting couple warning to
+      leave immediately. Mr. Mudge undertook the charge of a farm, but his
+      habits of intoxication increased upon him to such an extent, that he was
+      found dead one winter night, in a snow-drift, between his own house and
+      the tavern. Mrs. Mudge was not extravagant in her expressions of grief,
+      not having a very strong affection for her husband. At last accounts, she
+      was keeping a boarding-house in a manufacturing town. Some time since, her
+      boarders held an indignation meeting, and threatened to leave in a body
+      unless she improved her fare,&mdash;a course to which she was obliged to
+      submit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      George Dawkins, unable to obtain a recommendation from Mr. Danforth, did
+      not succeed in securing another place in New York. He finally prevailed
+      upon his father to advance him a sum of money, with which he went to
+      California. Let us hope that he may &ldquo;turn over a new leaf&rdquo; there, and
+      establish a better reputation than he did in New York.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Stubbs is still in the tin business. He is as happy as the day is
+      long, and so are his wife and children. Once a year he comes to New York
+      and pays Paul a visit. This supplies him with something to talk about for
+      the rest of the year. He is frugal in his expenses, and is able to lay up
+      a couple of hundred dollars every year, which he confides to Paul, in
+      whose financial skill he has the utmost confidence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I am sure my boy readers would not forgive me for omitting to tell them
+      something more about Ben Newcome. Although his mirthful spirit sometimes
+      led him into mischief, he was good-hearted, and I have known him do many
+      an act of kindness, even at considerable trouble to himself. It will be
+      remembered that in consequence of his night adventure, during which he
+      personated a ghost, much to the terror of Mr. Mudge his father determined
+      to send him to a military school. This proved to be a wise arrangement.
+      The discipline was such as Ben needed, and he soon distinguished himself
+      by his excellence in the military drill. Soon after he graduated, the
+      Rebellion broke out, and Ben was at once, in spite of his youth, elected
+      Captain of the Wrenville company. At the battle of Antietam he acquitted
+      himself with so much credit that he was promoted to a major. He was again
+      promoted, and when Richmond was evacuated, he was one of the first
+      officers to enter the streets of the Rebel capital, a colonel in command
+      of his regiment. I have heard on high authority, that he is considered one
+      of the best officers in the service.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. and Mrs. Cameron are still living. They are happy in the success and
+      increasing prosperity of Paul, whom they regard as a son. Between them and
+      Aunt Lucy he would stand a very fair chance of being spoiled, if his own
+      good sense and good judgment were not sufficient to save him from such a
+      misfortune. Paul is now admitted to a small interest in the firm, which
+      entitles him to a share in the profits. As Danforth and Co. have done a
+      very extensive business of late years, this interest brings him in a very
+      handsome income. There is only one cause of difference between him and the
+      sexton. He insists that Uncle Hugh, who is getting infirm, should resign
+      his office, as he is abundantly able to support the whole family. But the
+      good sexton loves his duties, and will continue to discharge them as long
+      as he is able.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And now we must bid farewell to Paul. He has battled bravely with the
+      difficulties and discouragements that beset him in early life, he has been
+      faithful to the charge which he voluntarily assumed, and his father's
+      memory is free from reproach. He often wishes that his father could have
+      lived to witness his prosperity? but God has decreed it otherwise. Happy
+      in the love of friends, and in the enjoyment of all that can make life
+      desirable, so far as external circumstances have that power, let us all
+      wish him God speed!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+
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+</pre>
+  </body>
+</html>
diff --git a/293.txt b/293.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..98cee77
--- /dev/null
+++ b/293.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,8971 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Paul Prescott's Charge, by Horatio Alger
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Paul Prescott's Charge
+
+Author: Horatio Alger
+
+Release Date: March 14, 2006 [EBook #293]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAUL PRESCOTT'S CHARGE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer and David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+PAUL PRESCOTT'S CHARGE.
+
+By Horatio Alger, Jr.
+
+
+
+Alger Series For Boys. {About 50 Titles} Uniform With This Volume.
+
+
+     TO
+     The Boys
+     Whose Memory Goes Back With Me
+     To The Boarding School
+     At Potowome
+     This Volume Is Affectionately Dedicated
+     By
+     The Author.
+
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+"PAUL PRESCOTT'S CHARGE" is presented to the public as the second volume
+of the Campaign Series. Though wholly unlike the first volume, it is
+written in furtherance of the same main idea, that every boy's life is
+a campaign, more or less difficult, in which success depends upon
+integrity and a steadfast adherence to duty.
+
+How Paul Prescott gained strength by battling with adverse
+circumstances, and, under all discouragements, kept steadily before him
+the charge which he received from his dying father, is fully told; and
+the author will be glad if the record shall prove an incentive and an
+encouragement to those boys who may have a similar campaign before them.
+
+
+
+
+PAUL PRESCOTT'S CHARGE.
+
+
+
+
+I.
+
+SQUIRE NEWCOME.
+
+
+"HANNAH!"
+
+The speaker was a tall, pompous-looking man, whose age appeared to verge
+close upon fifty. He was sitting bolt upright in a high-backed chair,
+and looked as if it would be quite impossible to deviate from his
+position of unbending rigidity.
+
+Squire Benjamin Newcome, as he was called, in the right of his position
+as Justice of the Peace, Chairman of the Selectmen, and wealthiest
+resident of Wrenville, was a man of rule and measure. He was measured
+in his walk, measured in his utterance, and measured in all his
+transactions. He might be called a dignified machine. He had a very
+exalted conception of his own position, and the respect which he felt to
+be his due, not only from his own household, but from all who approached
+him. If the President of the United States had called upon him, Squire
+Newcome would very probably have felt that he himself was the party who
+conferred distinction, and not received it.
+
+Squire Newcome was a widower. His wife, who was as different from
+himself as could well be conceived, did not live long after marriage.
+She was chilled to death, as it was thought, by the dignified iceberg
+of whose establishment she had become a part. She had left, however, a
+child, who had now grown to be a boy of twelve. This boy was a thorn
+in the side of his father, who had endeavored in vain to mould him
+according to his idea of propriety. But Ben was gifted with a spirit of
+fun, sometimes running into mischief, which was constantly bursting out
+in new directions, in spite of his father's numerous and rather prosy
+lectures.
+
+"Han-nah!" again called Squire Newcome, separating the two syllables by
+a pause of deliberation, and strongly accenting the last syllable,--a
+habit of his with all proper names.
+
+Hannah was the Irish servant of all work, who was just then engaged in
+mixing up bread in the room adjoining, which was the kitchen.
+
+Feeling a natural reluctance to appear before her employer with her
+hands covered with dough, she hastily washed them. All this, however,
+took time, and before she responded to the first summons, the second
+"Han-nah!" delivered with a little sharp emphasis, had been uttered.
+
+At length she appeared at the door of the sitting-room.
+
+"Han-nah!" said Squire Newcome, fixing his cold gray eye upon her, "when
+you hear my voice a calling you, it is your duty to answer the summons
+IMMEJIATELY."
+
+I have endeavored to represent the Squire's pronunciation of the last
+word.
+
+"So I would have come IMMEJOUSLY," said Hannah, displaying a most
+reprehensible ignorance, "but me hands were all covered with flour."
+
+"That makes no difference," interrupted the Squire. "Flour is an
+accidental circumstance."
+
+"What's that?" thought Hannah, opening her eyes in amazement.
+
+"And should not be allowed to interpose an obstacle to an IMMEJIATE
+answer to my summons."
+
+"Sir," said Hannah, who guessed at the meaning though she did not
+understand the words, "you wouldn't have me dirty the door-handle with
+me doughy hands?"
+
+"That could easily be remedied by ablution."
+
+"There ain't any ablution in the house," said the mystified Hannah.
+
+"I mean," Squire Newcome condescended to explain, "the application of
+water--in short, washing."
+
+"Shure," said Hannah, as light broke in upon her mind, "I never knew
+that was what they called it before."
+
+"Is Ben-ja-min at home?"
+
+"Yes, sir. He was out playin' in the yard a minute ago. I guess you can
+see him from the winder."
+
+So saying she stepped forward, and looking out, all at once gave a
+shrill scream, and rushed from the room, leaving her employer in his
+bolt-upright attitude gazing after her with as much astonishment as he
+was capable of.
+
+The cause of her sudden exit was revealed on looking out of the window.
+
+Master Benjamin, or Ben, as he was called everywhere except in his
+own family, had got possession of the black kitten, and appeared to be
+submerging her in the hogshead of rainwater.
+
+"O, you wicked, cruel boy, to drown poor Kitty!" exclaimed the indignant
+Hannah, rushing into the yard and endeavoring to snatch her feline
+favorite--an attempt which Ben stoutly resisted.
+
+Doubtless the poor kitten would have fared badly between the two, had
+not the window opened, and the deliberate voice of his father, called
+out in tones which Ben saw fit to heed.
+
+"What?"
+
+"Come into my presence immejiately, and learn to answer me with more
+respect."
+
+Ben came in looking half defiant.
+
+His father, whose perpendicularity made him look like a sitting
+grenadier, commenced the examination thus:--
+
+"I wish you to inform me what you was a doing of when I spoke to you."
+
+It will be observed that the Squire's dignified utterances were
+sometimes a little at variance with the rule of the best modern
+grammarians.
+
+"I was trying to prevent Hannah from taking the kitten," said Ben.
+
+"What was you a doing of before Hannah went out?"
+
+"Playing with Kitty."
+
+"Why were you standing near the hogshead, Benjamin?"
+
+"Why," said Ben, ingenuously, "the hogshead happened to be near me--that
+was all."
+
+"Were you not trying to drown the kitten?"
+
+"O, I wouldn't drown her for anything," said Ben with an injured
+expression, mentally adding, "short of a three-cent piece."
+
+"Then, to repeat my interrogatory, what was you a doing of with the
+kitten in the hogshead?"
+
+"I was teaching her to swim," said Ben, looking out of the corner of
+his eye at his father, to see what impression this explanation made upon
+him.
+
+"And what advantageous result do you think would be brought about by
+teaching of the kitten to swim, Benjamin?" persisted his father.
+
+"Advantageous result!" repeated Ben, demurely, pretending not to
+understand.
+
+"Certingly."
+
+"What does that mean?"
+
+"Do you not study your dictionary at school, Benjamin?"
+
+"Yes, but I don't like it much."
+
+"You are very much in error. You will never learn to employ your tongue
+with elegance and precision, unless you engage in this beneficial
+study."
+
+"I can use my tongue well enough, without studying grammar," said Ben.
+He proceeded to illustrate the truth of this assertion by twisting his
+tongue about in a comical manner.
+
+"Tongue," exclaimed his father, "is but another name for language I mean
+your native language."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+Ben was about to leave the room to avoid further questions of an
+embarrassing nature, when his father interrupted his exit by saying--
+
+"Stay, Benjamin, do not withdraw till I have made all the inquiries
+which I intend."
+
+The boy unwillingly returned.
+
+"You have not answered my question."
+
+"I've forgotten what it was."
+
+"What good would it do?" asked the Squire, simplifying his speech to
+reach Ben's comprehension, "what good would it do to teach the kitten to
+swim?"
+
+"O, I thought," said Ben, hesitating, "that some time or other she might
+happen to fall into the water, and might not be able to get out unless
+she knew how."
+
+"I think," said his father with an unusual display of sagacity, "that
+she will be in much greater hazard of drowning while learning to swim
+under your direction than by any other chance likely to befall her."
+
+"Shouldn't wonder," was Ben's mental comment, "Pretty cute for you,
+dad."
+
+Fortunately, Ben did not express his thoughts aloud. They would have
+implied such an utter lack of respect that the Squire would have been
+quite overwhelmed by the reflection that his impressive manners had
+produced no greater effect on one who had so excellent a chance of being
+impressed by them.
+
+"Benjamin," concluded his father, "I have an errand for you to execute.
+You may go to Mr. Prescott's and see if he is yet living. I hear that he
+is a lying on the brink of the grave."
+
+An expression of sadness stole over the usually merry face of Ben, as he
+started on his errand.
+
+"Poor Paul!" he thought, "what will he do when his father dies? He's
+such a capital fellow, too. I just wish I had a wagon load of money, I
+do, and I'd give him half. That's so!"
+
+
+
+
+II.
+
+PAUL PRESCOTT'S HOME.
+
+
+We will precede Ben on his visit to the house of Mr. Prescott.
+
+It was an old weather-beaten house, of one story, about half a mile
+distant from 'Squire Newcome's residence. The Prescott family had lived
+here for five years, or ever since they had removed to Wrenville. Until
+within a year they had lived comfortably, when two blows came in quick
+succession. The first was the death of Mrs. Prescott, an excellent
+woman, whose loss was deeply felt by her husband and son. Soon
+afterwards Mr. Prescott, a carpenter by trade, while at work upon the
+roof of a high building, fell off, and not only broke his leg badly, but
+suffered some internal injury of a still more serious nature. He had
+not been able to do a stroke of work since. After some months it became
+evident that he would never recover. A year had now passed. During
+this time his expenses had swallowed up the small amount which he had
+succeeded in laying up previous to his sickness. It was clear that at
+his death there would be nothing left. At thirteen years of age Paul
+would have to begin the world without a penny.
+
+Mr. Prescott lay upon a bed in a small bedroom adjoining the kitchen.
+Paul, a thoughtful-looking boy sat beside it, ready to answer his call.
+
+There had been silence for some time, when Mr. Prescott called feebly--
+
+"Paul!"
+
+"I am here, father," said Paul.
+
+"I am almost gone, Paul, I don't think I shall last through the day."
+
+"O, father," said Paul, sorrowfully, "Don't leave me."
+
+"That is the only grief I have in dying--I must leave you to struggle
+for yourself, Paul. I shall be able to leave you absolutely nothing."
+
+"Don't think of that, father. I am young and strong--I can earn my
+living in some way."
+
+"I hoped to live long enough to give you an education. I wanted you to
+have a fairer start in the world than I had."
+
+"Never mind, father," said Paul, soothingly, "Don't be uneasy about me.
+God will provide for me."
+
+Again there was a silence, broken only by the difficult breathing of the
+sick man.
+
+He spoke again.
+
+"There is one thing, Paul, that I want to tell you before I die."
+
+Paul drew closer to the bedside.
+
+"It is something which has troubled me as I lay here. I shall feel
+easier for speaking of it. You remember that we lived at Cedarville
+before we came here."
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+"About two years before we left there, a promising speculation was
+brought to my notice. An agent of a Lake Superior mine visited our
+village and represented the mine in so favorable a light that many of
+my neighbors bought shares, fully expecting to double their money in a
+year. Among the rest I was attacked with the fever of speculation. I had
+always been obliged to work hard for a moderate compensation, and had
+not been able to do much more than support my family. This it seemed to
+me, afforded an excellent opportunity of laying up a little something
+which might render me secure in the event of a sudden attack of
+sickness. I had but about two hundred dollars, however, and from so
+scanty an investment I could not, of course, expect a large return;
+accordingly I went to Squire Conant; you remember him, Paul?"
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+'I went to him and asked a loan of five hundred dollars. After some
+hesitation he agreed to lend it to me. He was fond of his money and not
+much given to lending, but it so happened that he had invested in the
+same speculation, and had a high opinion of it, so he felt pretty
+safe in advancing me the money. Well, this loan gave me seven hundred
+dollars, with which I purchased seven shares in the Lake Superior Grand
+Combination Mining Company. For some months afterwards, I felt like a
+rich man. I carefully put away my certificate of stock, looking upon
+it as the beginning of a competence. But at the end of six months the
+bubble burst--the stock proved to be utterly worthless,--Squire Conant
+lost five thousand dollars. I lost seven hundred, five hundred being
+borrowed money. The Squire's loss was much larger, but mine was the more
+serious, since I lost everything and was plunged into debt, while he had
+at least forty thousand dollars left.
+
+"Two days after the explosion, Squire Conant came into my shop and asked
+abruptly when I could pay him the amount I had borrowed. I told him that
+I could not fix a time. I said that I had been overwhelmed by a result
+so contrary to my anticipations, but I told him I would not rest till I
+had done something to satisfy his claim. He was always an unreasonable
+man, and reproached me bitterly for sinking his money in a useless
+speculation, as if I could foresee how it would end any better than he."
+
+"Have you ever been able to pay back any part of the five hundred
+dollars, father?"
+
+"I have paid the interest regularly, and a year ago, just before I met
+with my accident, I had laid up a hundred and fifty dollars which I had
+intended to pay the Squire, but when my sickness came I felt obliged to
+retain it to defray our expenses, being cut off from earning anything."
+
+"Then I suppose you have not been able to pay interest for the last
+year."
+
+"No."
+
+"Have you heard from the Squire lately?"
+
+"Yes, I had a letter only last week. You remember bringing me one
+postmarked Cedarville?"
+
+"Yes, I wondered at the time who it could be from."
+
+"You will find it on the mantelpiece. I should like to have you get it
+and read it."
+
+Paul readily found the letter. It was enclosed in a brown envelope,
+directed in a bold hand to "Mr. John Prescott, Wrenville."
+
+The letter was as follows:--
+
+
+CEDARVILLE, APRIL 15, 18--,
+
+MR. JOHN PRESCOTT:--
+
+SIR: I have been waiting impatiently to hear something about the five
+hundred dollars in which sum you are indebted to me, on account of a
+loan which I was fool enough to make you seven years since. I thought
+you an honest man, but I have found, to my cost, that I was mistaken.
+For the last year you have even failed to pay interest as stipulated
+between us. Your intention is evident. I quite understand that you have
+made up your mind to defraud me of what is rightfully mine. I don't know
+how you may regard this, but I consider it as bad as highway robbery. I
+do not hesitate to say that if you had your deserts you would be in the
+Penitentiary. Let me advise you, if you wish to avoid further trouble,
+to make no delay in paying a portion of this debt. Yours, etc. EZEKIEL
+CONANT.
+
+
+Paul's face flushed with indignation as he read this bitter and cruel
+letter.
+
+"Does Squire Conant know that you are sick, father?" he inquired.
+
+"Yes, I wrote him about my accident, telling him at the same time that
+I regretted it in part on account of the interruption which it must
+occasion in my payments."
+
+"And knowing this, he wrote such a letter as that," said Paul,
+indignantly, "what a hard, unfeeling wretch he must be!"
+
+"I suppose it is vexatious to him to be kept out of his money."
+
+"But he has plenty more. He would never miss it if he had given it to
+you outright."
+
+"That is not the way to look at it, Paul. The money is justly his, and
+it is a great sorrow to me that I must die without paying it."
+
+"Father," said Paul, after a pause, "will it be any relief to you, if I
+promise to pay it,--that is, if I am ever able?"
+
+Mr. Prescott's face brightened.
+
+"That was what I wanted to ask you, Paul. It will be a comfort to me to
+feel that there is some hope of the debt being paid at some future day."
+
+"Then don't let it trouble you any longer, father. The debt shall be
+mine, and I will pay it."
+
+Again a shadow passed over the sick man's face, "Poor boy," he said,
+"why should I burden your young life with such a load? You will have to
+struggle hard enough as it is. No, Paul, recall your promise. I don't
+want to purchase comfort at such a price."
+
+"No, father," said Paul sturdily, "it is too late now. I have made the
+promise and I mean to stick to it. Besides, it will give me something
+to live for. I am young--I may have a great many years before me. For
+thirteen years you have supported me. It is only right that I should
+make what return I can. I'll keep my promise, father."
+
+"May God help and prosper you, my boy," said Mr. Prescott, solemnly.
+"You've been a good son; I pray that you may grow up to be a good man.
+But, my dear, I feel tired. I think I will try to go to sleep."
+
+Paul smoothed the comforter, adjusting it carefully about his father's
+neck, and going to the door went out in search of some wood to place
+upon the fire. Their scanty stock of firewood was exhausted, and Paul
+was obliged to go into the woods near by, to obtain such loose fagots as
+he might find upon the ground.
+
+He was coming back with his load when his attention was drawn by a
+whistle. Looking up he discovered Ben Newcome approaching him.
+
+"How are you, Paul?"
+
+"Pretty well, Ben."
+
+"How precious lonesome you must be, mewed up in the house all the time."
+
+"Yes, it is lonesome, but I wouldn't mind that if I thought father would
+ever get any better."
+
+"How is he this morning?"
+
+"Pretty low; I expect he is asleep. He said he was tired just before I
+went out."
+
+"I brought over something for you," said Ben, tugging away at his
+pocket.
+
+Opening a paper he displayed a couple of apple turnovers fried brown.
+
+"I found 'em in the closet," he said.
+
+"Won't Hannah make a precious row when she finds 'em gone?"
+
+"Then I don't know as I ought to take them," said Paul, though, to tell
+the truth, they looked tempting to him.
+
+"O, nonsense," said Ben; "they don't belong to Hannah. She only likes to
+scold a little; it does her good."
+
+The two boys sat on the doorstep and talked while Paul ate the
+turnovers. Ben watched the process with much satisfaction.
+
+"Ain't they prime?" he said.
+
+"First rate," said Paul; "won't you have one?"
+
+"No," said Ben; "you see I thought while I was about it I might as well
+take four, so I ate two coming along."
+
+In about fifteen minutes Paul went into the house to look at his father.
+He was lying very quietly upon the bed. Paul drew near and looked at him
+more closely. There was something in the expression of his father's face
+which terrified him.
+
+Ben heard his sudden cry of dismay, and hurriedly entered.
+
+Paul pointed to the bed, and said briefly, "Father's dead!"
+
+Ben, who in spite of his mischievous propensities was gifted with a warm
+heart, sat down beside Paul, and passing his arm round his neck,
+gave him that silent sympathy which is always so grateful to the
+grief-stricken heart.
+
+
+
+
+
+III.
+
+PAUL'S BRILLIANT PROSPECTS.
+
+
+Two days later, the funeral of Mr. Prescott took place.
+
+Poor Paul! It seemed to him a dream of inexpressible sorrow. His father
+and mother both gone, he felt that he was indeed left alone in the
+world. No thought of the future had yet entered his mind. He was wholly
+occupied with his present sorrow. Desolate at heart he slipped away from
+the graveyard after the funeral ceremony was over, and took his way back
+again to the lonely dwelling which he had called home.
+
+As he was sitting in the corner, plunged in sorrowful thought, there was
+a scraping heard at the door, and a loud hem!
+
+Looking up, Paul saw entering the cottage the stiff form of Squire
+Benjamin Newcome, who, as has already been stated, was the owner.
+
+"Paul," said the Squire, with measured deliberation.
+
+"Do you mean me, sir?" asked Paul, vaguely conscious that his name had
+been called.
+
+"Did I not address you by your baptismal appellation?" demanded the
+Squire, who thought the boy's question superfluous.
+
+"Paul," pursued Squire Newcome, "have you thought of your future
+destination?"
+
+"No, sir," said Paul, "I suppose I shall live here."
+
+"That arrangement would not be consistent with propriety. I suppose you
+are aware that your deceased parent left little or no worldly goods."
+
+"I know he was poor."
+
+"Therefore it has been thought best that you should be placed in charge
+of a worthy man, who I see is now approaching the house. You will
+therefore accompany him without resistance. If you obey him and read the
+Bible regularly, you will--ahem!--you will some time or other see the
+advantage of it."
+
+With this consolatory remark Squire Newcome wheeled about and strode out
+of the house.
+
+Immediately afterwards there entered a rough-looking man arrayed in a
+farmer's blue frock.
+
+"You're to come with me, youngster," said Mr. Nicholas Mudge, for that
+was his name.
+
+"With you?" said Paul, recoiling instinctively.
+
+In fact there was nothing attractive in the appearance or manners of
+Mr. Mudge. He had a coarse hard face, while his head was surmounted by
+a shock of red hair, which to all appearance had suffered little
+interference from the comb for a time which the observer would scarcely
+venture to compute. There was such an utter absence of refinement about
+the man, that Paul, who had been accustomed to the gentle manners of his
+father, was repelled by the contrast which this man exhibited.
+
+"To be sure you're to go with me," said Mr. Mudge. "You did not
+calc'late you was a goin' to stay here by yourself, did you? We've got a
+better place for you than that. But the wagon's waitin' outside, so just
+be lively and bundle in, and I'll carry you to where you're a goin' to
+live."
+
+"Where's that?"
+
+"Wal, some folks call it the Poor House, but it ain't any the worse for
+that, I expect. Anyhow, them as has no money may feel themselves lucky
+to get so good a home. So jest be a movin', for I can't be a waitin'
+here all day."
+
+Paul quietly submitted himself to the guidance of Mr. Mudge. He was so
+occupied with the thought of his sad loss that he did not realize the
+change that was about to take place in his circumstances.
+
+About half a mile from the village in the bleakest and most desolate
+part of the town, stood the Poor House. It was a crazy old building of
+extreme antiquity, which, being no longer considered fit for an ordinary
+dwelling-house, had been selected as a suitable residence for the town's
+poor. It was bleak and comfortless to be sure, but on that very account
+had been purchased at a trifling expense, and that was, of course, a
+primary consideration. Connected with the house were some dozen acres of
+rough-looking land, plentifully overspread with stones, which might have
+filled with despair the most enterprising agriculturist. However, it had
+this recommendation at least, that it was quite in character with the
+buildings upon it, which in addition to the house already described,
+consisted of a barn of equal antiquity and a pig pen.
+
+This magnificent domain was under the superintendence of Mr. Nicholas
+Mudge, who in consideration of taking charge of the town paupers had
+the use of the farm and buildings, rent free, together with a stipulated
+weekly sum for each of the inmates.
+
+"Well, Paul," said Mr. Mudge, as they approached the house, in a tone
+which was meant to be encouraging, "this is goin' to be your home. How
+do you like it?"
+
+Thus addressed, Paul ventured a glance around him.
+
+"I don't know," said he, doubtfully; "it don't look very pleasant."
+
+"Don't look very pleasant!" repeated Mr. Mudge in a tone of mingled
+amazement and indignation. "Well, there's gratitude for you. After the
+town has been at the expense of providin' a nice, comfortable home for
+you, because you haven't got any of your own, you must turn up your nose
+at it."
+
+"I didn't mean to complain," said Paul, feeling very little interest in
+the matter.
+
+"Perhaps you expected to live in a marble palace," pursued Mr. Mudge, in
+an injured tone. "We don't have any marble palaces in this neighborhood,
+we don't."
+
+Paul disclaimed any such anticipation.
+
+Mr. Mudge deigned to accept Paul's apology, and as they had now reached
+the door, unceremoniously threw it open, and led the way into a room
+with floor unpainted, which, to judge from its appearance, was used as a
+kitchen.
+
+
+
+
+IV.
+
+LIFE IN A NEW PHASE.
+
+
+Everything was "at sixes and sevens," as the saying is, in the room Mr.
+Mudge and Paul had just entered. In the midst of the scene was a large
+stout woman, in a faded calico dress, and sleeves rolled up, working as
+if her life or the world's destiny depended upon it.
+
+It was evident from the first words of Mr. Mudge that this lady was his
+helpmeet.
+
+"Well, wife," he said, "I've brought you another boarder. You must try
+to make him as happy and contented as the rest of 'em are."
+
+From the tone of the speaker, the last words might be understood to be
+jocular.
+
+Mrs. Mudge, whose style of beauty was not improved by a decided squint,
+fixed a scrutinizing gaze upon Paul, and he quite naturally returned it.
+
+"Haven't you ever seen anybody before, boy? I guess you'll know me next
+time."
+
+"Shouldn't wonder if he did," chuckled Mr. Mudge.
+
+"I don't know where on earth we shall put him," remarked the lady.
+"We're full now."
+
+"Oh, put him anywhere. I suppose you won't be very particular about your
+accommodations?" said Mr. Mudge turning to Paul.
+
+Paul very innocently answered in the negative, thereby affording Mr.
+Mudge not a little amusement.
+
+"Well, that's lucky," he said, "because our best front chamber's
+occupied just now. We'd have got it ready for you if you'd only wrote a
+week ago to tell us you were coming. You can just stay round here," he
+said in a different tone as he was about leaving the room, "Mrs. Mudge
+will maybe want you to do something for her. You can sit down till she
+calls on you."
+
+It was washing day with Mrs. Mudge, and of course she was extremely
+busy. The water was to be brought from a well in the yard, and to this
+office Paul was at once delegated. It was no easy task, the full pails
+tugging most unmercifully at his arms. However, this was soon over, and
+Mrs. Mudge graciously gave him permission to go into the adjoining room,
+and make acquaintance with his fellow-boarders.
+
+There were nine of them in all, Paul, the newcomer making the tenth.
+They were all advanced in years, except one young woman, who was
+prevented by mental aberration from supporting herself outside the walls
+of the Institution.
+
+Of all present, Paul's attention was most strongly attracted towards one
+who appeared more neatly and scrupulously attired than any of the rest.
+
+Aunt Lucy Lee, or plain Aunt Lucy, for in her present abode she had
+small use for her last name, was a benevolent-looking old lady, who both
+in dress and manners was distinguished from her companions. She rose
+from her knitting, and kindly took Paul by the hand. Children are
+instinctive readers of character, and Paul, after one glance at her
+benevolent face, seated himself contentedly beside her.
+
+"I suppose," said the old lady, socially, "you've come to live with
+us. We must do all we can to make you comfortable. Your name is Paul
+Prescott, I think Mrs. Mudge said."
+
+"Yes, ma'am," answered Paul, watching the rapid movement of the old
+lady's fingers.
+
+"Mine is Aunt Lucy," she continued, "that is what everybody calls me.
+So now we know each other, and shall soon be good friends, I hope. I
+suppose you have hardly been here long enough to tell how you shall like
+it."
+
+Paul confessed that thus far he did not find it very pleasant.
+
+"No, I dare say not," said Aunt Lucy, "I can't say I think it looks very
+attractive myself. However, it isn't wholly the fault of Mr. and Mrs.
+Mudge. They can't afford to do much better, for the town allows them
+very little."
+
+Aunt Lucy's remarks were here interrupted by the apparition of the
+worthy landlady at the door.
+
+"Dinner's ready, folks," said that lady, with little ceremony, "and you
+must come out quick if you want any, for I'm drove with work, and can't
+be hindered long."
+
+The summons was obeyed with alacrity, and the company made all haste to
+the dining-room, or rather the kitchen, for it was here that the meals
+were eaten.
+
+In the center of the room was set a table without a cloth, a table-cloth
+being considered a luxury quite superfluous. Upon this were placed
+several bowls of thin, watery liquid, intended for soup, but which, like
+city milk, was diluted so as hardly to be distinguishable. Beside each
+bowl was a slice of bread.
+
+Such was the bill of fare.
+
+"Now, folks, the sooner you fall to the better," exclaimed the energetic
+Mrs. Mudge, who was one of those driving characters, who consider any
+time spent at the table beyond ten minutes as so much time wasted.
+
+The present company appeared to need no second invitation. Their
+scanty diet had the positive advantage of giving them a good appetite;
+otherwise the quality of their food might have daunted them.
+
+Paul took his place beside Aunt Lucy. Mechanically he did as the rest,
+carrying to his mouth a spoonful of the liquid. But his appetite was not
+sufficiently accustomed to Poor House regime to enable him to relish its
+standing dish, and he laid down his spoon with a disappointed look.
+
+He next attacked the crust of bread, but found it too dry to be
+palatable.
+
+"Please, ma'am," said he to Mrs. Mudge, "I should like some butter."
+
+Paul's companions dropped their spoons in astonishment at his daring,
+and Mrs. Mudge let fall a kettle she was removing from the fire, in
+sheer amazement.
+
+"What did you ask for?" she inquired, as if to make sure that her ears
+did not deceive her.
+
+"A little butter," repeated Paul, unconscious of the great presumption
+of which he had been guilty.
+
+"You want butter, do you?" repeated Mr. Mudge. "Perhaps you'd like a
+slice of beefsteak and a piece of plum-pudding too, wouldn't you?"
+
+"I should very much," said Paul, resolved to tell the truth, although he
+now began to perceive the sarcasm in his landlady's tone.
+
+"There isn't anything more you would like, is there?" inquired the lady,
+with mock politeness.
+
+"No, ma'am," returned Paul after a pause, "I believe not, to-day."
+
+"Very moderate, upon my word," exclaimed Mrs. Mudge, giving vent at
+length to her pentup indignation. "You'll be contented with butter and
+roast beef and plum-pudding! A mighty fine gentleman, to be sure. But
+you won't get them here, I'll be bound."
+
+"So will I," thought Aunt Lucy.
+
+"If you ain't satisfied with what I give you," pursued Mrs. Mudge,
+"you'd better go somewhere else. You can put up at some of the great
+hotels. Butter, forsooth!"
+
+Having thus given expression to her feelings, she left the room, and
+Paul was left to finish his dinner with the best appetite he could
+command. He was conscious that he had offended Mrs. Mudge, but the
+thoughts of his recent great sorrow swallowed up all minor annoyances,
+so that the words of his estimable landlady were forgotten almost as
+soon as they were uttered. He felt that he must henceforth look for far
+different treatment from that to which he had been accustomed during his
+father's lifetime.
+
+His thoughts were interrupted in a manner somewhat ludicrous, by the
+crazy girl who sat next to him coolly appropriating to herself his bowl
+of soup, having already disposed of her own.
+
+"Look," said Aunt Lucy, quickly, calling Paul's attention, "you are
+losing your dinner."
+
+"Never mind," said Paul, amused in spite of his sadness, "she is quite
+welcome to it if she likes it; I can't eat it."
+
+So the dinner began and ended. It was very brief and simple, occupying
+less than ten minutes, and comprising only one course--unless the soup
+was considered the first course, and the bread the second. Paul left
+the table as hungry as he came to it. Aunt Lucy's appetite had become
+accustomed to the Mudge diet, and she wisely ate what was set before
+her, knowing that there was no hope of anything better.
+
+About an hour after dinner Ben Newcome came to the door of the Poor
+House and inquired for Paul.
+
+Mrs. Mudge was in one of her crusty moods.
+
+"You can't see him," said she.
+
+"And why not?" said Ben, resolutely.
+
+"Because he's busy."
+
+"You'd better let me see him," said Ben, sturdily.
+
+"I should like to know what's going to happen if I don't," said Mrs.
+Mudge, with wrathful eyes, and arms akimbo.
+
+"I shall go home and report to my father," said Ben, coolly.
+
+"Who is your father?" asked Mrs. Mudge, for she did not recognize her
+visitor.
+
+"My father's name is Newcome--Squire Newcome, some call him."
+
+Now it so happened that Squire Newcome was Chairman of the Overseers of
+the Poor, and in that capacity might remove Mr. Mudge from office if he
+pleased. Accordingly Mrs. Mudge softened down at once, on learning that
+Ben was his son.
+
+"Oh," said she, "I didn't know who it was. I thought it might be some
+idle boy from the village who would only take Paul from his work, but if
+you have a message from your father----"
+
+This she said to ascertain whether he really had any message or not, but
+Ben, who had in fact come without his father's knowledge, only bowed,
+and said, in a patronizing manner, "I accept your apology, Mrs. Mudge.
+Will you have the goodness to send Paul out?"
+
+"Won't you step in?" asked Mrs. Mudge with unusual politeness.
+
+"No, I believe not."
+
+Paul was accordingly sent out.
+
+He was very glad to meet his schoolmate and playfellow, Ben, who by his
+gayety, spiced though it was with roguery, had made himself a general
+favorite in school.
+
+"I say, Paul," said Ben, "I'm sorry to find you in such a place."
+
+"It isn't very pleasant," said Paul, rather soberly.
+
+"And that woman--Mrs. Mudge--she looks as if she might be a regular
+spitfire, isn't she?"
+
+"Rather so."
+
+"I only wish the old gentleman--meaning of course, the Squire--would
+take you to live with me. I want a fellow to play with. But I say, Paul,
+go and get your hat, and we'll go out for a walk."
+
+"I don't know what Mrs. Mudge will say," said Paul, who had just come
+from turning the handle of a churn.
+
+"Just call Mrs. Mudge, and I'll manage it."
+
+Mrs. Mudge being summoned, made her appearance at the door.
+
+"I presume, ma'am," said Ben, confidently, "you will have no objection
+to Paul's taking a walk with me while I deliver the message I am
+entrusted with."
+
+"Certainly," said Mrs. Mudge, rather unwillingly, but not venturing to
+refuse.
+
+"It takes me to come it over the old lady," said Ben, when they were out
+of hearing.
+
+"Now, we'll go a fishing."
+
+
+
+
+V.
+
+A CRISIS.
+
+
+Before sunrise the next morning Paul was awakened by a rude shake from
+Mr. Mudge, with an intimation that he had better get up, as there was
+plenty of work before him.
+
+By the light of the lantern, for as yet it was too dark to dispense with
+it, Paul dressed himself. Awakened from a sound sleep, he hardly had
+time to collect his thoughts, and it was with a look of bewilderment
+that he surveyed the scene about him. As Mrs. Mudge had said, they were
+pretty full already, and accordingly a rude pallet had been spread for
+him in the attic, of which, with the exception of nocturnal marauders,
+he was the only occupant. Paul had not, to be sure, been used to very
+superior accommodations, and if the bed had not been quite so hard, he
+would have got along very well. As it was he was separated from slats
+only by a thin straw bed which did not improve matters much. It was
+therefore with a sense of weariness which slumber had not dissipated,
+that Paul arose at the summons of Mr. Mudge.
+
+When he reached the kitchen, he found that gentleman waiting for him.
+
+"Do you know how to milk?" was his first salutation.
+
+"I never learned," said Paul.
+
+"Then you'll have to, in double-quick time," was the reply, "for I don't
+relish getting up so early, and you can take it off my hands."
+
+The two proceeded to the barn, where Paul received his first lesson in
+this important branch of education.
+
+Mr. Mudge kept five cows. One might have thought he could have afforded
+a moderate supply of milk to his boarders, but all, with the exception
+of a single quart, was sold to the milkman who passed the door every
+morning.
+
+After breakfast, which was on the same economical plan with the dinner
+of the day previous, Paul was set to work planting potatoes, at which he
+was kept steadily employed till the dinner-hour.
+
+Poor Paul! his back ached dreadfully, for he had never before done any
+harder work than trifling services for his father. But the inexorable
+Mr. Mudge was in sight, and however much he wished, he did not dare to
+lay aside his hoe even for a moment.
+
+Twelve o'clock found him standing beside the dinner-table. He ate more
+heartily than before, for his forenoon's labor made even poorhouse fare
+palatable.
+
+Mrs. Mudge observed the change, and remarked in a satisfied tone. "Well,
+my fine gentleman, I see you are coming to your appetite. I thought you
+wouldn't hold out long."
+
+Paul, who had worn off something of his diffidence, could not help
+feeling indignant at this speech; unaccustomed to be addressed in this
+way, the taunt jarred upon his feelings, but he only bit his lip and
+preserved silence.
+
+Aunt Lucy, too, who had come to feel a strong interest in Paul, despite
+her natural mildness, could not resist the temptation of saying with
+some warmth, "what's the use of persecuting the child? He has sorrows
+enough of his own without your adding to them."
+
+Mrs. Mudge was not a little incensed at this remonstrance.
+
+"I should like to know, ma'am, who requested you to put in your oar!"
+she said with arms akimbo. "Anybody wouldn't think from your lofty airs
+that you lived in the poorhouse; I'll thank you to mind your own
+business in the future, and not meddle with what don't concern you."
+
+Aunt Lucy was wise enough to abstain from provoking further the wrath of
+her amiable landlady, and continued to eat her soup in silence. But Mrs.
+Mudge neer forgot this interference, nor the cause of it, and henceforth
+with the malignity of a narrow-minded and spiteful woman, did what she
+could to make Paul uncomfortable. Her fertile ingenuity always found
+some new taunt, or some new reproach, to assail him with. But Paul,
+though at first he felt indignant, learned at last to treat them as they
+deserved, with silent disdain. Assured of the sympathy of those around
+him, he did not allow his appetite to be spoiled by any remark which
+Mrs. Mudge might offer.
+
+This, of course, only provoked her the more, and she strove to have his
+daily tasks increased, in the amiable hope that his "proud spirit" might
+be tamed thereby.
+
+Mr. Mudge, who was somewhat under petticoat government, readily acceded
+to his wife's wishes, and henceforth Paul's strength was taxed to its
+utmost limit. He was required to be up with the first gray tint of dawn
+and attend to the cattle. From this time until night, except the brief
+time devoted to his meals, he was incessantly occupied. Aunt Lucy's
+society, his chief comfort, was thus taken from him; since, in order to
+rise early, he was obliged to go to bed as soon as possible after day's
+work was finished.
+
+The effects of such incessant labor without a sufficient supply of
+nourishing food, may easily be imagined. The dry bread and meagre soup
+which constituted the chief articles of diet in Mrs. Mudge's economical
+household, had but one recommendation,--they were effectual preventives
+of gluttony. It was reported that on one occasion a beggar, apparently
+famishing with hunger, not knowing the character of the house, made
+application at the door for food. In an unusual fit of generosity, Mrs.
+Mudge furnished him with a slice of bread and a bowl of soup, which,
+however, proved so far from tempting that the beggar, hungry as he was,
+left them almost untouched.
+
+One day, as Paul was working in the field at a little distance from
+Mr. Mudge, he became conscious of a peculiar feeling of giddiness which
+compelled him to cling to the hoe for support,--otherwise he must have
+fallen.
+
+"No laziness there," exclaimed Mr. Mudge, observing Paul's cessation
+from labor, "We can't support you in idleness."
+
+But the boy paid no regard to this admonition, and Mr. Mudge, somewhat
+surprised, advanced toward him to enforce the command.
+
+Even he was startled at the unusual paleness of Paul's face, and
+inquired in a less peremptory tone, "what's the matter?"
+
+"I feel sick," gasped Paul.
+
+Without another word, Mr. Mudge took Paul up in his arms and carried him
+into the house.
+
+"What's the matter, now?" asked his wife, meeting him at the door.
+
+"The boy feels a little sick, but I guess he'll get over it by-and
+by. Haven't you got a little soup that you can give him? I reckon he's
+faint, and that'll brighten him up."
+
+Paul evidently did not think so, for he motioned away a bowl of the
+delightful mixture, though it was proffered him by the fair hands of
+Mrs. Mudge. The lady was somewhat surprised, and said, roughly, "I
+shouldn't wonder if he was only trying to shirk."
+
+This was too much even for Mr. Mudge; "The boy's sick," said he, "that's
+plain enough; if he don't get better soon, I must send for the doctor,
+for work drives, and I can't spare him."
+
+"There's no more danger of his being sick than mine," said Mrs. Mudge,
+emphatically; "however, if you're fool enough to go for a doctor, that's
+none of my business. I've heard of feigning sickness before now, to
+get rid of work. As to his being pale, I've been as pale as that myself
+sometimes without your troubling yourself very much about me."
+
+"'Twon't be any expense to us," alleged Mr. Mudge, in a tone of
+justification, for he felt in some awe of his wife's temper, which was
+none of the mildest when a little roused, "'Twon't be any expense to us;
+the town has got to pay for it, and as long as it will get him ready for
+work sooner, we might as well take advantage of it."
+
+This consideration somewhat reconciled Mrs. Mudge to the step proposed,
+and as Paul, instead of getting better, grew rapidly worse, Mr. Mudge
+thought it expedient to go immediately for the village physician.
+Luckily Dr. Townsend was at home, and an hour afterwards found him
+standing beside the sick boy.
+
+"I don't know but you'll think it rather foolish, our sending for you,
+doctor," said Mrs. Mudge, "but Mudge would have it that the boy was sick
+and so he went for you."
+
+"And he did quite right," said Dr. Townsend, noticing the ghastly pallor
+of Paul's face. "He is a very sick boy, and if I had not been called I
+would not have answered for the consequences. How do you feel, my boy?"
+he inquired of Paul.
+
+"I feel very weak, and my head swims," was the reply.
+
+"How and when did this attack come on?" asked the doctor, turning to Mr.
+Mudge.
+
+"He was taken while hoeing in the field," was the reply.
+
+"Have you kept him at work much there lately?"
+
+"Well, yes, I've been drove by work, and he has worked there all day
+latterly."
+
+"At what time has he gone to work in the morning?"
+
+"He has got up to milk the cows about five o'clock. I used to do it, but
+since he has learned, I have indulged myself a little."
+
+"It would have been well for him if he had enjoyed the same privilege.
+It is my duty to speak plainly. The sickness of this boy lies at your
+door. He has never been accustomed to hard labor, and yet you have
+obliged him to rise earlier and work later than most men. No wonder he
+feels weak. Has he a good appetite?"
+
+"Well, rather middlin'," said Mrs. Mudge, "but it's mainly because he's
+too dainty to eat what's set before him. Why, only the first day he was
+here he turned up his nose at the bread and soup we had for dinner."
+
+"Is this a specimen of the soup?" asked Dr. Townsend, taking from the
+table the bowl which had been proffered to Paul and declined by him.
+
+Without ceremony he raised to his lips a spoonful of the soup and tasted
+it with a wry face.
+
+"Do you often have this soup on the table?" he asked abruptly.
+
+"We always have it once a day, and sometimes twice," returned Mrs.
+Mudge.
+
+"And you call the boy dainty because he don't relish such stuff as
+this?" said the doctor, with an indignation he did not attempt to
+conceal. "Why, I wouldn't be hired to take the contents of that bowl. It
+is as bad as any of my own medicines, and that's saying a good deal.
+How much nourishment do you suppose such a mixture would afford? And yet
+with little else to sustain him you have worked this boy like a beast of
+burden,--worse even, for they at least have abundance of GOOD food."
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Mudge both winced under this plain speaking, but they did
+not dare to give expression to their anger, for they knew well that Dr.
+Townsend was an influential man in town, and, by representing the affair
+in the proper quarter, might render their hold upon their present post
+a very precarious one. Mr. Mudge therefore contented himself with
+muttering that he guessed he worked as hard as anybody, and he didn't
+complain of his fare.
+
+"May I ask you, Mr. Mudge," said the doctor, fixing his penetrating eye
+full upon him, "whether you confine yourself to the food upon which you
+have kept this boy?"
+
+"Well," said Mr. Mudge, in some confusion, moving uneasily in his
+seat, "I can't say but now and then I eat something a little different."
+
+"Do you eat at the same table with the inmates of your house?"
+
+"Well, no," said the embarrassed Mr. Mudge.
+
+"Tell me plainly,--how often do you partake of this soup?"
+
+"I aint your patient," said the man, sullenly, "Why should you want to
+know what I eat?"
+
+"I have an object in view. Are you afraid to answer?"
+
+"I don't know as there's anything to be afraid of. The fact is, I aint
+partial to soup; it don't agree with me, and so I don't take it."
+
+"Did you ever consider that this might be the case with others as
+well as yourself?" inquired the doctor with a glance expressive of his
+contempt for Mr. Mudge's selfishness. Without waiting for a reply, Dr.
+Townsend ordered Paul to be put to bed immediately, after which he would
+leave some medicine for him to take.
+
+Here was another embarrassment for the worthy couple. They hardly knew
+where to put our hero. It would not do for them to carry him to his
+pallet in the attic, for they felt sure that this would lead to some
+more plain speaking on the part of Dr. Townsend. He was accordingly,
+though with some reluctance, placed in a small bedroom upstairs, which,
+being more comfortable than those appropriated to the paupers, had been
+reserved for a son at work in a neighboring town, on his occasional
+visits home.
+
+"Is there no one in the house who can sit in the chamber and attend to
+his occasional wants?" asked Dr. Townsend. "He will need to take his
+medicine at stated periods, and some one will be required to administer
+it."
+
+"There's Aunt Lucy Lee," said Mrs. Mudge, "she's taken a fancy to the
+boy, and I reckon she'll do as well as anybody."
+
+"No one better," returned the doctor, who well knew Aunt Lucy's kindness
+of disposition, and was satisfied that she would take all possible care
+of his patient.
+
+So it was arranged that Aunt Lucy should take her place at Paul's
+bedside as his nurse.
+
+Paul was sick for many days,--not dangerously so, but hard work and
+scanty fare had weakened him to such a degree that exhausted nature
+required time to recruit its wasted forces. But he was not unhappy or
+restless. Hour after hour he would lie patiently, and listen to the
+clicking of her knitting needles. Though not provided with luxurious
+food, Dr. Townsend had spoken with so much plainness that Mrs. Mudge
+felt compelled to modify her treatment, lest, through his influence, she
+with her husband, might lose their situation. This forced forbearance,
+however, was far from warming her heart towards its object. Mrs.
+Mudge was a hard, practical woman, and her heart was so encrusted with
+worldliness and self-interest that she might as well have been without
+one.
+
+One day, as Paul lay quietly gazing at Aunt Lucy's benevolent face,
+and mentally contrasting it with that of Mrs. Mudge, whose shrill voice
+could be heard form below, he was seized with a sudden desire to learn
+something of her past history.
+
+"How long have you been here, Aunt Lucy?" he inquired.
+
+She looked up from her knitting, and sighed as she answered, "A long and
+weary time to look back upon, Paul. I have been here ten years."
+
+"Ten years," repeated Paul, thoughtfully, "and I am thirteen. So you
+have been here nearly all my lifetime. Has Mr. Mudge been here all that
+time?"
+
+"Only the last two years. Before that we had Mrs. Perkins."
+
+"Did she treat you any better than Mrs. Mudge?"
+
+"Any better than Mrs. Mudge!" vociferated that lady, who had ascended
+the stairs without being heard by Aunt Lucy of Paul, and had thus
+caught the last sentence. "Any better than Mrs. Mudge!" she repeated,
+thoroughly provoked. "So you've been talking about me, you trollop, have
+you? I'll come up with you, you may depend upon that. That's to pay for
+my giving you tea Sunday night, is it? Perhaps you'll get some more.
+It's pretty well in paupers conspiring together because they aint
+treated like princes and princesses. Perhaps you'd like to got boarded
+with Queen Victoria."
+
+The old lady sat very quiet during this tirade. She had been the subject
+of similar invective before, and knew that it would do no good to oppose
+Mrs. Mudge in her present excited state.
+
+"I don't wonder you haven't anything to say," said the infuriated dame.
+"I should think you'd want to hide your face in shame, you trollop."
+
+Paul was not quite so patient as his attendant. Her kindness had
+produced such an impression on him, that Mrs. Mudge, by her taunts,
+stirred up his indignation.
+
+"She's no more of a trollop than you are," said he, with spirit.
+
+Mrs. Mudge whirled round at this unexpected attack, and shook her fist
+menacingly at Paul--
+
+"So, you've put in your oar, you little jackanapes," said she, "If
+you're well enough to be impudent you're well enough to go to work.
+You aint a goin' to lie here idle much longer, I can tell you. If
+you deceive Dr. Townsend, and make him believe you're sick, you can't
+deceive me. No doubt you feel mighty comfortable, lyin' here with
+nothing to do, while I'm a slavin' myself to death down stairs, waitin'
+upon you; (this was a slight exaggeration, as Aunt Lucy took the entire
+charge of Paul, including the preparation of his food;) but you'd better
+make the most of it, for you won't lie here much longer. You'll miss not
+bein' able to talk about me, won't you?"
+
+Mrs. Mudge paused a moment as if expecting an answer to her highly
+sarcastic question, but Paul felt that no advantage would be gained by
+saying more.. He was not naturally a quick-tempered buy, and had only
+been led to this little ebullition by the wanton attack by Mrs. Mudge.
+
+This lady, after standing a moment as if defying the twain to a further
+contest, went out, slamming the door violently after her.
+
+"You did wrong to provoke her, Paul," said Aunt Lucy, gravely.
+
+"How could I help it?" asked Paul, earnestly. "If she had only abused
+ME, I should not have cared so much, but when she spoke about you, who
+have been so kind to me, I could not be silent."
+
+"I thank you, Paul, for your kind feeling," said the old lady, gently,
+"but we must learn to bear and forbear. The best of us have our faults
+and failings."
+
+"What are yours, Aunt Lucy?"
+
+"O, a great many."
+
+"Such as what?"
+
+"I am afraid I am sometimes discontented with the station which God has
+assigned me."
+
+"I don't think you can be very much to blame for that. I should never
+learn to be contented here if I lived to the age of Methuselah."
+
+Paul lay quite still for an hour or more. During that time he formed a
+determination which will be announced in the next chapter.
+
+
+
+
+VI.
+
+PAUL'S DETERMINATION
+
+At the close of the last chapter it was stated that Paul had come to a
+determination.
+
+This was,--TO RUN AWAY.
+
+That he had good reason for this we have already seen.
+
+He was now improving rapidly, and only waited till he was well enough to
+put his design into execution.
+
+"Aunt Lucy," said he one day, "I've got something to tell you."
+
+The old lady looked up inquiringly.
+
+"It's something I've been thinking of a long time,--at least most of the
+time since I've been sick. It isn't pleasant for me to stay here, and
+I've pretty much made up my mind that I sha'n't."
+
+"Where will you go?" asked the old lady, dropping her work in surprise.
+
+"I don't know of any particular place, but I should be better off most
+anywhere than here."
+
+"But you are so young, Paul."
+
+"God will take care of me, Aunt Lucy,--mother used to tell me that.
+Besides, here I have no hope of learning anything or improving my
+condition. Then again, if I stay here, I can never do what father wished
+me to do."
+
+"What is that, Paul?"
+
+Paul told the story of his father's indebtedness to Squire Conant, and
+the cruel letter which the Squire had written.
+
+"I mean to pay that debt," he concluded firmly. "I won't let anybody say
+that my father kept them out of their money. There is no chance here;
+somewhere else I may find work and money."
+
+"It is a great undertaking for a boy like you, Paul," said Aunt Lucy,
+thoughtfully. "To whom is the money due?"
+
+"Squire Conant of Cedarville."
+
+Aunt Lucy seemed surprised and agitated by the mention of this name.
+
+"Paul," said she, "Squire Conant is my brother."
+
+"Your brother!" repeated he in great surprise. "Then why does he allow
+you to live here? He is rich enough to take care of you."
+
+"It is a long story," said the old lady, sadly. "All that you will be
+interested to know is that I married against the wishes of my family. My
+husband died and I was left destitute. My brother has never noticed me
+since."
+
+"It is a great shame," said Paul.
+
+"We won't judge him, Paul. Have you fixed upon any time to go?"
+
+"I shall wait a few days till I get stronger. Can you tell me how far it
+is to New York?"
+
+"O, a great distance; a hundred miles at least. You can't think of going
+so far as that?"
+
+"I think it would be the best plan," said Paul. "In a great city like
+New York there must be a great many things to do which I can't do here.
+I don't feel strong enough to work on a farm. Besides, I don't like it.
+O, it must be a fine thing to live in a great city. Then too," pursued
+Paul, his face lighting up with the hopeful confidence of youth, "I
+may become rich. If I do, Aunt Lucy, I will build a fine house, and you
+shall come and live with me."
+
+Aunt Lucy had seen more of life than Paul, and was less sanguine. The
+thought came to her that her life was already declining while his was
+but just begun, and in the course of nature, even if his bright dreams
+should be realized, she could hardly hope to live long enough to see it.
+But of this she said nothing. She would not for the world have dimmed
+the brightness of his anticipations by the expression of a single doubt.
+
+"I wish you all success, Paul, and I thank you for wishing me to share
+in your good fortune. God helps those who help themselves, and he will
+help you if you only deserve it. I shall miss you very much when you are
+gone. It will seem more lonely than ever."
+
+"If it were not for you, Aunt Lucy, I should not mind going at all, but
+I shall be sorry to leave you behind."
+
+"God will care for both of us, my dear boy. I shall hope to hear from
+you now and then, and if I learn that you are prosperous and happy, I
+shall be better contented with my own lot. But have you thought of all
+the labor and weariness that you will have to encounter? It is best to
+consider well all this, before entering upon such an undertaking."
+
+"I have thought of all that, and if there were any prospect of my being
+happy here, I might stay for the present. But you know how Mrs. Mudge
+has treated me, and how she feels towards me now."
+
+"I acknowledge, Paul, that it has proved a hard apprenticeship, and
+perhaps it might be made yet harder if you should stay longer. You must
+let me know when you are going, I shall want to bid you good-by."
+
+"No fear that I shall forget that, Aunt Lucy. Next to my mother you have
+been most kind to me, and I love you for it."
+
+Lightly pressing her lips to Paul's forehead Aunt Lucy left the room to
+conceal the emotion called forth by his approaching departure. Of all
+the inmates of the establishment she had felt most closely drawn to the
+orphan boy, whose loneliness and bereavement had appealed to her woman's
+heart. This feeling had been strengthened by the care she had been
+called to bestow upon him in his illness, for it is natural to love
+those whom we have benefited. But Aunt Lucy was the most unselfish of
+living creatures, and the idea of dissuading Paul from a course which he
+felt was right never occurred to her. She determined that she would
+do what she could to further his plans, now that he had decided to go.
+Accordingly she commenced knitting him a pair of stockings, knowing that
+this would prove a useful present. This came near being the means of
+discovering Paul's plan to Mrs. Mudge The latter, who notwithstanding
+her numerous duties, managed to see everything that was going on, had
+her attention directed to Aunt Lucy's work.
+
+"Have you finished the stockings that I set you to knitting for Mr.
+Mudge?" she asked.
+
+"No," said Aunt Lucy, in some confusion.
+
+"Then whose are those, I should like to know? Somebody of more
+importance than my husband, I suppose."
+
+"They are for Paul," returned the old lady, in some uneasiness.
+
+"Paul!" repeated Mrs. Mudge, in her haste putting a double quantity
+of salaeratus into the bread she was mixing; "Paul's are they? And who
+asked you to knit him a pair, I should like to be informed?"
+
+"No one."
+
+"Then what are you doing it for?"
+
+"I thought he might want them."
+
+"Mighty considerate, I declare. And I shouldn't be at all surprised
+if you were knitting them with the yarn I gave you for Mr. Mudge's
+stockings."
+
+"You are mistaken," said Aunt Lucy, shortly.
+
+"Oh, you're putting on your airs, are you? I'll tell you what, Madam,
+you'd better put those stockings away in double-quick time, and finish
+my husband's, or I'll throw them into the fire, and Paul Prescott may
+wait till he goes barefoot before he gets them."
+
+There was no alternative. Aunt Lucy was obliged to obey, at least while
+her persecutor was in the room. When alone for any length of time she
+took out Paul's stockings from under her apron, and worked on them till
+the approaching steps of Mrs. Mudge warned her to desist.
+
+*****
+
+
+Three days passed. The shadows of twilight were already upon the earth.
+The paupers were collected in the common room appropriated to their use.
+Aunt Lucy had suspended her work in consequence of the darkness, for
+in this economical household a lamp was considered a useless piece of
+extravagance. Paul crept quietly to her side, and whispered in tones
+audible to her alone, "I AM GOING TO-MORROW."
+
+"To-morrow! so soon?"
+
+"Yes," said Paul, "I am as ready now as I shall ever be. I wanted to
+tell you, because I thought maybe you might like to know that this is
+the last evening we shall spend together at present."
+
+"Do you go in the morning?"
+
+"Yes, Aunt Lucy, early in the morning. Mr. Mudge usually calls me at
+five; I must be gone an hour before that time. I suppose I must bid you
+good-by to-night."
+
+"Not to-night, Paul; I shall be up in the morning to see you go."
+
+"But if Mrs. Mudge finds it out she will abuse you."
+
+"I am used to that, Paul," said Aunt Lucy, with a sorrowful smile. "I
+have borne it many times, and I can again. But I can't lie quiet and let
+you go without one word of parting. You are quite determined to go?"
+
+"Quite, Aunt Lucy. I never could stay here. There is no pleasure in the
+present, and no hope for the future. I want to see something of life,"
+and Paul's boyish figure dilated with enthusiasm.
+
+"God grant that you do not see too much!" said Aunt Lucy, half to
+herself.
+
+"Is the world then, so very sad a place?" asked Paul.
+
+"Both joy and sorrow are mingled in the cup of human life," said Aunt
+Lucy, solemnly:
+
+"Which shall preponderate it is partly in our power to determine. He
+who follows the path of duty steadfastly, cannot be wholly miserable,
+whatever misfortunes may come upon him. He will be sustained by the
+conviction that his own errors have not brought them upon him."
+
+"I will try to do right," said Paul, placing his hand in that of his
+companion, "and if ever I am tempted to do wrong, I will think of you
+and of my mother, and that thought shall restrain me."
+
+"It's time to go bed, folks," proclaimed Mrs Mudge, appearing at the
+door. "I can't have you sitting up all night, as I've no doubt you'd
+like to do."
+
+It was only eight o'clock, but no one thought of interposing an
+objection. The word of Mrs. Mudge was law in her household, as even her
+husband was sometimes made aware.
+
+All quietly rose from their seats and repaired to bed. It was an
+affecting sight to watch the tottering gait of those on whose heads the
+snows of many winters had drifted heavily, as they meekly obeyed the
+behest of one whose coarse nature forbade her sympathizing with them in
+their clouded age, and many infirmities.
+
+"Come," said she, impatient of their slow movements, "move a little
+quicker, if it's perfectly convenient. Anybody'd think you'd been hard
+at work all day, as I have. You're about the laziest set I ever had
+anything to do with. I've got to be up early in the morning, and can't
+stay here dawdling."
+
+"She's got a sweet temper," said Paul, in a whisper, to Aunt Lucy.
+
+"Hush!" said the old lady. "She may hear you."
+
+"What's that you're whispering about?" said Mrs. Mudge, suspiciously.
+"Something you're ashamed to have heard, most likely."
+
+Paul thought it best to remain silent.
+
+"To-morrow morning at four!" he whispered to Aunt Lucy, as he pressed
+her hand in the darkness.
+
+
+
+
+VII.
+
+PAUL BEGINS HIS JOURNEY.
+
+
+Paul ascended the stairs to his hard pallet for the last time. For the
+last time! There is sadness in the thought, even when the future which
+lies before us glows with brighter colors than the past has ever worn.
+But to Paul, whose future was veiled in uncertainty, and who was about
+to part with the only friend who felt an interest in his welfare, this
+thought brought increased sorrow.
+
+He stood before the dirt-begrimed window through which alone the
+struggling sunbeams found an inlet into the gloomy little attic,
+and looked wistfully out upon the barren fields that surrounded the
+poorhouse. Where would he be on the morrow at that time? He did not
+know. He knew little or nothing of the great world without, yet his
+resolution did not for an instant falter. If it had, the thought of Mrs.
+Mudge would have been enough to remove all his hesitation.
+
+He threw himself on his hard bed, and a few minutes brought him that
+dreamless sleep which comes so easily to the young.
+
+Meanwhile Aunt Lucy, whose thoughts were also occupied with Paul's
+approaching departure, had taken from the pocket of her OTHER dress--for
+she had but two--something wrapped in a piece of brown paper. One by one
+she removed the many folds in which it was enveloped, and came at length
+to the contents.
+
+It was a coin.
+
+"Paul will need some money, poor boy," said she, softly to herself, "I
+will give him this. It will never do me any good, and it may be of some
+service to him."
+
+So saying she looked carefully at the coin in the moonlight.
+
+But what made her start, and utter a half exclamation?
+
+Instead of the gold eagle, the accumulation of many years, which she had
+been saving for some extraordinary occasion like the presents she held
+in her hand--a copper cent.
+
+"I have been robbed," she exclaimed indignantly in the suddenness of her
+surprise.
+
+"What's the matter now?" inquired Mrs Mudge, appearing at the door, "Why
+are you not in bed, Aunt Lucy Lee? How dare you disobey my orders?"
+
+"I have been robbed," exclaimed the old lady in unwonted excitement.
+
+"Of what, pray?" asked Mrs. Mudge, with a sneer.
+
+"I had a gold eagle wrapped up in that paper," returned Aunt Lucy,
+pointing to the fragments on the floor, "and now, to-night, when I come
+to open it, I find but this cent."
+
+"A likely story," retorted Mrs. Mudge, "very likely, indeed, that a
+common pauper should have a gold eagle. If you found a cent in the
+paper, most likely that's what you put there. You're growing old and
+forgetful, so don't get foolish and flighty. You'd better go to bed."
+
+"But I did have the gold, and it's been stolen," persisted Aunt Lucy,
+whose disappointment was the greater because she intended the money for
+Paul.
+
+"Again!" exclaimed Mrs. Mudge. "Will you never have done with this
+folly? Even if you did have the gold, which I don't for an instant
+believe, you couldn't keep it. A pauper has no right to hold property."
+
+"Then why did the one who stole the little I had leave me this?" said
+the old lady, scornfully, holding up the cent which had been substituted
+for the gold.
+
+"How should I know?" exclaimed Mrs. Mudge, wrathfully. "You talk as if
+you thought I had taken your trumpery money."
+
+"So you did!" chimed in an unexpected voice, which made Mrs. Mudge start
+nervously.
+
+It was the young woman already mentioned, who was bereft of reason,
+but who at times, as often happens in such cases, seemed gifted with
+preternatural acuteness.
+
+"So you did. I saw you, I did; I saw you creep up when you thought
+nobody was looking, and search her pocket. You opened that paper and
+took out the bright yellow piece, and put in another. You didn't think I
+was looking at you, ha! ha! How I laughed as I stood behind the door and
+saw you tremble for fear some one would catch you thieving. You didn't
+think of me, dear, did you?"
+
+And the wild creature burst into an unmeaning laugh.
+
+Mrs. Mudge stood for a moment mute, overwhelmed by this sudden
+revelation. But for the darkness, Aunt Lucy could have seen the sudden
+flush which overspread her face with the crimson hue of detected guilt.
+But this was only for a moment. It was quickly succeeded by a feeling
+of intense anger towards the unhappy creature who had been the means of
+exposing her.
+
+"I'll teach you to slander your betters, you crazy fool," she exclaimed,
+in a voice almost inarticulate with passion, as she seized her rudely by
+the arm, and dragged her violently from the room.
+
+She returned immediately.
+
+"I suppose," said she, abruptly, confronting Aunt Lucy, "that you are
+fool enough to believe her ravings?"
+
+"I bring no accusation," said the old lady, calmly, "If your conscience
+acquits you, it is not for me to accuse you."
+
+"But what do you think?" persisted Mrs. Mudge, whose consciousness of
+guilt did not leave her quite at ease.
+
+"I cannot read the heart," said Aunt Lucy, composedly. "I can only say,
+that, pauper as I am, I would not exchange places with the one who has
+done this deed."
+
+"Do you mean me?" demanded Mrs. Mudge.
+
+"You can tell best."
+
+"I tell you what, Aunt Lucy Lee," said Mrs. Mudge, her eyes blazing
+with anger, "If you dare insinuate to any living soul that I stole your
+paltry money, which I don't believe you ever had, I will be bitterly
+revenged upon you."
+
+She flaunted out of the room, and Aunt Lucy, the first bitterness of her
+disappointment over, retired to bed, and slept more tranquilly than the
+unscrupulous woman who had robbed her.
+
+At a quarter before four Paul started from his humble couch, and hastily
+dressed himself, took up a little bundle containing all his scanty stock
+of clothing, and noiselessly descended the two flights of stairs which
+separated him from the lower story. Here he paused a moment for Aunt
+Lucy to appear. Her sharp ears had distinguished his stealthy steps as
+he passed her door, and she came down to bid him good-by. She had in her
+hands a pair of stockings which she slipped into his bundle.
+
+"I wish I had something else to give you, Paul," she said, "but you know
+that I am not very rich."
+
+"Dear Aunt Lucy," said Paul, kissing her, "you are my only friend on
+earth. You have been very kind to me, and I never will forget you,
+NEVER! By-and-by, when I am rich, I will build a fine house, and you
+will come and live with me, won't you?"
+
+Paul's bright anticipations, improbable as they were, had the effect of
+turning his companion's thoughts into a more cheerful channel.
+
+She bent down and kissed him, whispering softly, "Yes, I will, Paul."
+
+"Then it's a bargain," said he, joyously, "Mind you don't forget it. I
+shall come for you one of these days when you least expect it."
+
+"Have you any money?" inquired Aunt Lucy.
+
+Paul shook his head.
+
+"Then," said she, drawing from her finger a gold ring which had held
+its place for many long years, "here is something which will bring you a
+little money if you are ever in distress."
+
+Paul hung back.
+
+"I would rather not take it, indeed I would," he said, earnestly,
+"I would rather go hungry for two or three days than sell your ring.
+Besides, I shall not need it; God will provide for me."
+
+"But you need not sell it," urged Aunt Lucy, "unless it is absolutely
+necessary. You can take it and keep it in remembrance of me. Keep it
+till you see me again, Paul. It will be a pledge to me that you will
+come back again some day."
+
+"On that condition I will take it," said Paul, "and some day I will
+bring it back."
+
+A slight noise above, as of some one stirring in sleep, excited the
+apprehensions of the two, and warned them that it was imprudent for them
+to remain longer in conversation.
+
+After a hurried good-by, Aunt Lucy quietly went upstairs again, and
+Paul, shouldering his bundle, walked rapidly away.
+
+The birds, awakening from their night's repose, were beginning to carol
+forth their rich songs of thanksgiving for the blessing of a new day.
+From the flowers beneath his feet and the blossom-laden branches above
+his head, a delicious perfume floated out upon the morning air, and
+filled the heart of the young wanderer with a sense of the joyousness of
+existence, and inspired him with a hopeful confidence in the future.
+
+For the first time he felt that he belonged to himself. At the age of
+thirteen he had taken his fortune in his own hand, and was about to mold
+it as best he might.
+
+There were care, and toil, and privations before him, no doubt, but
+in that bright morning hour he could harbor only cheerful and trusting
+thoughts. Hopefully he looked forward to the time when he could fulfil
+his father's dying injunction, and lift from his name the burden of a
+debt unpaid. Then his mind reverting to another thought, he could not
+help smiling at the surprise and anger of Mr. Mudge, when he should find
+that his assistant had taken French leave. He thought he should like to
+be concealed somewhere where he could witness the commotion excited
+by his own departure. But as he could not be in two places at the same
+time, he must lose that satisfaction. He had cut loose from the Mudge
+household, as he trusted, forever. He felt that a new and brighter life
+was opening before him.
+
+
+
+
+VIII.
+
+A FRIEND IN NEED.
+
+
+Our hero did not stop till he had put a good five miles between himself
+and the poorhouse. He knew that it would not be long before Mr. Mudge
+would discover his absence, and the thought of being carried back was
+doubly distasteful to him now that he had, even for a short time, felt
+the joy of being his own master. His hurried walk, taken in the fresh
+morning air, gave him quite a sharp appetite. Luckily he had the means
+of gratifying it. The night before he had secreted half his supper,
+knowing that he should need it more the next morning. He thought he
+might now venture to sit down and eat it.
+
+At a little distance from the road was a spring, doubtless used for
+cattle, since it was situated at the lower end of a pasture. Close
+beside and bending over it was a broad, branching oak, which promised a
+cool and comfortable shelter.
+
+"That's just the place for me," thought Paul, who felt thirsty as well
+as hungry, "I think I will take breakfast here and rest awhile before I
+go any farther."
+
+So saying he leaped lightly over the rail fence, and making his way to
+the place indicated, sat down in the shadow of the tree. Scooping up
+some water in the hollow of his hand, he drank a deep and refreshing
+draught. He next proceeded to pull out of his pocket a small package,
+which proved to contain two small pieces of bread. His long morning walk
+had given him such an appetite that he was not long in despatching all
+he had. It is said by some learned physicians, who no doubt understand
+the matter, that we should always rise from the table with an appetite.
+Probably Paul had never heard of this rule. Nevertheless, he seemed in
+a fair way of putting it into practice, for the best of reasons, because
+he could not help it.
+
+His breakfast, though not the most inviting, being simply unbuttered
+bread and rather dry at that, seemed more delicious than ever before,
+but unfortunately there was not enough of it. However, as there seemed
+likely to be no more forthcoming, he concluded in default of breakfast
+to lie down under the tree for a few minutes before resuming his walk.
+Though he could not help wondering vaguely where his dinner was to come
+from, as that time was several hours distant, he wisely decided not to
+anticipate trouble till it came.
+
+Lying down under the tree, Paul began to consider what Mr. Mudge would
+say when he discovered that he had run away.
+
+"He'll have to milk the cows himself," thought Paul. "He won't fancy
+that much. Won't Mrs. Mudge scold, thought? I'm glad I shan't be within
+hearing."
+
+"Holloa!"
+
+It was a boy's voice that Paul heard.
+
+Looking up he saw a sedate company of cows entering the pasture single
+file through an aperture made by letting down the bars. Behind them
+walked a boy of about his own size, flourishing a stout hickory stick.
+The cows went directly to the spring from which Paul had already drunk.
+The young driver looked at our hero with some curiosity, wondering,
+doubtless, what brought him there so early in the morning. After a
+little hesitation he said, remarking Paul's bundle, "Where are you
+traveling?"
+
+"I don't know exactly," said Paul, who was not quite sure whether it
+would be politic to avow his destination.
+
+"Don't know?" returned the other, evidently surprised.
+
+"Not exactly; I may go to New York."
+
+"New York! That's a great ways off. Do you know the way there?"
+
+"No, but I can find it."
+
+"Are you going all alone?" asked his new acquaintance, who evidently
+thought Paul had undertaken a very formidable journey.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Are you going to walk all the way?"
+
+"Yes, unless somebody offers me a ride now and then."
+
+"But why don't you ride in the stage, or in the cars? You would get
+there a good deal quicker."
+
+"One reason," said Paul, hesitating a little, "is because I have no
+money to pay for riding."
+
+"Then how do you expect to live? Have you had any breakfast, this
+morning?"
+
+"I brought some with me, and just got through eating it when you came
+along."
+
+"And where do you expect to get any dinner?" pursued his questioner, who
+was evidently not a little puzzled by the answers he received.
+
+"I don't know," returned Paul.
+
+His companion looked not a little confounded at this view of the matter,
+but presently a bright thought struck him.
+
+"I shouldn't wonder," he said, shrewdly, "if you were running away."
+
+Paul hesitated a moment. He knew that his case must look a little
+suspicious, thus unexplained, and after a brief pause for reflection
+determined to take the questioner into his confidence. He did this the
+more readily because his new acquaintance looked very pleasant.
+
+"You've guessed right," he said; "if you'll promise not to tell anybody,
+I'll tell you all about it."
+
+This was readily promised, and the boy who gave his name as John
+Burgess, sat down beside Paul, while he, with the frankness of
+boyhood, gave a circumstantial account of his father's death, and the
+ill-treatment he had met with subsequently.
+
+"Do you come from Wrenville?" asked John, interested. "Why, I've got
+relations there. Perhaps you know my cousin, Ben Newcome."
+
+"Is Ben Newcome your cousin? O yes, I know him very well; he's a
+first-rate fellow."
+
+"He isn't much like his father."
+
+"Not at all. If he was"--
+
+"You wouldn't like him so well. Uncle talks a little too much out of
+the dictionary, and walks so straight that he bends backward. But I say,
+Paul, old Mudge deserves to be choked, and Mrs. Mudge should be obliged
+to swallow a gallon of her own soup. I don't know but that would be
+worse than choking. I wouldn't have stayed so long if I had been in your
+place."
+
+"I shouldn't," said Paul, "if it hadn't been for Aunt Lucy."
+
+"Was she an aunt of yours?"
+
+"No, but we used to call her so, She's the best friend I've got, and I
+don't know but the only one," said Paul, a little sadly.
+
+"No, she isn't," said John, quickly; "I'll be your friend, Paul.
+Sometime, perhaps, I shall go to New York, myself, and then I will come
+and see you. Where do you expect to be?"
+
+"I don't know anything about the city," said Paul, "but if you come, I
+shall be sure to see you somewhere. I wish you were going now."
+
+Neither Paul nor his companion had much idea of the extent of the great
+metropolis, or they would not have taken it so much as a matter of
+course that, being in the same place, they should meet each other.
+
+Their conversation was interrupted by the ringing of a bell from a
+farmhouse within sight.
+
+"That's our breakfast-bell," said John rising from the grass. "It is
+meant for me. I suppose they wonder what keeps me so long. Won't you
+come and take breakfast with me, Paul?"
+
+"I guess not," said Paul, who would have been glad to do so had he
+followed the promptings of his appetite. "I'm afraid your folks would
+ask me questions, and then it would be found out that I am running
+away."
+
+"I didn't think of that," returned John, after a pause. "You haven't got
+any dinner with you?" he said a moment after.
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, I'll tell you what I'll do. Come with me as far as the fence, and
+lie down there till I've finished breakfast. Then I'll bring something
+out for you, and maybe I'll walk along a little way with you."
+
+"You are very kind," said Paul, gratefully.
+
+"Oh, nonsense," said John, "that's nothing. Besides, you know we are
+going to be friends."
+
+"John! breakfast's ready."
+
+"There's Nelson calling me," said John, hurriedly. "I must leave you;
+there's the fence; lie down there, and I'll be back in a jiffy."
+
+"John, I say, why don't you come?"
+
+"I'm coming. You mustn't think everybody's got such a thundering great
+appetite as you, Nelson."
+
+"I guess you've got enough to keep you from pining away," said Nelson,
+good-naturedly, "you're twice as fat as I am."
+
+"That's because I work harder," said John, rather illogically.
+
+The brothers went in to breakfast.
+
+But a few minutes elapsed before John reappeared, bearing under his arm
+a parcel wrapped up in an old newspaper. He came up panting with the
+haste he had made.
+
+"It didn't take you long to eat breakfast," said Paul.
+
+"No, I hurried through it; I thought you would get tired of waiting. And
+now I'll walk along with you a little ways. But wait here's something
+for you."
+
+So saying he unrolled the newspaper and displayed a loaf of bread,
+fresh and warm, which looked particularly inviting to Paul, whose scanty
+breakfast had by no means satisfied his appetite. Besides this, there
+was a loaf of molasses ginger-bread, with which all who were born in the
+country, or know anything of New England housekeeping, are familiar.
+
+"There," said John, "I guess that'll be enough for your dinner."
+
+"But how did you get it without having any questions asked?" inquired
+our hero.
+
+"Oh," said John, "I asked mother for them, and when she asked what I
+wanted of them, I told her that I'd answer that question to-morrow.
+You see I wanted to give you a chance to get off out of the way, though
+mother wouldn't tell, even if she knew."
+
+"All right," said Paul, with satisfaction.
+
+He could not help looking wistfully at the bread, which looked very
+inviting to one accustomed to poorhouse fare.
+
+"If you wouldn't mind," he said hesitating, "I would like to eat a
+little of the bread now."
+
+"Mind, of course not," said John, breaking off a liberal slice. "Why
+didn't I think of that before? Walking must have given you a famous
+appetite."
+
+John looked on with evident approbation, while Paul ate with great
+apparent appetite.
+
+"There," said he with a sigh of gratification, as he swallowed the last
+morsel, "I haven't tasted anything so good for a long time."
+
+"Is it as good as Mrs. Mudge's soup?" asked John, mischievously.
+
+"Almost," returned Paul, smiling.
+
+We must now leave the boys to pursue their way, and return to the
+dwelling from which our hero had so unceremoniously taken his departure,
+and from which danger now threatened him.
+
+
+
+
+IX.
+
+A CLOUD IN THE MUDGE HORIZON.
+
+
+Mr. Mudge was accustomed to call Paul at five o'clock, to milk the cows
+and perform other chores. He himself did not rise till an hour later.
+During Paul's sickness, he was obliged to take his place,--a thing he
+did not relish overmuch. Now that our hero had recovered, he gladly
+prepared to indulge himself in an extra nap.
+
+"Paul!" called Mr. Mudge from the bottom of the staircase leading up
+into the attic, "it's five o'clock; time you were downstairs."
+
+Mr. Mudge waited for an answer, but none came.
+
+"Paul!" repeated Mr. Mudge in a louder tone, "it's time to get up;
+tumble out there."
+
+Again there was no answer.
+
+At first, Mr. Mudge thought it might be in consequence of Paul's
+sleeping so soundly, but on listening attentively, he could not
+distinguish the deep and regular breathing which usually accompanies
+such slumber.
+
+"He must be sullen," he concluded, with a feeling of irritation. "If he
+is, I'll teach him----"
+
+Without taking time to finish the sentence, he bounded up the rickety
+staircase, and turned towards the bed with the intention of giving our
+hero a smart shaking.
+
+He looked with astonishment at the empty bed. "Is it possible," he
+thought, "that Paul has already got up? He isn't apt to do so before he
+is called."
+
+At this juncture, Mrs. Mudge, surprised at her husband's prolonged
+absence, called from below, "Mr. Mudge!"
+
+"Well, wife?"
+
+"What in the name of wonder keeps you up there so long?"
+
+"Just come up and see."
+
+Mrs. Mudge did come up. Her husband pointed to the empty bed.
+
+"What do you think of that?" he asked.
+
+"What about it?" she inquired, not quite comprehending.
+
+"About that boy, Paul. When I called him I got no answer, so I came up,
+and behold he is among the missing."
+
+"You don't think he's run away, do you?" asked Mrs. Mudge startled.
+
+"That is more than I know."
+
+"I'll see if his clothes are here," said his wife, now fully aroused.
+
+Her search was unavailing. Paul's clothes had disappeared as
+mysteriously as their owner.
+
+"It's a clear case," said Mr. Mudge, shaking his head; "he's gone.
+I wouldn't have lost him for considerable. He was only a boy, but I
+managed to get as much work out of him as a man. The question is now,
+what shall we do about it?"
+
+"He must be pursued," said Mrs. Mudge, with vehemence, "I'll have him
+back if it costs me twenty dollars. I'll tell you what, husband," she
+exclaimed, with a sudden light breaking in upon her, "if there's anybody
+in this house knows where he's gone, it is Aunt Lucy Lee. Only last week
+I caught her knitting him a pair of stockings. I might have known what
+it meant if I hadn't been a fool."
+
+"Ha, ha! So you might, if you hadn't been a fool!" echoed a mocking
+voice.
+
+Turning with sudden anger, Mrs. Mudge beheld the face of the crazy girl
+peering up at her from below.
+
+This turned her thoughts into a different channel.
+
+"I'll teach you what I am," she exclaimed, wrathfully descending the
+stairs more rapidly than she had mounted them, "and if you know anything
+about the little scamp, I'll have it out of you."
+
+The girl narrowly succeeded in eluding the grasp of her pursuer. But,
+alas! for Mrs. Mudge. In her impetuosity she lost her footing, and fell
+backward into a pail of water which had been brought up the night before
+and set in the entry for purposes of ablution. More wrathful than ever,
+Mrs. Mudge bounced into her room and sat down in her dripping garments
+in a very uncomfortable frame of mind. As for Paul, she felt a personal
+dislike for him, and was not sorry on some accounts to have him out of
+the house. The knowledge, however, that he had in a manner defied her
+authority by running away, filled her with an earnest desire to get him
+back, if only to prove that it was not to be defied with impunity.
+
+Hoping to elicit some information from Aunt Lucy, who, she felt sure,
+was in Paul's confidence, she paid her a visit.
+
+"Well, here's a pretty goings on," she commenced, abruptly. Finding that
+Aunt Lucy manifested no curiosity on the subject, she continued, in a
+significant tone, "Of course, YOU don't know anything about it."
+
+"I can tell better when I know what you refer to," said the old lady
+calmly.
+
+"Oh, you are very ignorant all at once. I suppose you didn't know Paul
+Prescott had run away?"
+
+"I am not surprised," said the old lady, in the same quiet manner.
+
+Mrs. Mudge had expected a show of astonishment, and this calmness
+disconcerted her.
+
+"You are not surprised!" she retorted. "I presume not, since you
+knew all about it beforehand. That's why you were knitting him some
+stockings. Deny it, if you dare."
+
+"I have no disposition to deny it."
+
+"You haven't!" exclaimed the questioner, almost struck dumb with this
+audacity.
+
+"No," said Aunt Lucy. "Why should I? There was no particular inducement
+for him to stay here. Wherever he goes, I hope he will meet with good
+friends and good treatment."
+
+"As much as to say he didn't find them here. Is that what you mean?"
+
+"I have no charges to bring."
+
+"But I have," said Mrs. Mudge, her eyes lighting with malicious
+satisfaction. "Last night you missed a ten-dollar gold piece, which you
+saw was stolen from you. This morning it appears that Paul Prescott has
+run away. I charge him with the theft."
+
+"You do not, can not believe this," said the old lady, uneasily.
+
+"Of course I do," returned Mrs. Mudge, triumphantly, perceiving her
+advantage. "I have no doubt of it, and when we get the boy back, he
+shall be made to confess it."
+
+Aunt Lucy looked troubled, much to the gratification of Mrs. Mudge.
+It was but for a short time, however. Rising from her seat, she stood
+confronting Mrs. Mudge, and said quietly, but firmly, "I have no doubt,
+Mrs. Mudge, you are capable of doing what you say. I would advise you,
+however, to pause. You know, as well as I do, that Paul is incapable
+of this theft. Even if he were wicked enough to form the idea, he would
+have no need, since it was my intention to GIVE him this money. Who did
+actually steal the gold, you PERHAPS know better than I. Should it be
+necessary, I shall not hesitate to say so. I advise you not to render it
+necessary."
+
+The threat which lay in these words was understood. It came with the
+force of a sudden blow to Mrs. Mudge, who had supposed it would be no
+difficult task to frighten and silence Aunt Lucy. The latter had always
+been so yielding in all matters relating to herself, that this intrepid
+championship of Paul's interests was unlooked for. The tables were
+completely turned. Pale with rage, and a mortified sense of having been
+foiled with her own weapons, Mrs. Mudge left the room.
+
+Meanwhile her husband milked the cows, and was now occupied in
+performing certain other duties that could not be postponed, being
+resolved, immediately after breakfast was over, to harness up and pursue
+the runaway.
+
+"Well, did you get anything out of the old lady?" he inquired, as he
+came from the barn with the full milk-pails.
+
+"She said she knew beforehand that he was going."
+
+"Eh!" said Mr. Mudge, pricking up his ears, "did she say where?"
+
+"No, and she won't. She knit him a pair of stockings to help him off,
+and doesn't pretend to deny it. She's taken a wonderful fancy to the
+young scamp, and has been as obstinate as could be ever since he has
+been here."
+
+"If I get him back," said Mr. Mudge, "he shall have a good flogging, if
+I am able to give him one, and she shall be present to see it."
+
+"That's right," said Mrs. Mudge, approvingly, "when are you going to set
+out after him?"
+
+"Right after breakfast. So be spry, and get it ready as soon as you
+can."
+
+Under the stimulus of this inspiring motive, Mrs. Mudge bustled about
+with new energy, and before many minutes the meal was in readiness.
+It did not take long to dispatch it. Immediately afterwards, Mr. Mudge
+harnessed up, as he had determined, and started off in pursuit of our
+hero.
+
+
+In the meantime the two boys had walked leisurely along, conversing on
+various subjects.
+
+"When you get to the city, Paul," said John, "I shall want to hear from
+you. Will you write to me?"
+
+Paul promised readily.
+
+"You can direct to John Burges, Burrville. The postmaster knows me, and
+I shall be sure to get it."
+
+"I wish you were going with me," said Paul.
+
+"Sometimes when I think that I am all alone it discourages me. It would
+be so much pleasanter to have some one with me."
+
+"I shall come sometime," said John, "when I am a little older. I heard
+father say something the other day about my going into a store in the
+city. So we may meet again."
+
+"I hope we shall."
+
+They were just turning a bend of the road, when Paul chanced to look
+backward. About a quarter of a mile back he descried a horse and wagon
+wearing a familiar look. Fixing his eyes anxiously upon them, he was
+soon made aware that his suspicions were only too well founded. It was
+Mr. Mudge, doubtless in quest of him.
+
+"What shall I do?" he asked, hurriedly of his companion.
+
+"What's the matter?"
+
+This was quickly explained.
+
+John was quickwitted, and he instantly decided upon the course proper
+to be pursued. On either side of the road was a growth of underbrush so
+thick as to be almost impenetrable.
+
+"Creep in behind there, and be quick about it," directed John, "there is
+no time to lose."
+
+"There," said he, after Paul had followed his advice, "if he can see you
+now he must have sharp eyes."
+
+"Won't you come in too?"
+
+"Not I," said John, "I am anxious to see this Mr. Mudge, since you have
+told me so much about him. I hope he will ask me some questions."
+
+"What will you tell him?"
+
+"Trust me for that. Don't say any more. He's close by."
+
+
+
+
+X.
+
+MR. MUDGE MEETS HIS MATCH.
+
+
+John lounged along, appearing to be very busily engaged in making a
+whistle from a slip of willow which he had a short time before cut from
+the tree. He purposely kept in the middle of the road, apparently quite
+unaware of the approach of the vehicle, until he was aroused by the
+sound of a voice behind him.
+
+"Be a little more careful, if you don't want to get run over."
+
+John assumed a look of surprise, and with comic terror ran to the side
+of the road.
+
+Mr. Mudge checked his horse, and came to a sudden halt.
+
+"I say, youngster, haven't you seen a boy of about your own size walking
+along, with a bundle in his hand?"
+
+"Tied up in a red cotton handkerchief?" inquired John.
+
+"Yes, I believe so," said Mr. Mudge, eagerly, "where did you----"
+
+"With a blue cloth cap?"
+
+"Yes, where----"
+
+"Gray jacket and pants?"
+
+"Yes, yes. Where?"
+
+"With a patch on one knee?"
+
+"Yes, the very one. When did you see him?" said Mr. Mudge, getting ready
+to start his horse.
+
+"Perhaps it isn't the one you mean," continued John, who took a
+mischievous delight in playing with the evident impatience of Mr. Mudge;
+"the boy that I saw looked thin, as if he hadn't had enough to eat."
+
+Mr. Mudge winced slightly, and looked at John with some suspicion.
+But John put on so innocent and artless a look that Mr. Mudge at once
+dismissed the idea that there was any covert meaning in what he said.
+Meanwhile Paul, from his hiding-place in the bushes, had listened with
+anxiety to the foregoing colloquy. When John described his appearance so
+minutely, he was seized with a sudden apprehension that the boy meant
+to betray him. But he dismissed it instantly. In his own singleness of
+heart he could not believe such duplicity possible. Still, it was not
+without anxiety that he waited to hear what would be said next.
+
+"Well," said Mr. Mudge, slowly, "I don't know but he is a little PEAKED.
+He's been sick lately, and that's took off his flesh."
+
+"Was he your son?" asked John, in a sympathizing tone; "you must feel
+quite troubled about him."
+
+He looked askance at Mr. Mudge, enjoying that gentleman's growing
+irritation.
+
+"My son? No. Where----"
+
+"Nephews perhaps?" suggested the imperturbable John, leisurely
+continuing the manufacture of a whistle.
+
+"No, I tell you, nothing of the kind. But I can't sit waiting here."
+
+"Oh, I hope you'll excuse me," said John, apologetically. "I hope you
+won't stop on my account. I didn't know you were in a hurry."
+
+"Well, you know it now," said Mr. Mudge, crossly. "When and where did
+you see the boy you have described? I am in pursuit of him."
+
+"Has he run away?" inquired John in assumed surprise.
+
+"Are you going to answer my question or not?" demanded Mr. Mudge,
+angrily.
+
+"Oh, I beg your pardon. I shouldn't have asked so many questions, only I
+thought he was a nice-looking boy, and I felt interested in him."
+
+"He's a young scamp," said Mr. Mudge, impetuously, "and it's my belief
+that you're another. Now answer my question. When and where did you see
+this boy?"
+
+This time Mr. Mudge's menacing look warned John that he had gone far
+enough. Accordingly he answered promptly, "He passed by our farm this
+morning."
+
+"How far back is that?"
+
+"About three miles."
+
+"Did he stop there?"
+
+"Yes, he stopped a while to rest."
+
+"Have you seen him since?"
+
+"Yes, I saw him about half a mile back."
+
+"On this road?"
+
+"Yes, but he turned up the road that branches off there."
+
+"Just what I wanted to find out," said Mr. Mudge, in a tone of
+satisfaction, "I'm sure to catch him."
+
+So saying, he turned about and put his horse to its utmost speed,
+determined to make up for lost time. When he was fairly out of sight,
+Paul came forth from his hiding-place.
+
+"How could you do so!" he asked in a reproachful tone.
+
+"Could I do what?" asked John, turning a laughing face towards Paul.
+"Didn't I tell old Mudge the exact truth? You know you did turn up that
+road. To be sure you didn't go two rods before turning back. But he
+didn't stop to ask about that. If he hadn't been in such a hurry,
+perhaps I should have told him. Success to him!"
+
+"You can't think how I trembled when you described me so particularly."
+
+"You didn't think I would betray you?" said John, quickly.
+
+"No, but I was afraid you would venture too far, and get us both into
+trouble."
+
+"Trust me for that, Paul; I've got my eyes wide open, and ain't easily
+caught. But wasn't it fun to see old Mudge fuming while I kept him
+waiting. What would he have said if he had known the bird was so near at
+hand? He looked foolish enough when I asked him if you were his son."
+
+John sat down and gave vent to his pent-up laughter which he had felt
+obliged to restrain in the presence of Mr. Mudge. He laughed so heartily
+that Paul, notwithstanding his recent fright and anxiety, could not
+resist the infection. Together they laughed, till the very air seemed
+vocal with merriment.
+
+John was the first to recover his gravity.
+
+"I am sorry, Paul," he said, "but I must bid you good-by. They will miss
+me from the house. I am glad I have got acquainted with you, and I hope
+I shall see you again some time before very long. Good-by, Paul."
+
+"Good-by, John."
+
+The two boys shook hands and parted. One went in one direction, the
+other in the opposite. Each looked back repeatedly till the other was
+out of sight. Then came over Paul once more a feeling of sadness and
+desolation, which the high spirits of his companion had for the time
+kept off. Occasionally he cast a glance backwards, to make sure that
+Mr. Mudge was not following him. But Paul had no cause to fear on that
+score. The object of his dread was already some miles distant in a
+different direction.
+
+For an hour longer, Paul trudged on. He met few persons, the road not
+being very much frequented. He was now at least twelve miles from his
+starting-place, and began to feel very sensibly the effects of heat
+and fatigue combined. He threw himself down upon the grass under the
+overhanging branches of an appletree to rest. After his long walk repose
+seemed delicious, and with a feeling of exquisite enjoyment he stretched
+himself out at full length upon the soft turf, and closed his eyes.
+
+Insensibly he fell asleep. How long he slept he could not tell. He was
+finally roused from his slumber by something cold touching his cheek.
+Starting up he rubbed his eyes in bewilderment, and gradually became
+aware that this something was the nose of a Newfoundland dog, whose keen
+scent had enabled him to discover the whereabouts of the small stock
+of provisions with which Paul had been supplied by his late companion.
+Fortunately he awoke in time to save its becoming the prey of its canine
+visitor.
+
+"I reckon you came nigh losing your dinner," fell upon his ears in a
+rough but hearty tone.
+
+At the same time he heard the noise of wheels, and looking up, beheld a
+specimen of a class well known throughout New England--a tin pedler. He
+was seated on a cart liberally stocked with articles of tin ware. From
+the rear depended two immense bags, one of which served as a receptacle
+for white rags, the other for bits of calico and whatever else may fall
+under the designation of "colored." His shop, for such it was, was
+drawn at a brisk pace by a stout horse, who in this respect presented a
+contrast to his master, who was long and lank. The pedler himself was
+a man of perhaps forty, with a face in which shrewdness and good humor
+seemed alike indicated. Take him for all in all, you might travel some
+distance without falling in with a more complete specimen of the Yankee.
+
+"So you came nigh losing your dinner," he repeated, in a pleasant tone.
+
+"Yes," said Paul, "I got tired and fell asleep, and I don't know when I
+should have waked up but for your dog."
+
+"Yes, Boney's got a keen scent for provisions," laughed the pedler.
+"He's a little graspin', like his namesake. You see his real name is
+Bonaparte; we only call him Boney, for short."
+
+Meanwhile he had stopped his horse. He was about to start afresh, when a
+thought struck him.
+
+"Maybe you're goin' my way," said he, turning to Paul; "if you are,
+you're welcome to a ride."
+
+Paul was very glad to accept the invitation. He clambered into the cart,
+and took a seat behind the pedler, while Boney, who took his recent
+disappointment very good-naturedly, jogged on contentedly behind.
+
+"How far are you goin'?" asked Paul's new acquaintance, as he whipped up
+his horse.
+
+Paul felt a little embarrassed. If he had been acquainted with the names
+of any of the villages on the route he might easily have answered. As it
+was, only one name occurred to him.
+
+"I think," said he, with some hesitation, "that I shall go to New York."
+
+"New York!" repeated the pedler, with a whistle expressive of his
+astonishment.
+
+"Well, you've a journey before you. Got any relations there?"
+
+"No."
+
+"No uncles, aunts, cousins, nor nothing?"
+
+Paul shook his head.
+
+"Then what makes you go? Haven't run away from your father and mother,
+hey?" asked the pedler, with a knowing look.
+
+"I have no father nor mother," said Paul, sadly enough.
+
+"Well, you had somebody to take care of you, I calculate. Where did you
+live?"
+
+"If I tell you, you won't carry me back?" said Paul, anxiously.
+
+"Not a bit of it. I've got too much business on hand for that."
+
+Relieved by this assurance, Paul told his story, encouraged thereto
+by frequent questions from his companion, who seemed to take a lively
+interest in the adventures of his young companion.
+
+"That's a capital trick you played on old Mudge," he said with a hearty
+laugh which almost made the tins rattle. "I don't blame you a bit for
+running away. I've got a story to tell you about Mrs. Mudge. She's a
+regular skinflint."
+
+
+
+
+XI.
+
+WAYSIDE GOSSIP.
+
+
+This was the pedler's promised story about Mrs. Mudge.
+
+"The last time I was round that way, I stopped, thinking maybe they
+might have some rags to dispose of for tin-ware. The old lady seemed
+glad to see me, and pretty soon she brought down a lot of white rags.
+I thought they seemed quite heavy for their bulk,--howsomever, I wasn't
+looking for any tricks, and I let it go. By-and-by, when I happened to
+be ransacking one of the bags, I came across half a dozen pounds or more
+of old iron tied up in a white cloth. That let the cat out of the bag. I
+knew why they were so heavy, then, I reckon I shan't call on Mrs. Mudge
+next time I go by."
+
+"So you've run off," he continued, after a pause, "I like your
+spunk,--just what I should have done myself. But tell me how you managed
+to get off without the old chap's finding it out."
+
+Paul related such of his adventures as he had not before told, his
+companion listening with marked approval.
+
+"I wish I'd been there," he said. "I'd have given fifty cents, right
+out, to see how old Mudge looked, I calc'late he's pretty well tired
+with his wild-goose chase by this time."
+
+It was now twelve o'clock, and both the travelers began to feel the
+pangs of hunger.
+
+"It's about time to bait, I calc'late," remarked the pedler.
+
+The unsophisticated reader is informed that the word "bait," in New
+England phraseology, is applied to taking lunch or dining.
+
+At this point a green lane opened out of the public road, skirted on
+either side by a row of trees. Carpeted with green, it made a very
+pleasant dining-room. A red-and-white heifer browsing at a little
+distance looked up from her meal and surveyed the intruders with mild
+attention, but apparently satisfied that they contemplated no invasion
+of her rights, resumed her agreeable employment. Over an irregular stone
+wall our travelers looked into a thrifty apple-orchard laden with fruit.
+They halted beneath a spreading chestnut-tree which towered above its
+neighbors, and offered them a grateful shelter from the noonday sun.
+
+From the box underneath the seat, the pedler took out a loaf of bread,
+a slice of butter, and a tin pail full of doughnuts. Paul, on his side,
+brought out his bread and gingerbread.
+
+"I most generally carry round my own provisions," remarked the pedler,
+between two mouthfuls. "It's a good deal cheaper and more convenient,
+too. Help yourself to the doughnuts. I always calc'late to have some
+with me. I'd give more for 'em any day than for rich cake that ain't
+fit for anybody. My mother used to beat everybody in the neighborhood on
+making doughnuts. She made 'em so good that we never knew when to stop
+eating. You wouldn't hardly believe it, but, when I was a little shaver,
+I remember eating twenty-three doughnuts at one time. Pretty nigh killed
+me."
+
+"I should think it might," said Paul, laughing.
+
+"Mother got so scared that she vowed she wouldn't fry another for three
+months, but I guess she kinder lost the run of the almanac, for in less
+than a week she turned out about a bushel more."
+
+All this time the pedler was engaged in practically refuting the saying,
+that a man cannot do two things at once. With a little assistance from
+Paul, the stock of doughnuts on which he had been lavishing encomiums,
+diminished rapidly. It was evident that his attachment to this homely
+article of diet was quite as strong as ever.
+
+"Don't be afraid of them," said he, seeing that Paul desisted from his
+efforts, "I've got plenty more in the box."
+
+Paul signified that his appetite was already appeased.
+
+"Then we might as well be jogging on. Hey, Goliah," said he, addressing
+the horse, who with an air of great content, had been browsing while his
+master was engaged in a similar manner. "Queer name for a horse, isn't
+it? I wanted something out of the common way, so I asked mother for a
+name, and she gave me that. She's great on scripture names, mother
+is. She gave one to every one of her children. It didn't make much
+difference to her what they were as long as they were in the Bible. I
+believe she used to open the Bible at random, and take the first name
+she happened to come across. There are eight of us, and nary a decent
+name in the lot. My oldest brother's name is Abimelech. Then there's
+Pharaoh, and Ishmael, and Jonadab, for the boys, and Leah and Naomi, for
+the girls; but my name beats all. You couldn't guess it?"
+
+Paul shook his head.
+
+"I don't believe you could," said the pedler, shaking his head in comic
+indignation. "It's Jehoshaphat. Ain't that a respectable name for the
+son of Christian parents?"
+
+Paul laughed.
+
+"It wouldn't be so bad," continued the pedler, "if my other name was
+longer; but Jehoshaphat seems rather a long handle to put before Stubbs.
+I can't say I feel particularly proud of the name, though for use it'll
+do as well as any other. At any rate, it ain't quite so bad as the name
+mother pitched on for my youngest sister, who was lucky enough to die
+before she needed a name."
+
+"What was it?" inquired Paul, really curious to know what name could be
+considered less desirable than Jehoshaphat.
+
+"It was Jezebel," responded the pedler.
+
+"Everybody told mother 'twould never do; but she was kind of
+superstitious about it, because that was the first name she came to
+in the Bible, and so she thought it was the Lord's will that that name
+should be given to the child."
+
+As Mr. Stubbs finished his disquisition upon names, there came in sight
+a small house, dark and discolored with age and neglect. He pointed this
+out to Paul with his whip-handle.
+
+"That," said he, "is where old Keziah Onthank lives. Ever heard of him?"
+
+Paul had not.
+
+"He's the oldest man in these parts," pursued his loquacious companion.
+"There's some folks that seem a dyin' all the time, and for all that
+manage to outlive half the young folks in the neighborhood. Old Keziah
+Onthank is a complete case in p'int. As long ago as when I was cutting
+my teeth he was so old that nobody know'd how old he was. He was so
+bowed over that he couldn't see himself in the looking-glass unless you
+put it on the floor, and I guess even then what he saw wouldn't pay
+him for his trouble. He was always ailin' some way or other. Now it was
+rheumatism, now the palsy, and then again the asthma. He had THAT awful.
+
+"He lived in the same tumble-down old shanty we have just passed,--so
+poor that nobody'd take the gift of it. People said that he'd orter go
+to the poorhouse, so that when he was sick--which was pretty much all
+the time--he'd have somebody to take care of him. But he'd got kinder
+attached to the old place, seein' he was born there, and never lived
+anywhere else, and go he wouldn't.
+
+"Everybody expected he was near his end, and nobody'd have been
+surprised to hear of his death at any minute. But it's strange how some
+folks are determined to live on, as I said before. So Keziah, though he
+looked so old when I was a boy that it didn't seem as if he could look
+any older, kept on livin,' and livin', and arter I got married to Betsy
+Sprague, he was livin' still.
+
+"One day, I remember I was passin' by the old man's shanty, when I heard
+a dreadful groanin', and thinks I to myself, 'I shouldn't wonder if the
+old man was on his last legs.' So in I bolted. There he was, to be sure,
+a lyin', on the bed, all curled up into a heap, breathin' dreadful hard,
+and lookin' as white and pale as any ghost. I didn't know exactly
+what to do, so I went and got some water, but he motioned it away, and
+wouldn't drink it, but kept on groanin'.
+
+"'He mustn't be left here to die without any assistance,' thinks I, so I
+ran off as fast I could to find the doctor.
+
+"I found him eatin' dinner----
+
+"Come quick," says I, "to old Keziah Onthank's. He's dyin', as sure as
+my name is Jehoshaphat."
+
+"Well," said the doctor, "die or no die, I can't come till I've eaten my
+dinner."
+
+"But he's dyin', doctor."
+
+"Oh, nonsense. Talk of old Keziah Onthank's dyin'. He'll live longer
+than I shall."
+
+"I recollect I thought the doctor very unfeelin' to talk so of a fellow
+creetur, just stepping into eternity, as a body may say. However, it's
+no use drivin' a horse that's made up his mind he won't go, so although
+I did think the doctor dreadful deliberate about eatin' his dinner (he
+always would take half an hour for it), I didn't dare to say a word
+for fear he wouldn't come at all. You see the doctor was dreadful
+independent, and was bent on havin' his own way, pretty much, though for
+that matter I think it's the case with most folks. However, to come back
+to my story, I didn't feel particularly comfortable while I was waitin'
+his motions.
+
+"After a long while the doctor got ready. I was in such a hurry that I
+actilly pulled him along, he walked so slow; but he only laughed, and
+I couldn't help thinkin' that doctorin' had a hardinin' effect on the
+heart. I was determined if ever I fell sick I wouldn't send for him.
+
+"At last we got there. I went in all of a tremble, and crept to the bed,
+thinkin' I should see his dead body. But he wasn't there at all. I felt
+a little bothered you'd better believe."
+
+"Well," said the doctor, turning to me with a smile, "what do you think
+now?"
+
+"I don't know what to think," said I.
+
+"Then I'll help you," said he.
+
+"So sayin', he took me to the winder, and what do you think I see? As
+sure as I'm alive, there was the old man in the back yard, a squattin'
+down and pickin' up chips."
+
+"And is he still living?"
+
+"Yes, or he was when I come along last. The doctor's been dead these
+ten years. He told me old Keziah would outlive him, but I didn't believe
+him. I shouldn't be surprised if he lived forever."
+
+Paul listened with amused interest to this and other stories with which
+his companion beguiled the way. They served to divert his mind from
+the realities of his condition, and the uncertainty which hung over his
+worldly prospects.
+
+
+
+
+XII.
+
+ON THE BRINK OF DISCOVERY.
+
+
+"If you're in no great hurry to go to New York," said the pedler, "I
+should like to have you stay with me for a day or two. I live about
+twenty-five miles from here, straight ahead, so it will be on your way.
+I always manage to get home by Saturday night if it is any way possible.
+It doesn't seem comfortable to be away Sunday. As to-day is Friday, I
+shall get there to-morrow. So you can lie over a day and rest yourself."
+
+Paul felt grateful for this unexpected invitation. It lifted quite a
+load from his mind, since, as the day declined, certain anxious thoughts
+as to where he should find shelter, had obtruded themselves. Even now,
+the same trouble would be experienced on Monday night, but it is the
+characteristic of youth to pay little regard to anticipated difficulties
+as long as the present is provided for.
+
+It must not be supposed that the pedler neglected his business on
+account of his companion. On the road he had been traveling the houses
+were few and far between. He had, therefore, but few calls to make.
+Paul remarked, however, that when he did call he seldom failed to sell
+something.
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Stubbs, on being interrogated, "I make it a p'int to
+sell something, if it's no more than a tin dipper. I find some hard
+cases sometimes, and sometimes I have to give it up altogether. I can't
+quite come up to a friend of mine, Daniel Watson, who used to be in
+the same line of business. I never knew him to stop at a place without
+selling something. He had a good deal of judgment, Daniel had, and knew
+just when to use 'soft sodder,' and when not to. On the road that he
+traveled there lived a widow woman, who had the reputation of being as
+ugly, cross-grained a critter as ever lived. People used to say that
+it was enough to turn milk sour for her even to look at it. Well, it so
+happened that Daniel had never called there. One night he was boasting
+that he never called at a house without driving a bargain, when one
+of the company asked him, with a laugh, if he had ever sold the widow
+anything.
+
+"Why, no," said Daniel, "I never called there; but I've no doubt I
+could."
+
+"What'll you bet of it?"
+
+"I'm not a betting man," said Daniel, "but I feel so sure of it that I
+don't mind risking five dollars."
+
+"Agreed."
+
+"The next morning Daniel drove leisurely up to the widow's door and
+knocked. She had a great aversion to pedlers, and declared they were
+cheats, every one of them. She was busy sweeping when Daniel knocked.
+She came to the door in a dreadful hurry, hoping it might be an old
+widower in the neighborhood that she was trying to catch. When she saw
+how much she was mistaken she looked as black as a thundercloud.
+
+"Want any tin ware to-day, ma'am?" inquired Daniel, noways discomposed.
+
+"No, sir," snapped she.
+
+"Got all kinds,--warranted the best in the market. Couldn't I sell you
+something?"
+
+"Not a single thing," said she, preparing to shut the door; but Daniel,
+knowing all would then be lost, stepped in before she could shut it
+quite to, and began to name over some of the articles he had in his
+wagon.
+
+"You may talk till doomsday," said the widow, as mad as could be, "and
+it won't do a particle of good. Now, you've got your answer, and you'd
+better leave the house before you are driven out."
+
+"Brooms, brushes, lamps----"
+
+"Here the widow, who had been trying to keep in her anger, couldn't hold
+out any longer. She seized the broom she had been sweeping with, and
+brought it down with a tremendous whack upon Daniel's back. You can
+imagine how hard it was, when I tell you that the force of the blow
+snapped the broom in the middle. You might have thought Daniel would
+resent it, but he didn't appear to notice it, though it must have hurt
+him awful. He picked up the pieces, and handing them, with a polite bow,
+to the widow, said, 'Now, ma'am, I'm sure you need a new broom. I've got
+some capital ones out in the cart.'"
+
+"The widow seemed kind of overpowered by his coolness. She hardly knew
+what to say or what to think. However, she had broken her old broom,
+that was certain, and must have a new one; so when Daniel ran out and
+brought in a bundle of them, she picked out one and paid for it without
+saying a word; only, when Daniel asked if he might have the pleasure
+of calling again, she looked a little queer, and told him that if he
+considered it a pleasure, she had no objection."
+
+"And did he call again?"
+
+"Yes, whenever he went that way. The widow was always very polite to him
+after that, and, though she had a mortal dislike to pedlers in general,
+she was always ready to trade with him. Daniel used to say that he
+gained his bet and the widow's custom at ONE BLOW."
+
+They were now descending a little hill at the foot of which stood a
+country tavern. Here Mr. Stubbs declared his intention of spending the
+night. He drove into the barn, the large door of which stood invitingly
+open, and unharnessed his horse, taking especial care to rub him down
+and set before him an ample supply of provender.
+
+"I always take care of Goliah myself," said he. "He's a good friend to
+me, and it's no more than right that I should take good care of him.
+Now, we'll go into the house, and see what we can get for supper."
+
+He was surprised to see that Paul hung back, and seemed disinclined to
+follow.
+
+"What's the matter?" asked Mr. Stubbs, in surprise. "Why don't you
+come?"
+
+"Because," said Paul, looking embarrassed, "I've got no money."
+
+"Well, I have," said Mr. Stubbs, "and that will answer just as well, so
+come along, and don't be bashful. I'm about as hungry as a bear, and I
+guess you are too."
+
+Before many minutes, Paul sat down to a more bountiful repast than
+he had partaken of for many a day. There were warm biscuits and fresh
+butter, such as might please the palate of an epicure, while at the
+other end of the table was a plate of cake, flanked on one side by an
+apple-pie, on the other by one of pumpkin, with its rich golden hue,
+such as is to be found in its perfection, only in New England. It will
+scarcely be doubted that our hungry travellers did full justice to the
+fare set before them.
+
+When they had finished, they went into the public room, where were
+engaged some of the village worthies, intent on discussing the news
+and the political questions of the day. It was a time of considerable
+political excitement, and this naturally supplied the topic of
+conversation. In this the pedler joined, for his frequent travel on this
+route had made him familiarly acquainted with many of those present.
+
+Paul sat in a corner, trying to feel interested in the conversation; but
+the day had been a long one, and he had undergone an unusual amount of
+fatigue. Gradually, his drowsiness increased. The many voices fell upon
+his ears like a lullaby, and in a few minutes he was fast asleep.
+
+Early next morning they were up and on their way. It was the second
+morning since Paul's departure. Already a sense of freedom gave his
+spirits unwonted elasticity, and encouraged him to hope for the best.
+Had his knowledge of the future been greater, his confidence might have
+been less. But would he have been any happier?
+
+So many miles separated him from his late home, that he supposed himself
+quite safe from detection. A slight circumstance warned him that he must
+still be watchful and cautious.
+
+As they were jogging easily along, they heard the noise of wheels at a
+little distance. Paul looked up. To his great alarms he recognized
+in the driver of the approaching vehicle, one of the selectmen of
+Wrenville.
+
+"What's the matter?" asked his companion, noticing his sudden look of
+apprehension.
+
+Paul quickly communicated the ground of his alarm.
+
+"And you are afraid he will want to carry you back, are you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Not a bit of it. We'll circumvent the old fellow, unless he's sharper
+than I think he is. You've only got to do as I tell you."
+
+To this Paul quickly agreed.
+
+The selectman was already within a hundred rods. He had not yet
+apparently noticed the pedler's cart, so that this was in our hero's
+favor. Mr. Stubbs had already arranged his plan of operations.
+
+"This is what you are to do, Paul," said he, quickly. "Cock your hat on
+the side of your head, considerably forward, so that he can't see much
+of your face. Then here's a cigar to stick in your mouth. You can make
+believe that you are smoking. If you are the sort of boy I reckon you
+are, he'll never think it's you."
+
+Paul instantly adopted this suggestion.
+
+Slipping his hat to one side in the jaunty manner characteristic of
+young America, he began to puff very gravely at a cigar the pedler
+handed him, frequently taking it from his mouth, as he had seen older
+persons do, to knock away the ashes. Nothwithstanding his alarm, his
+love of fun made him enjoy this little stratagem, in which he bore his
+part successfully.
+
+The selectman eyed him intently. Paul began to tremble from fear of
+discovery, but his apprehensions were speedily dissipated by a remark of
+the new-comer, "My boy, you are forming a very bad habit."
+
+Paul did not dare to answer lest his voice should betray him. To his
+relief, the pedler spoke----
+
+"Just what I tell him, sir, but I suppose he thinks he must do as his
+father does."
+
+By this time the vehicles had passed each other, and the immediate peril
+was over.
+
+"Now, Paul," said his companion, laughing, "I'll trouble you for that
+cigar, if you have done with it. The old gentleman's advice was good. If
+I'd never learned to smoke, I wouldn't begin now."
+
+Our hero was glad to take the cigar from his mouth. The brief time he
+had held it was sufficient to make him slightly dizzy.
+
+
+
+
+XIII.
+
+PAUL REACHES THE CITY.
+
+
+Towards evening they drew up before a small house with a neat yard in
+front.
+
+"I guess we'll get out here," said Mr. Stubbs. "There's a gentleman
+lives here that I feel pretty well acquainted with. Shouldn't wonder if
+he'd let us stop over Sunday. Whoa, Goliah, glad to get home, hey?" as
+the horse pricked up his ears and showed manifest signs of satisfaction.
+
+"Now, youngster, follow me, and I guess I can promise you some supper,
+if Mrs. Stubbs hasn't forgotten her old tricks."
+
+They passed through the entry into the kitchen, where Mrs. Stubbs was
+discovered before the fire toasting slices of bread.
+
+"Lor, Jehoshaphat," said she, "I didn't expect you so soon," and she
+looked inquiringly at his companion.
+
+"A young friend who is going to stay with us till Monday," explained the
+pedler. "His name is Paul Prescott."
+
+"I'm glad to see you, Paul," said Mrs. Stubbs with a friendly smile.
+"You must be tired if you've been traveling far. Take a seat. Here's a
+rocking-chair for you."
+
+This friendly greeting made Paul feel quite at home. Having no children,
+the pedler and his wife exerted themselves to make the time pass
+pleasantly to their young acquaintance. Paul could not help contrasting
+them with Mr. and Mrs. Mudge, not very much to the advantage of
+the latter. On Sunday he went to church with them, and the peculiar
+circumstances in which he was placed, made him listen to the sermon with
+unusual attention. It was an exposition of the text, "My help cometh
+from the Lord," and Paul could not help feeling that it was particularly
+applicable to his own case. It encouraged him to hope, that, however
+uncertain his prospects appeared, God would help him if he put his trust
+in Him.
+
+On Monday morning Paul resumed his journey, with an ample stock of
+provisions supplied by Mrs. Stubbs, in the list of which doughnuts
+occupied a prominent place; this being at the particular suggestion of
+Mr. Stubbs.
+
+Forty or fifty miles remained to be traversed before his destination
+would be reached. The road was not a difficult one to find, and he made
+it out without much questioning. The first night, he sought permission
+to sleep in a barn.
+
+He met with a decided refusal.
+
+He was about to turn away in disappointment, when he was called back.
+
+"You are a little too fast, youngster. I said I wouldn't let you sleep
+in my barn, and I won't; but I've got a spare bed in the house, and if
+you choose you shall occupy it."
+
+Under the guise of roughness, this man had a kind heart. He inquired
+into the particulars of Paul's story, and at the conclusion terrified
+him by saying that he had been very foolish and ought to be sent back.
+Nevertheless, when Paul took leave of him the next morning, he did not
+go away empty-handed.
+
+"If you must be so foolish as to set up for yourself, take this," said
+the farmer, placing half a dollar in his hand. "You may reach the city
+after the banks are closed for the day, you know," he added, jocularly.
+
+But it was in the morning that Paul came in sight of the city. He
+climbed up into a high tree, which, having the benefit of an elevated
+situation, afforded him an extensive prospect. Before him lay the great
+city of which he had so often heard, teeming with life and activity.
+
+Half in eager anticipation, half in awe and wonder at its vastness, our
+young pilgrim stood upon the threshold of this great Babel.
+
+Everything looked new and strange. It had never entered Paul's mind,
+that there could be so many houses in the whole State as now rose up
+before him. He got into Broadway, and walked on and on thinking that
+the street must end somewhere. But the farther he walked the thicker the
+houses seemed crowded together. Every few rods, too, he came to a cross
+street, which seemed quite as densely peopled as the one on which he was
+walking. One part of the city was the same as another to Paul, since
+he was equally a stranger to all. He wandered listlessly along, whither
+fancy led. His mind was constantly excited by the new and strange
+objects which met him at every step.
+
+As he was looking in at a shop window, a boy of about his own age,
+stopped and inquired confidentially, "when did you come from the
+country?"
+
+"This morning," said Paul, wondering how a stranger should know that he
+was a country boy.
+
+"Could you tell me what is the price of potatoes up your way?" asked the
+other boy, with perfect gravity.
+
+"I don't know," said Paul, innocently.
+
+"I'm sorry for that," said the other, "as I have got to buy some for my
+wife and family."
+
+Paul stared in surprise for a moment, and then realizing that he was
+being made game of, began to grow angry.
+
+"You'd better go home to your wife and family," he said with spirit, "or
+you may get hurt."
+
+"Bully for you, country!" answered the other with a laugh. "You're not
+as green as you look."
+
+"Thank you," said Paul, "I wish I could say as much for you."
+
+Tired with walking, Paul at length sat down in a doorway, and watched
+with interest the hurrying crowds that passed before him. Everybody
+seemed to be in a hurry, pressing forward as if life and death depended
+on his haste. There were lawyers with their sharp, keen glances;
+merchants with calculating faces; speculators pondering on the chances
+of a rise or fall in stocks; errand boys with bundles under their arms;
+business men hurrying to the slip to take the boat for Brooklyn or
+Jersey City,--all seemed intent on business of some kind, even to the
+ragged newsboys who had just obtained their supply of evening papers,
+and were now crying them at the top of their voices,--and very
+discordant ones at that, so Paul thought. Of the hundreds passing and
+repassing before him, every one had something to do. Every one had a
+home to go to. Perhaps it was not altogether strange that a feeling of
+desolation should come over Paul as he recollected that he stood alone,
+homeless, friendless, and, it might be, shelterless for the coming
+night.
+
+"Yet," thought he with something of hopefulness, "there must be
+something for me to do as well as the rest."
+
+Just then a boy some two years older than Paul paced slowly by, and
+in passing, chanced to fix his eyes upon our hero. He probably saw
+something in Paul which attracted him, for he stepped up and extending
+his hand, said, "why, Tom, how came you here?"
+
+"My name isn't Tom," said Paul, feeling a little puzzled by this
+address.
+
+"Why, so it isn't. But you look just like my friend, Tom Crocker."
+
+To this succeeded a few inquiries, which Paul unsuspiciously answered.
+
+"Do you like oysters?" inquired the new-comer, after a while.
+
+"Very much."
+
+"Because I know of a tip top place to get some, just round the corner.
+Wouldn't you like some?"
+
+Paul thanked his new acquaintance, and said he would.
+
+Without more ado, his companion ushered him into a basement room near
+by. He led the way into a curtained recess, and both boys took seats one
+on each side of a small table.
+
+"Just pull the bell, will you, and tell the waiter we'll have two
+stews."
+
+Paul did so.
+
+"I suppose," continued the other, "the governor wouldn't like it much if
+he knew where I was."
+
+"The governor!" repeated Paul. "Why, it isn't against the laws, is it?"
+
+"No," laughed the other. "I mean my father. How jolly queer you are!" He
+meant to say green, but had a purpose in not offending Paul.
+
+"Are you the Governor's son?" asked Paul in amazement.
+
+"To be sure," carelessly replied the other.
+
+Paul's wonder had been excited many times in the course of the day, but
+this was more surprising than anything which had yet befallen him. That
+he should have the luck to fall in with the son of the Governor, on his
+first arrival in the city, and that the latter should prove so affable
+and condescending, was indeed surprising. Paul inwardly determined
+to mention it in his first letter to Aunt Lucy. He could imagine her
+astonishment.
+
+While he was busy with these thoughts, his companion had finished his
+oysters.
+
+"Most through?" he inquired nonchalantly.
+
+"I've got to step out a minute; wait till I come back."
+
+Paul unsuspectingly assented.
+
+He heard his companion say a word to the barkeeper, and then go out.
+
+He waited patiently for fifteen minutes and he did not return; another
+quarter of an hour, and he was still absent. Thinking he might have
+been unexpectedly detained, he rose to go, but was called back by the
+barkeeper.
+
+"Hallo, youngster! are you going off without paying?"
+
+"For what?" inquired Paul, in surprise.
+
+"For the oysters, of course. You don't suppose I give 'em away, do you?"
+
+"I thought," hesitated Paul, "that the one who was with me paid,--the
+Governor's son," he added, conscious of a certain pride in his intimacy
+with one so nearly related to the chief magistrate of the Commonwealth.
+
+"The Governor's son," laughed the barkeeper. "Why the Governor lives a
+hundred miles off and more. That wasn't the Governor's son any more than
+I am."
+
+"He called his father governor," said Paul, beginning to be afraid that
+he had made some ridiculous blunder.
+
+"Well, I wouldn't advise you to trust him again, even if he's the
+President's son. He only got you in here to pay for his oysters. He told
+me when he went out that you would pay for them."
+
+"And didn't he say he was coming back?" asked Paul, quite dumbfounded.
+
+"He said you hadn't quite finished, but would pay for both when you came
+out. It's two shillings."
+
+Paul rather ruefully took out the half dollar which constituted his
+entire stock of money, and tendered it to the barkeeper who returned him
+the change.
+
+So Paul went out into the streets, with his confidence in human nature
+somewhat lessened.
+
+Here, then, is our hero with twenty-five cents in his pocket, and his
+fortune to make.
+
+
+
+
+XIV.
+
+A STRANGE BED-CHAMBER.
+
+
+Although Paul could not help being vexed at having been so cleverly
+taken in by his late companion, he felt the better for having eaten the
+oysters. Carefully depositing his only remaining coin in his pocket, he
+resumed his wanderings. It is said that a hearty meal is a good promoter
+of cheerfulness. It was so in Paul's case, and although he had as yet
+had no idea where he should find shelter for the night he did not allow
+that consideration to trouble him.
+
+So the day passed, and the evening came on. Paul's appetite returned to
+him once more. He invested one-half of his money at an old woman's stall
+for cakes and apples, and then he ate leisurely while leaning against
+the iron railing which encircles the park.
+
+He began to watch with interest the movements of those about him.
+Already the lamplighter had started on his accustomed round, and with
+ladder in hand was making his way from one lamp-post to another. Paul
+quite marvelled at the celerity with which the lamps were lighted, never
+before having witnessed the use of gas. He was so much interested in the
+process that he sauntered along behind the lamplighter for some time. At
+length his eye fell upon a group common enough in our cities, but new to
+him.
+
+An Italian, short and dark-featured, with a velvet cap, was grinding out
+music from a hand-organ, while a woman with a complexion equally
+dark, and black sorrowful-looking eyes, accompanied her husband on the
+tambourine. They were playing a lively tune as Paul came up, but quickly
+glided into "Home, Sweet Home."
+
+Paul listened with pleased, yet sad interest, for him "home" was only a
+sad remembrance.
+
+He wandered on, pausing now and then to look into one of the brilliantly
+illuminated shop windows, or catching a glimpse through the open doors
+of the gay scene within, and as one after another of these lively scenes
+passed before him, he began to think that all the strange and wonderful
+things in the world must be collected in these rich stores.
+
+Next, he came to a place of public amusement. Crowds were entering
+constantly, and Paul, from curiosity, entered too. He passed on to a
+little wicket, when a man stopped him.
+
+"Where's your ticket?" he asked.
+
+"I haven't got any," said Paul.
+
+"Then what business have you here?" said the man, roughly.
+
+"Isn't this a meeting-house?" asked Paul.
+
+This remark seemed to amuse two boys who were standing by. Looking up
+with some indignation, Paul recognized in one of them the boy who had
+cheated him out of the oysters.
+
+"Look here," said Paul, "what made you go off and leave me to pay for
+the oysters this morning?"
+
+"Which of us do you mean?" inquired the 'governor's son,' carelessly.
+
+"I mean you."
+
+"Really, I don't understand your meaning. Perhaps you mistake me for
+somebody else."
+
+"What?" said Paul, in great astonishment. "Don't you remember me, and
+how you told me you were the Governor's son?"
+
+Both boys laughed.
+
+"You must be mistaken. I haven't the honor of being related to the
+distinguished gentleman you name."
+
+The speaker made a mocking bow to Paul.
+
+"I know that," said Paul, with spirit, "but you said you were, for all
+that."
+
+"It must have been some other good-looking boy, that you are mistaking
+me for. What are you going to do about it? I hope, by the way, that the
+oysters agreed with you."
+
+"Yes, they did," said Paul, "for I came honestly by them."
+
+"He's got you there, Gerald," said the other boy.
+
+Paul made his way out of the theater. As his funds were reduced to
+twelve cents, he could not have purchased a ticket if he had desired it.
+
+Still he moved on.
+
+Soon he came to another building, which was in like manner lighted up,
+but not so brilliantly as the theater. This time, from the appearance
+of the building, and from the tall steeple,--so tall that his eye could
+scarcely reach the tapering spire,--he knew that it must be a church.
+There was not such a crowd gathered about the door as at the place he
+had just left, but he saw a few persons entering, and he joined them.
+The interior of the church was far more gorgeous than the plain village
+meeting-house which he had been accustomed to attend with his mother. He
+gazed about him with a feeling of awe, and sank quietly into a back
+pew. As it was a week-day evening, and nothing of unusual interest was
+anticipated, there were but few present, here and there one, scattered
+through the capacious edifice.
+
+By-and-by the organist commenced playing, and a flood of music, grander
+and more solemn than he had ever heard, filled the whole edifice. He
+listened with rapt attention and suspended breath till the last note
+died away, and then sank back upon the richly cushioned seat with a
+feeling of enjoyment.
+
+In the services which followed he was not so much interested. The
+officiating clergyman delivered a long homily in a dull unimpassioned
+manner, which failed to awaken his interest. Already disposed to be
+drowsy, it acted upon him like a gentle soporific. He tried to pay
+attention as he had always been used to do, but owing to his occupying a
+back seat, and the low voice of the preacher, but few words reached him,
+and those for the most part were above his comprehension.
+
+Gradually the feeling of fatigue--for he had been walking the streets
+all day--became so powerful that his struggles to keep awake became
+harder and harder. In vain he sat erect, resolved not to yield. The
+moment afterwards his head inclined to one side; the lights began to
+swim before his eyes; the voice of the preacher subsided into a low and
+undistinguishable hum. Paul's head sank upon the cushion, his bundle,
+which had been his constant companion during the day, fell softly to the
+floor, and he fell into a deep sleep.
+
+Meanwhile the sermon came to a close, and another hymn was sung, but
+even the music was insufficient to wake our hero now. So the benediction
+was pronounced, and the people opened the doors of their pews and left
+the church.
+
+Last of all the sexton walked up and down the aisles, closing such of
+the pew doors as were open. Then he shut off the gas, and after
+looking around to see that nothing was forgotten, went out, apparently
+satisfied, and locked the outer door behind him.
+
+Paul, meanwhile, wholly unconscious of his situation, slept on as
+tranquilly as if there were nothing unusual in the circumstances in
+which he was placed. Through the stained windows the softened light fell
+upon his tranquil countenance, on which a smile played, as if his dreams
+were pleasant. What would Aunt Lucy have thought if she could have seen
+her young friend at this moment?
+
+
+
+
+XV.
+
+A TURN OF FORTUNE.
+
+Notwithstanding his singular bedchamber, Paul had a refreshing night's
+sleep from which he did not awake till the sun had fairly risen, and its
+rays colored by the medium through which they were reflected, streamed
+in at the windows and rested in many fantastic lines on the richly
+carved pulpit and luxurious pews.
+
+Paul sprang to his feet and looked around him in bewilderment.
+
+"Where am I?" he exclaimed in astonishment.
+
+In the momentary confusion of ideas which is apt to follow a sudden
+awakening, he could not remember where he was, or how he chanced to
+be there. But in a moment memory came to his aid, and he recalled the
+events of the preceding day, and saw that he must have been locked up in
+the church.
+
+"How am I going to get out?" Paul asked himself in dismay.
+
+This was the important question just now. He remembered that the village
+meeting-house which he had been accustomed to attend was rarely opened
+except on Sundays. What if this should be the case here? It was Thursday
+morning, and three days must elapse before his release. This would never
+do. He must seek some earlier mode of deliverance.
+
+He went first to the windows, but found them so secured that it was
+impossible for him to get them open. He tried the doors, but found, as
+he had anticipated, that they were fast. His last resource failing, he
+was at liberty to follow the dictates of his curiosity.
+
+Finding a small door partly open, he peeped within, and found a flight
+of steep stairs rising before him. They wound round and round, and
+seemed almost interminable. At length, after he had become almost weary
+of ascending, he came to a small window, out of which he looked. At his
+feet lay the numberless roofs of the city, while not far away his eye
+rested on thousands of masts. The river sparkled in the sun, and Paul,
+in spite of his concern, could not help enjoying the scene. The sound
+of horses and carriages moving along the great thoroughfare below came
+confusedly to his ears. He leaned forward to look down, but the distance
+was so much greater than he had thought, that he drew back in alarm.
+
+"What shall I do?" Paul asked himself, rather frightened. "I wonder if I
+can stand going without food for three days? I suppose nobody would hear
+me if I should scream as loud as I could."
+
+Paul shouted, but there was so much noise in the streets that nobody
+probably heard him.
+
+He descended the staircase, and once more found himself in the body
+of the church. He went up into the pulpit, but there seemed no hope of
+escape in that direction. There was a door leading out on one side, but
+this only led to a little room into which the minister retired before
+service.
+
+It seemed rather odd to Paul to find himself the sole occupant of so
+large a building. He began to wonder whether it would not have been
+better for him to stay in the poorhouse, than come to New York to die of
+starvation.
+
+Just at this moment Paul heard a key rattle in the outer door. Filled
+with new hope, he ran down the pulpit stairs and out into the porch,
+just in time to see the entrance of the sexton.
+
+The sexton started in surprise as his eye fell upon Paul standing before
+him, with his bundle under his arm.
+
+"Where did you come from, and how came you here?" he asked with some
+suspicion.
+
+"I came in last night, and fell asleep."
+
+"So you passed the night here?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"What made you come in at all?" inquired the sexton, who knew enough of
+boys to be curious upon this point.
+
+"I didn't know where else to go," said Paul.
+
+"Where do you live?"
+
+Paul answered with perfect truth, "I don't live anywhere."
+
+"What! Have you no home?" asked the sexton in surprise.
+
+Paul shook his head.
+
+"Where should you have slept if you hadn't come in here?"
+
+"I don't know, I'm sure."
+
+"And I suppose you don't know where you shall sleep to-night?"
+
+Paul signified that he did not.
+
+"I knew there were plenty of such cases," said the sexton, meditatively;
+"but I never seemed to realize it before."
+
+"How long have you been in New York?" was his next inquiry.
+
+"Not very long," said Paul. "I only got here yesterday."
+
+"Then you don't know anybody in the city?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Why did you come here, then?"
+
+"Because I wanted to go somewhere where I could earn a living, and I
+thought I might find something to do here."
+
+"But suppose you shouldn't find anything to do?"
+
+"I don't know," said Paul, slowly. "I haven't thought much about that."
+
+"Well, my lad," said the sexton, not unkindly, "I can't say your
+prospects look very bright. You should have good reasons for entering on
+such an undertaking. I--I don't think you are a bad boy. You don't look
+like a bad one," he added, half to himself.
+
+"I hope not, sir," said Paul.
+
+"I hope not, too. I was going to say that I wish I could help you to
+some kind of work. If you will come home with me, you shall be welcome
+to a dinner, and perhaps I may be able to think of something for you."
+
+Paul gladly prepared to follow his new acquaintance.
+
+"What is your name?" inquired the sexton.
+
+"Paul Prescott."
+
+"That sounds like a good name. I suppose you haven't got much money?"
+
+"Only twelve cents."
+
+"Bless me! only twelve cents. Poor boy! you are indeed poor."
+
+"But I can work," said Paul, spiritedly. "I ought to be able to earn my
+living."
+
+"Yes, yes, that's the way to feel. Heaven helps those who help
+themselves."
+
+When they were fairly out of the church, Paul had an opportunity of
+observing his companion's external appearance. He was an elderly man,
+with harsh features, which would have been forbidding, but for a certain
+air of benevolence which softened their expression.
+
+As Paul walked along, he related, with less of detail, the story which
+is already known to the reader. The sexton said little except in the
+way of questions designed to elicit further particulars, till, at the
+conclusion he said, "Must tell Hester."
+
+At length they came to a small house, in a respectable but not
+fashionable quarter of the city. One-half of this was occupied by the
+sexton. He opened the door and led the way into the sitting-room. It
+was plainly but neatly furnished, the only ornament being one or two
+engravings cheaply framed and hung over the mantel-piece. They were
+by no means gems of art, but then, the sexton did not claim to be a
+connoisseur, and would probably not have understood the meaning of the
+word.
+
+"Sit here a moment," said the sexton, pointing to a chair, "I'll go and
+speak to Hester."
+
+Paul whiled away the time in looking at the pictures in a copy of "The
+Pilgrim's Progress," which lay on the table.
+
+In the next room sat a woman of perhaps fifty engaged in knitting. It
+was very easy to see that she could never have possessed the perishable
+gift of beauty. Hers was one of the faces on which nature has written
+PLAIN, in unmistakable characters. Yet if the outward features had been
+a reflex of the soul within, few faces would have been more attractive
+than that of Hester Cameron. At the feet of the sexton's wife, for such
+she was, reposed a maltese cat, purring softly by way of showing her
+contentment. Indeed, she had good reason to be satisfied. In default of
+children, puss had become a privileged pet, being well fed and carefully
+shielded from all the perils that beset cat-hood.
+
+"Home so soon?" said Hester inquiringly, as her husband opened the door.
+
+"Yes, Hester, and I have brought company with me," said the sexton.
+
+"Company!" repeated his wife. "Who is it?"
+
+"It is a poor boy, who was accidentally locked up in the church last
+night."
+
+"And he had to stay there all night?"
+
+"Yes; but perhaps it was lucky for him, for he had no other place to
+sleep, and not money enough to pay for one."
+
+"Poor child!" said Hester, compassionately. "Is it not terrible to think
+that any human creature should be without the comforts of a home which
+even our tabby possesses. It ought to make you thankful that you are so
+well cared for, Tab."
+
+The cat opened her eyes and winked drowsily at her mistress.
+
+"So you brought the poor boy home, Hugh?"
+
+"Yes, Hester,--I thought we ought not to begrudge a meal to one less
+favored by fortune than ourselves. You know we should consider ourselves
+the almoners of God's bounties."
+
+"Surely, Hugh."
+
+"I knew you would feel so, Hester. And suppose we have the chicken for
+dinner that I sent in the morning. I begin to have a famous appetite. I
+think I should enjoy it."
+
+Hester knew perfectly well that it was for Paul's sake, and not for his
+own, that her husband spoke. But she so far entered into his feelings,
+that she determined to expend her utmost skill as cook upon the dinner,
+that Paul might have at least one good meal.
+
+"Now I will bring the boy in," said he. "I am obliged to go to work, but
+you will find some way to entertain him, I dare say."
+
+"If you will come out (this he said to Paul), I will introduce you to a
+new friend."
+
+Paul was kindly welcomed by the sexton's wife, who questioned him in
+a sympathizing tone about his enforced stay in the church. To all her
+questions Paul answered in a modest yet manly fashion, so as to produce
+a decidedly favorable impression upon his entertainer.
+
+Our hero was a handsome boy. Just at present he was somewhat thin, not
+having entirely recovered from the effects of his sickness and poor fare
+while a member of Mr. Mudge's family; but he was well made, and bade
+fair to become a stout boy. His manner was free and unembarrassed, and
+he carried a letter of recommendation in his face. It must be admitted,
+however that there were two points in which his appearance might have
+been improved. Both his hands and face had suffered from the dust of
+travel. His clothes, too, were full of dust.
+
+A single glance told Hester all this, and she resolved to remedy it.
+
+She quietly got some water and a towel, and requested Paul to pull off
+his jacket, which she dusted while he was performing his ablutions.
+Then, with the help of a comb to arrange his disordered hair, he seemed
+quite like a new boy, and felt quite refreshed by the operation.
+
+"Really, it improves him very much," said Hester to herself.
+
+She couldn't help recalling a boy of her own,--the only child she ever
+had,--who had been accidentally drowned when about the age of Paul.
+
+"If he had only lived," she thought, "how different might have been our
+lives."
+
+A thought came into her mind, and she looked earnestly at Paul.
+
+"I--yes I will speak to Hugh about it," she said, speaking aloud,
+unconsciously.
+
+"Did you speak to me?" asked Paul.
+
+"No,--I was thinking of something."
+
+She observed that Paul was looking rather wistfully at a loaf of bread
+on the table.
+
+"Don't you feel hungry?" she asked, kindly.
+
+"I dare say you have had no breakfast."
+
+"I have eaten nothing since yesterday afternoon."
+
+"Bless my soul! How hungry you must be!" said the good woman, as she
+bustled about to get a plate of butter and a knife.
+
+She must have been convinced of it by the rapid manner in which the
+slices of bread and butter disappeared.
+
+At one o'clock the sexton came home. Dinner was laid, and Paul partook
+of it with an appetite little affected by his lunch of the morning. As
+he rose from the table, he took his cap, and saying, "Good-by, I thank
+you very much for your kindness!" he was about to depart.
+
+"Where are you going?" asked the sexton, in surprise.
+
+"I don't know," answered Paul.
+
+"Stop a minute. Hester, I want to speak to you."
+
+They went into the sitting-room together.
+
+"This boy, Hester," he commenced with hesitation.
+
+"Well, Hugh?"
+
+"He has no home."
+
+"It is a hard lot."
+
+"Do you think we should be the worse off if we offered to share our home
+with him?"
+
+"It is like your kind heart, Hugh. Let us go and tell him."
+
+"We have been talking of you, Paul," said the sexton. "We have thought,
+Hester and myself, that as you had no home and we no child, we should
+all be the gainers by your staying with us. Do you consent?"
+
+"Consent!" echoed Paul in joyful surprise. "How can I ever repay your
+kindness?"
+
+"If you are the boy we take you for, we shall feel abundantly repaid.
+Hester, we can give Paul the little bedroom where--where John used to
+sleep."
+
+His voice faltered a little, for John was the name of his boy, who had
+been drowned.
+
+
+
+
+XVI.
+
+YOUNG STUPID.
+
+
+Paul found the sexton's dwelling very different from his last home, if
+the Poorhouse under the charge of Mr. and Mrs. Mudge deserved such a
+name. His present home was an humble one, but he was provided with every
+needful comfort, and the atmosphere of kindness which surrounded him,
+gave him a feeling of peace and happiness which he had not enjoyed for a
+long time.
+
+Paul supposed that he would be at once set to work, and even then would
+have accounted himself fortunate in possessing such a home.
+
+But Mr. Cameron had other views for him.
+
+"Are you fond of studying?" asked the sexton, as they were all three
+gathered in the little sitting room, an evening or two after Paul first
+came.
+
+"Very much!" replied our hero.
+
+"And would you like to go to school?"
+
+"What, here in New York?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Oh, very much indeed."
+
+"I am glad to hear you say so, my lad. There is nothing like a good
+education. If I had a son of my own, I would rather leave him that
+than money, for while the last may be lost, the first never can be. And
+though you are not my son, Paul, Providence has in a manner conducted
+you to me, and I feel responsible for your future. So you shall go to
+school next Monday morning, and I hope you will do yourself much credit
+there."
+
+"Thank you very much," said Paul. "I feel very grateful, but----"
+
+"You surely are not going to object?" said the sexton.
+
+"No, but----"
+
+"Well, Paul, go on," seeing that the boy hesitated.
+
+"Why," said our hero, with a sense of delicacy which did him credit,
+"If I go to school, I shall not be able to earn my board, and shall be
+living at your expense, though I have no claim upon you."
+
+"Oh, is that all?" said the sexton cheerfully, "I was afraid that it was
+something more serious. As to that, I am not rich, and never expect to
+be. But what little expense you will be will not ruin me. Besides, when
+you are grown up and doing well, you can repay me, if I ever need it."
+
+"That I will," said Paul.
+
+"Mind, if I ever need it,--not otherwise. There, now, it's a bargain on
+that condition. You haven't any other objection," seeing that Paul still
+hesitated.
+
+"No, or at least I should like to ask your advice," said Paul. "Just
+before my father died, he told me of a debt of five hundred dollars
+which he had not been able to pay. I saw that it troubled him, and I
+promised to pay it whenever I was able. I don't know but I ought to go
+to work so as to keep my promise."
+
+"No," said the sexton after a moment's reflection, "the best course will
+be to go to school, at present. Knowledge is power, and a good education
+will help you to make money by and by. I approve your resolution, my
+lad, and if you keep it resolutely in mind I have no doubt you will
+accomplish your object. But the quickest road to success is through the
+schoolroom. At present you are not able to earn much. Two or three years
+hence will be time enough."
+
+Paul's face brightened as the sexton said this. He instinctively felt
+that Mr. Cameron was right. He had never forgotten his father's dying
+injunction, and this was one reason that impelled him to run away from
+the Almshouse, because he felt that while he remained he never would
+be in a situation to carry out his father's wishes. Now his duty was
+reconciled with his pleasure, and he gratefully accepted the sexton's
+suggestions.
+
+The next Monday morning, in accordance with the arrangement which had
+just been agreed upon, Paul repaired to school. He was at once placed in
+a class, and lessons were assigned him.
+
+At first his progress was not rapid. While living in Wrenville he had
+an opportunity only of attending a country school, kept less than six
+months in the year, and then not affording advantages to be compared
+with those of a city school. During his father's sickness, besides, he
+had been kept from school altogether. Of course all this lost time could
+not be made up in a moment. Therefore it was that Paul lagged behind his
+class.
+
+There are generally some in every school, who are disposed to take
+unfair advantage of their schoolmates, or to ridicule those whom they
+consider inferior to themselves.
+
+There was one such in Paul's class. His name was George Dawkins.
+
+He was rather a showy boy, and learned easily. He might have stood a
+class above where he was, if he had not been lazy, and depended too much
+on his natural talent. As it was, he maintained the foremost rank in his
+class.
+
+"Better be the first man in a village than the second man in Rome,"
+he used to say; and as his present position not only gave him the
+pre-eminence which he desired, but cost him very little exertion to
+maintain, he was quite well satisfied with it.
+
+This boy stood first in his class, while Paul entered at the foot.
+
+He laughed unmercifully at the frequent mistakes of our hero, and
+jeeringly dubbed him, "Young Stupid."
+
+"Do you know what Dawkins calls you?" asked one of the boys.
+
+"No. What does he call me?" asked Paul, seriously.
+
+"He calls you 'Young Stupid.'"
+
+Paul's face flushed painfully. Ridicule was as painful to him as it is
+to most boys, and he felt the insult deeply.
+
+"I'd fight him if I were you," was the volunteered advice of his
+informant.
+
+"No," said Paul. "That wouldn't mend the matter. Besides, I don't know
+but he has some reason for thinking so."
+
+"Don't call yourself stupid, do you?"
+
+"No, but I am not as far advanced as most boys of my age. That isn't my
+fault, though. I never had a chance to go to school much. If I had been
+to school all my life, as Dawkins has, it would be time to find out
+whether I am stupid or not."
+
+"Then you ain't going to do anything about it?"
+
+"Yes, I am."
+
+"You said you wasn't going to fight him."
+
+"That wouldn't do any good. But I'm going to study up and see if I can't
+get ahead of him. Don't you think that will be the best way of showing
+him that he is mistaken?"
+
+"Yes, capital, but----"
+
+"But you think I can't do it, I suppose," said Paul.
+
+"You know he is at the head of the class, and you are at the foot."
+
+"I know that," said Paul, resolutely. "But wait awhile and see."
+
+In some way George Dawkins learned that Paul had expressed the
+determination to dispute his place. It occasioned him considerable
+amusement.
+
+"Halloa, Young Stupid," he called out, at recess.
+
+Paul did not answer.
+
+"Why don't you answer when you are spoken to?" he asked angrily.
+
+"When you call me by my right name," said Paul, quietly, "I will answer,
+and not before."
+
+"You're mighty independent," sneered Dawkins. "I don't know but I may
+have to teach you manners."
+
+"You had better wait till you are qualified," said Paul, coolly.
+
+Dawkins approached our hero menacingly, but Paul did not look in the
+least alarmed, and he concluded to attack him with words only.
+
+"I understand you have set yourself up as my rival!" he said, mockingly.
+
+"Not just yet," said Paul, "but in time I expect to be."
+
+"So you expect my place," said Dawkins, glancing about him.
+
+"We'll talk about that three months hence," said Paul.
+
+"Don't hurt yourself studying," sneered Dawkins, scornfully.
+
+To this Paul did not deign a reply, but the same day he rose one in his
+class.
+
+Our hero had a large stock of energy and determination. When he had once
+set his mind upon a thing, he kept steadily at work till he accomplished
+it. This is the great secret of success. It sometimes happens that a man
+who has done nothing will at once accomplish a brilliant success by one
+spasmodic effort, but such cases are extremely rare.
+
+"Slow and sure wins the race," is an old proverb that has a great deal
+of truth in it.
+
+Paul worked industriously.
+
+The kind sexton and his wife, who noticed his assiduity, strove to
+dissuade him from working so steadily.
+
+"You are working too hard, Paul," they said.
+
+"Do I look pale?" asked Paul, pointing with a smile to his red cheeks.
+
+"No, but you will before long."
+
+"When I am, I will study less. But you know, Uncle Hugh," so the sexton
+instructed him to call him, "I want to make the most of my present
+advantages. Besides, there's a particular boy who thinks I am stupid. I
+want to convince him that he is mistaken."
+
+"You are a little ambitious, then, Paul?"
+
+"Yes, but it isn't that alone. I know the value of knowledge, and I want
+to secure as much as I can."
+
+"That is an excellent motive, Paul."
+
+"Then you won't make me study less?"
+
+"Not unless I see you are getting sick."
+
+Paul took good care of this. He knew how to play as well as to study,
+and his laugh on the playground was as merry as any. His cheerful,
+obliging disposition made him a favorite with his companions. Only
+George Dawkins held out; he had, for some reason, imbibed a dislike for
+Paul.
+
+Paul's industry was not without effect. He gradually gained position in
+his class.
+
+"Take care, Dawkins," said one of his companions--the same one who had
+before spoken to Paul--"Paul Prescott will be disputing your place with
+you. He has come up seventeen places in a month."
+
+"Much good it'll do him," said Dawkins, contemptuously.
+
+"For all that, you will have to be careful; I can tell you that."
+
+"I'm not in the least afraid. I'm a little too firm in my position to be
+ousted by Young Stupid."
+
+"Just wait and see."
+
+Dawkins really entertained no apprehension. He had unbounded confidence
+in himself, and felt a sense of power in the rapidity with which he
+could master a lesson. He therefore did not study much, and though he
+could not but see that Paul was rapidly advancing, he rejected with
+scorn the idea that Young Stupid could displace him.
+
+This, however, was the object at which Paul was aiming. He had not
+forgotten the nickname which Dawkins had given him, and this was the
+revenge which he sought,--a strictly honorable one.
+
+At length the day of his triumph came. At the end of the month the
+master read off the class-list, and, much to his disgust, George Dawkins
+found himself playing second fiddle to Young Stupid.
+
+
+
+
+XVII.
+
+BEN'S PRACTICAL JOKE.
+
+
+Mrs. Mudge was in the back room, bending over a tub. It was washing-day,
+and she was particularly busy. She was a driving, bustling woman, and,
+whatever might be her faults of temper, she was at least industrious and
+energetic. Had Mr. Mudge been equally so, they would have been better
+off in a worldly point of view. But her husband was constitutionally
+lazy, and was never disposed to do more than was needful.
+
+Mrs. Mudge was in a bad humor that morning. One of the cows had got
+into the garden through a gap in the fence, and made sad havoc among the
+cabbages. Now if Mrs. Mudge had a weakness, it was for cabbages. She
+was excessively fond of them, and had persuaded her husband to set out
+a large number of plants from which she expected a large crop. They were
+planted in one corner of the garden, adjoining a piece of land, which,
+since mowing, had been used for pasturing the cows. There was a weak
+place in the fence separating the two inclosures, and this Mrs. Mudge
+had requested her husband to attend to. He readily promised this, and
+Mrs. Mudge supposed it done, until that same morning, her sharp eyes had
+detected old Brindle munching the treasured cabbages with a provoking
+air of enjoyment. The angry lady seized a broom, and repaired quickly to
+the scene of devastation. Brindle scented the danger from afar, and beat
+a disorderly retreat, trampling down the cabbages which she had hitherto
+spared. Leaping over the broken fence, she had just cleared the gap as
+the broom-handle, missing her, came forcibly down upon the rail, and was
+snapped in sunder by the blow.
+
+Here was a new vexation. Brindle had not only escaped scot-free, but the
+broom, a new one, bought only the week before, was broken.
+
+"It's a plaguy shame," said Mrs. Mudge, angrily. "There's my best broom
+broken; cost forty-two cents only last week."
+
+She turned and contemplated the scene of devastation. This yielded her
+little consolation.
+
+"At least thirty cabbages destroyed by that scamp of a cow," she
+exclaimed in a tone bordering on despair. "I wish I'd a hit her. If I'd
+broken my broom over her back I wouldn't a cared so much. And it's all
+Mudge's fault. He's the most shiftless man I ever see. I'll give him a
+dressing down, see if I don't."
+
+Mrs. Mudge's eyes snapped viciously, and she clutched the relics of the
+broom with a degree of energy which rendered it uncertain what sort of a
+dressing down she intended for her husband.
+
+Ten minutes after she had re-entered the kitchen, the luckless man made
+his appearance. He wore his usual look, little dreaming of the storm
+that awaited him.
+
+"I'm glad you've come," said Mrs. Mudge, grimly.
+
+"What's amiss, now?" inquired Mudge, for he understood her look.
+
+"What's amiss?" blazed Mrs. Mudge. "I'll let you know. Do you see this?"
+
+She seized the broken broom and flourished it in his face.
+
+"Broken your broom, have you? You must have been careless."
+
+"Careless, was I?" demanded Mrs. Mudge, sarcastically. "Yes, of course,
+it's always I that am in fault."
+
+"You haven't broken it over the back of any of the paupers, have you?"
+asked her husband, who, knowing his helpmeet's infirmity of temper,
+thought it possible she might have indulged in such an amusement.
+
+"If I had broken it over anybody's back it would have been yours," said
+the lady.
+
+"Mine! what have I been doing?"
+
+"It's what you haven't done," said Mrs. Mudge. "You're about the laziest
+and most shiftless man I ever came across."
+
+"Come, what does all this mean?" demanded Mr. Mudge, who was getting a
+little angry in his turn.
+
+"I'll let you know. Just look out of that window, will you?"
+
+"Well," said Mr. Mudge, innocently, "I don't see anything in
+particular."
+
+"You don't!" said Mrs. Mudge with withering sarcasm. "Then you'd better
+put on your glasses. If you'd been here quarter of an hour ago, you'd
+have seen Brindle among the cabbages."
+
+"Did she do any harm?" asked Mr. Mudge, hastily.
+
+"There's scarcely a cabbage left," returned Mrs. Mudge, purposely
+exaggerating the mischief done.
+
+"If you had mended that fence, as I told you to do, time and again, it
+wouldn't have happened."
+
+"You didn't tell me but once," said Mr. Mudge, trying to get up a feeble
+defence.
+
+"Once should have been enough, and more than enough. You expect me to
+slave myself to death in the house, and see to all your work besides.
+If I'd known what a lazy, shiftless man you were, at the time I married
+you, I'd have cut off my right hand first."
+
+By this time Mr. Mudge had become angry.
+
+"If you hadn't married me, you'd a died an old maid," he retorted.
+
+This was too much for Mrs. Mudge to bear. She snatched the larger half
+of the broom, and fetched it down with considerable emphasis upon
+the back of her liege lord, who, perceiving that her temper was up,
+retreated hastily from the kitchen; as he got into the yard he
+descried Brindle, whose appetite had been whetted by her previous raid,
+re-entering the garden through the gap.
+
+It was an unfortunate attempt on the part of Brindle. Mr. Mudge,
+angry with his wife, and smarting with the blow from the broomstick,
+determined to avenge himself upon the original cause of all the trouble.
+Revenge suggested craft. He seized a hoe, and crept stealthily to the
+cabbage-plot. Brindle, whose back was turned, did not perceive his
+approach, until she felt a shower of blows upon her back. Confused at
+the unexpected attack she darted wildly away, forgetting the gap in the
+fence, and raced at random over beds of vegetables, uprooting beets,
+parsnips, and turnips, while Mr. Mudge, mad with rage, followed close in
+her tracks, hitting her with the hoe whenever he got a chance.
+
+Brindle galloped through the yard, and out at the open gate. Thence she
+ran up the road at the top of her speed, with Mr. Mudge still pursuing
+her.
+
+It may be mentioned here that Mr. Mudge was compelled to chase the
+terrified cow over two miles before he succeeded with the help of a
+neighbor in capturing her. All this took time. Meanwhile Mrs. Mudge at
+home was subjected to yet another trial of her temper.
+
+It has already been mentioned that Squire Newcome was Chairman of the
+Overseers of the Poor. In virtue of his office, he was expected to
+exercise a general supervision over the Almshouse and its management.
+It was his custom to call about once a month to look after matters, and
+ascertain whether any official action or interference was needed.
+
+Ben saw his father take his gold-headed cane from behind the door, and
+start down the road. He understood his destination, and instantly the
+plan of a stupendous practical joke dawned upon him.
+
+"It'll be jolly fun," he said to himself, his eyes dancing with fun.
+"I'll try it, anyway."
+
+He took his way across the fields, so as to reach the Almshouse before
+his father. He then commenced his plan of operations.
+
+Mrs. Mudge had returned to her tub, and was washing away with bitter
+energy, thinking over her grievances in the matter of Mr. Mudge, when a
+knock was heard at the front door.
+
+Taking her hands from the tub, she wiped them on her apron.
+
+"I wish folks wouldn't come on washing day!" she said in a tone of
+vexation.
+
+She went to the door and opened it.
+
+There was nobody there.
+
+"I thought somebody knocked," thought she, a little mystified. "Perhaps
+I was mistaken."
+
+She went back to her tub, and had no sooner got her hands in the suds
+than another knock was heard, this time on the back door.
+
+"I declare!" said she, in increased vexation, "There's another knock. I
+shan't get through my washing to-day."
+
+Again Mrs. Mudge wiped her hands on her apron, and went to the door.
+
+There was nobody there.
+
+I need hardly say that it was Ben, who had knocked both times, and
+instantly dodged round the corner of the house.
+
+"It's some plaguy boy," said Mrs. Mudge, her eyes blazing with anger.
+"Oh, if I could only get hold of him!"
+
+"Don't you wish you could?" chuckled Ben to himself, as he caught a sly
+glimpse of the indignant woman.
+
+Meanwhile, Squire Newcome had walked along in his usual slow and
+dignified manner, until he had reached the front door of the Poorhouse,
+and knocked.
+
+"It's that plaguy boy again," said Mrs. Mudge, furiously. "I won't go
+this time, but if he knocks again, I'll fix him."
+
+She took a dipper of hot suds from the tub in which she had been
+washing, and crept carefully into the entry, taking up a station close
+to the front door.
+
+"I wonder if Mrs. Mudge heard me knock," thought Squire Newcome. "I
+should think she might. I believe I will knock again."
+
+This time he knocked with his cane.
+
+Rat-tat-tat sounded on the door.
+
+The echo had not died away, when the door was pulled suddenly open, and
+a dipper full of hot suds was dashed into the face of the astonished
+Squire, accompanied with, "Take that, you young scamp!"
+
+"Wh--what does all this mean?" gasped Squire Newcome, nearly strangled
+with the suds, a part of which had found its way into his mouth.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Squire Newcome," said the horrified Mrs. Mudge. "I
+didn't mean it."
+
+"What did you mean, then?" demanded Squire Newcome, sternly. "I think
+you addressed me,--ahem!--as a scamp."
+
+"Oh, I didn't mean you," said Mrs. Mudge, almost out of her wits with
+perplexity.
+
+"Come in, sir, and let me give you a towel. You've no idea how I've been
+tried this morning."
+
+"I trust," said the Squire, in his stateliest tone, "you will be able
+to give a satisfactory explanation of this, ahem--extraordinary
+proceeding."
+
+While Mrs. Mudge was endeavoring to sooth the ruffled dignity of the
+aggrieved Squire, the "young scamp," who had caused all the mischief,
+made his escape through the fields.
+
+"Oh, wasn't it bully!" he exclaimed. "I believe I shall die of laughing.
+I wish Paul had been here to see it. Mrs. Mudge has got herself into a
+scrape, now, I'm thinking."
+
+Having attained a safe distance from the Poorhouse, Ben doubled himself
+up and rolled over and over upon the grass, convulsed with laughter.
+
+"I'd give five dollars to see it all over again," he said to himself. "I
+never had such splendid fun in my life."
+
+Presently the Squire emerged, his tall dicky looking decidedly limp and
+drooping, his face expressing annoyance and outraged dignity. Mrs. Mudge
+attended him to the door with an expression of anxious concern.
+
+"I guess I'd better make tracks," said Ben to himself, "it won't do for
+the old gentleman to see me here, or he may smell a rat."
+
+He accordingly scrambled over a stone wall and lay quietly hidden behind
+it till he judged it would be safe to make his appearance.
+
+
+
+
+
+XVIII.
+
+MORE ABOUT BEN.
+
+
+"Benjamin," said Squire Newcome, two days after the occurrence mentioned
+in the last chapter, "what made the dog howl so this morning? Was you a
+doing anything to him?"
+
+"I gave him his breakfast," said Ben, innocently. "Perhaps he was
+hungry, and howling for that."
+
+"I do not refer to that," said the Squire. "He howled as if in pain or
+terror. I repeat; was you a doing anything to him?"
+
+Ben shifted from one foot to the other, and looked out of the window.
+
+"I desire a categorical answer," said Squire Newcome.
+
+"Don't know what categorical means," said Ben, assuming a perplexed
+look.
+
+"I desire you to answer me IMMEGIATELY," explained the Squire. "What was
+you a doing to Watch?"
+
+"I was tying a tin-kettle to his tail," said Ben, a little reluctantly.
+
+"And what was you a doing that for?" pursued the Squire.
+
+"I wanted to see how he would look," said Ben, glancing demurely at his
+father, out of the corner of his eye.
+
+"Did it ever occur to you that it must be disagreeable to Watch to have
+such an appendage to his tail?" queried the Squire.
+
+"I don't know," said Ben.
+
+"How should you like to have a tin pail suspended to your--ahem! your
+coat tail?"
+
+"I haven't got any coat tail," said Ben, "I wear jackets. But I think I
+am old enough to wear coats. Can't I have one made, father?"
+
+"Ahem!" said the Squire, blowing his nose, "we will speak of that at
+some future period."
+
+"Fred Newell wears a coat, and he isn't any older than I am," persisted
+Ben, who was desirous of interrupting his father's inquiries.
+
+"I apprehend that we are wandering from the question," said the Squire.
+"Would you like to be treated as you treated Watch?"
+
+"No," said Ben, slowly, "I don't know as I should."
+
+"Then take care not to repeat your conduct of this morning," said his
+father. "Stay a moment," as Ben was about to leave the room hastily. "I
+desire that you should go to the post-office and inquire for letters."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+Ben left the room and sauntered out in the direction of the post-office.
+
+A chaise, driven by a stranger, stopped as it came up with him.
+
+The driver looked towards Ben, and inquired, "Boy, is this the way to
+Sparta?"
+
+Ben, who was walking leisurely along the path, whistling as he went,
+never turned his head.
+
+"Are you deaf, boy?" said the driver, impatiently. "I want to know if
+this is the road to Sparta?"
+
+Ben turned round.
+
+"Fine morning, sir," he said politely.
+
+"I know that well enough without your telling me. Will you tell me
+whether this is the road to Sparta?"
+
+Ben put his hand to his ear, and seemed to listen attentively. Then he
+slowly shook his head, and said, "Would you be kind enough to speak a
+little louder, sir?"
+
+"The boy is deaf, after all," said the driver to himself. "IS THIS THE
+ROAD TO SPARTA?"
+
+"Yes, sir, this is Wrenville," said Ben, politely.
+
+"Plague take it! he don't hear me yet. IS THIS THE ROAD TO SPARTA?"
+
+"Just a little louder, if you please," said Ben, keeping his hand to his
+ear, and appearing anxious to hear.
+
+"Deaf as a post!" muttered the driver. "I couldn't scream any louder, if
+I should try. Go along."
+
+"Poor man! I hope he hasn't injured his voice," thought Ben, his eyes
+dancing with fun. "By gracious!" he continued a moment later, bursting
+into a laugh, "if he isn't going to ask the way of old Tom Haven. He's
+as deaf as I pretended to be."
+
+The driver had reined up again, and inquired the way to Sparta.
+
+"What did you say?" said the old man, putting his hand to his ear. "I'm
+rather hard of hearing."
+
+The traveller repeated his question in a louder voice.
+
+The old man shook his head.
+
+"I guess you'd better ask that boy," he said, pointing to Ben, who by
+this time had nearly come up with the chaise.
+
+"I have had enough of him," said the traveller, disgusted. "I believe
+you're all deaf in this town. I'll get out of it as soon as possible."
+
+He whipped up his horse, somewhat to the old man's surprise, and drove
+rapidly away.
+
+I desire my young readers to understand that I am describing Ben as he
+was, and not as he ought to be. There is no doubt that he carried his
+love of fun too far. We will hope that as he grows older, he will grow
+wiser.
+
+Ben pursued the remainder of his way to the Post-office without any
+further adventure.
+
+Entering a small building appropriated to this purpose, he inquired for
+letters.
+
+"There's nothing for your father to-day," said the post-master.
+
+"Perhaps there's something for me,--Benjamin Newcome, Esq.," said Ben.
+
+"Let me see," said the post-master, putting on his spectacles; "yes, I
+believe there is. Post-marked at New York, too. I didn't know you had
+any correspondents there."
+
+"It's probably from the Mayor of New York," said Ben, in a tone of
+comical importance, "asking my advice about laying out Central Park."
+
+"Probably it is," said the postmaster. "It's a pretty thick
+letter,--looks like an official document."
+
+By this time, Ben, who was really surprised by the reception of the
+letter, had opened it. It proved to be from our hero, Paul Prescott, and
+inclosed one for Aunt Lucy.
+
+"Mr. Crosby," said Ben, suddenly, addressing the postmaster, "you
+remember about Paul Prescott's running away from the Poorhouse?"
+
+"Yes, I didn't blame the poor boy a bit. I never liked Mudge, and they
+say his wife is worse than he."
+
+"Well, suppose the town should find out where he is, could they get him
+back again?"
+
+"Bless you! no. They ain't so fond of supporting paupers. If he's able
+to earn his own living, they won't want to interfere with him."
+
+"Well, this letter is from him," said Ben. "He's found a pleasant family
+in New York, who have adopted him."
+
+"I'm glad of it," said Mr. Crosby, heartily. "I always liked him. He was
+a fine fellow."
+
+"That's just what I think. I'll read his letter to you, if you would
+like to hear it."
+
+"I should, very much. Come in behind here, and sit down."
+
+Ben went inside the office, and sitting down on a stool, read Paul's
+letter. As our reader may be interested in the contents, we will take
+the liberty of looking over Ben's shoulder while he reads.
+
+New York, Oct. 10, 18--.
+
+DEAR BEN:--
+
+I have been intending to write to you before, knowing the kind interest
+which you take in me. I got safely to New York a few days after I left
+Wrenville. I didn't have so hard a time as I expected, having fallen in
+with a pedler, who was very kind to me, with whom I rode thirty or forty
+miles. I wish I had time to tell all the adventures I met with on the
+way, but I must wait till I see you.
+
+When I got to the city, I was astonished to find how large it was. The
+first day I got pretty tired wandering about, and strayed into a church
+in the evening, not knowing where else to go. I was so tired I fell
+asleep there, and didn't wake up till morning. When I found myself
+locked up in a great church, I was frightened, I can tell you. It was
+only Thursday morning, and I was afraid I should have to stay there
+till Sunday. If I had, I am afraid I should have starved to death. But,
+fortunately for me, the sexton came in the morning, and let me out. That
+wasn't all. He very kindly took me home with him, and then told me I
+might live with him and go to school. I like him very much, and his wife
+too. I call them Uncle Hugh and Aunt Hester. When you write to me, you
+must direct to the care of Mr. Hugh Cameron, 10 R---- Street. Then it
+will be sure to reach me.
+
+I am going to one of the city schools. At first, I was a good deal
+troubled because I was so far behind boys of my age. You know I hadn't
+been to school for a long time before I left Wrenville, on account of
+father's sickness. But I studied pretty hard, and now I stand very well.
+I sometimes think, Ben, that you don't care quite so much about study
+as you ought to. I wish you would come to feel the importance of it. You
+must excuse me saying this, as we have always been such good friends.
+
+I sometimes think of Mr. and Mrs. Mudge, and wonder whether they miss
+me much. I am sure Mr. Mudge misses me, for now he is obliged to get up
+early and milk, unless he has found another boy to do it. If he has, I
+pity the boy. Write me what they said about my going away.
+
+I inclose a letter for Aunt Lucy Lee, which I should like to have you
+give her with your own hands. Don't trust it to Mrs. Mudge, for she
+doesn't like Aunt Lucy, and I don't think she would give it to her.
+
+Write soon, Ben, and I will answer without delay, Your affectionate
+friend, PAUL PRESCOTT.
+
+
+"That's a very good letter," said Mr. Crosby; "I am glad Paul is doing
+so well. I should like to see him."
+
+"So should I," said Ben; "he was a prime fellow,--twice as good as I am.
+That's true, what he said about my not liking study. I guess I'll try to
+do better."
+
+"You'll make a smart boy if you only try," said the postmaster,
+with whom Ben was rather a favorite, in spite of his mischievous
+propensities.
+
+"Thank you," said Ben, laughing, "that's what my friend, the mayor of
+New York, often writes me. But honestly, I know I can do a good deal
+better than I am doing now. I don't know but I shall turn over a new
+leaf. I suppose I like fun a little too well. Such jolly sport as I had
+coming to the office this morning."
+
+Ben related the story of the traveller who inquired the way to Sparta,
+much to the amusement of the postmaster, who, in his enjoyment of the
+joke, forgot to tell Ben that his conduct was hardly justifiable.
+
+"Now," said Ben, "as soon as I have been home, I must go and see my
+particular friend, Mrs. Mudge. I'm a great favorite of hers," he added,
+with a sly wink.
+
+
+
+
+XIX.
+
+MRS. MUDGE'S DISCOMFITURE.
+
+
+Ben knocked at the door of the Poorhouse. In due time Mrs. Mudge
+appeared. She was a little alarmed on seeing Ben, not knowing how Squire
+Newcome might be affected by the reception she had given him on his last
+visit. Accordingly she received him with unusual politeness.
+
+"How do you do, Master Newcome?" she inquired.
+
+"As well as could be expected," said Ben, hesitatingly.
+
+"Why, is there anything the matter with you?" inquired Mrs. Mudge, her
+curiosity excited by his manner of speaking.
+
+"No one can tell what I suffer from rheumatism," said Ben, sadly.
+
+This was very true, since not even Ben himself could have told.
+
+"You are very young to be troubled in that way," said Mrs. Mudge, "and
+how is your respected father, to-day?" she inquired, with some anxiety.
+
+"I was just going to ask you, Mrs. Mudge," said Ben, "whether anything
+happened to disturb him when he called here day before yesterday?"
+
+"Why," said Mrs. Mudge, turning a little pale, "Nothing of any
+consequence,--that is, not much. What makes you ask?"
+
+"I thought it might be so from his manner," said Ben, enjoying Mrs.
+Mudge's evident alarm.
+
+"There was a little accident," said Mrs. Mudge, reluctantly. "Some
+mischievous boy had been knocking and running away; so, when your father
+knocked, I thought it might be he, and--and I believe I threw some
+water on him. But I hope he has forgiven it, as it wasn't intentional.
+I should like to get hold of that boy," said Mrs. Mudge, wrathfully, "I
+should like to shake him up."
+
+"Have you any idea who it was?" asked Ben, gravely.
+
+"No," said Mrs. Mudge, "I haven't, but I shall try to find out. Whoever
+it is, he's a scamp."
+
+"Very complimentary old lady," thought Ben. He said in a sober
+tone, which would have imposed upon any one, "There are a good many
+mischievous boys around here."
+
+Mrs. Mudge grimly assented.
+
+"Oh, by the way, Mrs. Mudge," asked Ben, suddenly, "have you ever heard
+anything of Paul Prescott since he left you?"
+
+"No," snapped Mrs. Mudge, her countenance growing dark, "I haven't. But
+I can tell pretty well where he is."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"In the penitentiary. At any rate, if he isn't, he ought to be. But what
+was you wanting?"
+
+"I want to see Mrs. Lee."
+
+"Aunt Lucy Lee?"
+
+"Yes. I've got a letter for her."
+
+"If you'll give me the letter I'll carry it to her."
+
+"Thank you," said Ben, "but I would like to see her."
+
+"Never mind," thought Mrs. Mudge, "I'll get hold of it yet. I shouldn't
+wonder at all if it was from that rascal, Paul."
+
+Poor Paul! It was fortunate that he had some better friends than Mr. and
+Mrs. Mudge, otherwise he would have been pretty poorly off.
+
+Aunt Lucy came to the door. Ben placed the letter in her hands.
+
+"Is it from Paul?" she asked, hopefully.
+
+"Yes," said Ben.
+
+She opened it eagerly. "Is he well?" she asked.
+
+"Yes, well and happy," said Ben, who treated the old lady, for whom he
+had much respect, very differently from Mrs. Mudge.
+
+"I'm truly thankful for that," said Aunt Lucy; "I've laid awake more
+than one night thinking of him."
+
+"So has Mrs. Mudge, I'm thinking," said Ben, slyly.
+
+Aunt Lucy laughed.
+
+"There isn't much love lost between them," said Aunt Lucy, smiling. "He
+was very badly treated here, poor boy."
+
+"Was he, though?" repeated Mrs. Mudge? who had been listening at the
+keyhole, but not in an audible voice. "Perhaps he will be again, if I
+get him back. I thought that letter was from Paul. I must get hold of it
+some time to-day."
+
+"I believe I must go," said Ben. "If you answer the letter, I will put
+it into the office for you. I shall be passing here to-morrow."
+
+"You are very kind," said Aunt Lucy. "I am very much obliged to you for
+bringing me this letter to-day. You can't tell how happy it makes me. I
+have been so afraid the dear boy might be suffering."
+
+"It's no trouble at all," said Ben.
+
+"She's a pretty good woman," thought he, as he left the house. "I
+wouldn't play a trick on her for a good deal. But that Mrs. Mudge is a
+hard case. I wonder what she would have said if she had known that I was
+the 'scamp' that troubled her so much Monday. If I had such a mother as
+that, by jingo, I'd run away to sea."
+
+Mrs. Mudge was bent upon reading Aunt Lucy's letter. Knowing it to be
+from Paul, she had a strong curiosity to know what had become of him.
+If she could only get him back! Her heart bounded with delight as she
+thought of the annoyances to which, in that case, she could subject him.
+It would be a double triumph over him and Aunt Lucy, against whom she
+felt that mean spite with which a superior nature is often regarded by
+one of a lower order.
+
+After some reflection, Mrs. Mudge concluded that Aunt Lucy would
+probably leave the letter in the little chest which was appropriated to
+her use, and which was kept in the room where she slept. The key of this
+chest had been lost, and although Aunt Lucy had repeatedly requested
+that a new one should be obtained, Mrs. Mudge had seen fit to pay no
+attention to her request, as it would interfere with purposes of her
+own, the character of which may easily be guessed.
+
+As she suspected, Paul's letter had been deposited in this chest.
+
+Accordingly, the same afternoon, she left her work in the kitchen in
+order to institute a search for it. As a prudent precaution, however,
+she just opened the door of the common room, to make sure that Aunt Lucy
+was at work therein.
+
+She made her way upstairs, and entering the room in which the old lady
+lodged, together with two others, she at once went to the chest and
+opened it.
+
+She began to rummage round among the old lady's scanty treasures, and at
+length, much to her joy, happened upon the letter, laid carefully away
+in one corner of the chest. She knew it was the one she sought, from the
+recent postmark, and the address, which was in the unformed handwriting
+of a boy. To make absolutely certain, she drew the letter from the
+envelope and looked at the signature.
+
+She was right, as she saw at a glance. It was from Paul.
+
+"Now I'll see what the little rascal has to say for himself," she
+muttered, "I hope he's in distress; oh, how I'd like to get hold of
+him."
+
+Mrs. Mudge began eagerly to read the letter, not dreaming of
+interruption. But she was destined to be disappointed. To account for
+this we must explain that, shortly after Mrs. Mudge looked into the
+common room, Aunt Lucy was reminded of something essential, which she
+had left upstairs. She accordingly laid down her work upon the chair in
+which she had been sitting, and went up to her chamber.
+
+Mrs. Mudge was too much preoccupied to hear the advancing steps.
+
+As the old lady entered the chamber, what was her mingled indignation
+and dismay at seeing Mrs. Mudge on her knees before _her_ chest, with
+the precious letter, whose arrival had gladdened her so much, in her
+hands.
+
+"What are you doing there, Mrs. Mudge?" she said, sternly.
+
+Mrs. Mudge rose from her knees in confusion. Even she had the grace to
+be ashamed of her conduct.
+
+"Put down that letter," said the old lady in an authoritative voice
+quite new to her.
+
+Mrs. Mudge, who had not yet collected her scattered senses, did as she
+was requested.
+
+Aunt Lucy walked hastily to the chest, and closed it, first securing the
+letter, which she put in her pocket.
+
+"I hope it will be safe, now," she said, rather contemptuously. "Ain't
+you ashamed of yourself, Mrs. Mudge?"
+
+"Ashamed of myself!" shrieked that amiable lady, indignant with herself
+for having quailed for a moment before the old lady.
+
+"What do you mean--you--you pauper?"
+
+"I may be a pauper," said Aunt Lucy, calmly, "But I am thankful to
+say that I mind my own business, and don't meddle with other people's
+chests."
+
+A red spot glowed on either cheek of Mrs. Mudge. She was trying hard to
+find some vantage-ground over the old lady.
+
+"Do you mean to say that I don't mind my business?" she blustered,
+folding her arms defiantly.
+
+"What were you at my trunk for?" said the old lady, significantly.
+
+"Because it was my duty," was the brazen reply.
+
+Mrs. Mudge had rapidly determined upon her line of defense, and thought
+it best to carry the war into the enemy's country.
+
+"Yes, I felt sure that your letter was from Paul Prescott, and as he ran
+away from my husband and me, who were his lawful guardians, it was my
+duty to take that means of finding out where he is. I knew that you were
+in league with him, and would do all you could to screen him. This is
+why I went to your chest, and I would do it again, if necessary."
+
+"Perhaps you have been before," said Aunt Lucy, scornfully. "I think
+I understand, now, why you were unwilling to give me another key.
+Fortunately there has been nothing there until now to reward your
+search."
+
+"You impudent trollop!" shrieked Mrs. Mudge, furiously.
+
+Her anger was the greater, because Aunt Lucy was entirely correct in her
+supposition that this was not the first visit her landlady had made to
+the little green chest.
+
+"I'll give Paul the worst whipping he ever had, when I get him back,"
+said Mrs. Mudge, angrily.
+
+"He is beyond your reach, thank Providence," said Aunt Lucy, whose
+equanimity was not disturbed by this menace, which she knew to be an
+idle one. "That is enough for you to know. I will take care that you
+never have another chance to see this letter. And if you ever go to my
+chest again"--
+
+"Well, ma'am, what then?"
+
+"I shall appeal for protection to 'Squire Newcome."
+
+"Hoity, toity," said Mrs. Mudge, but she was a little alarmed,
+nevertheless, as such an appeal would probably be prejudicial to her
+interest.
+
+So from time to time Aunt Lucy received, through Ben, letters from Paul,
+which kept her acquainted with his progress at school. These letters
+were very precious to the old lady, and she read them over many times.
+They formed a bright link of interest which bound her to the outside
+world, and enabled her to bear up with greater cheerfulness against the
+tyranny of Mrs. Mudge.
+
+
+
+
+XX.
+
+PAUL OBTAINS A SITUATION.
+
+
+The month after Paul Prescott succeeded in reaching the head of his
+class, George Dawkins exerted himself to rise above him. He studied
+better than usual, and proved in truth a formidable rival. But Paul's
+spirit was roused. He resolved to maintain his position if possible. He
+had now become accustomed to study, and it cost him less effort. When
+the end of the month came, there was considerable speculation in the
+minds of the boys as to the result of the rivalry. The majority had
+faith in Paul, but there were some who, remembering how long Dawkins had
+been at the head of the class, thought he would easily regain his lost
+rank.
+
+The eventful day, the first of the month, at length came, and the
+class-list was read.
+
+Paul Prescott ranked first.
+
+George Dawkins ranked second.
+
+A flush spread over the pale face of Dawkins, and he darted a malignant
+glance at Paul, who was naturally pleased at having retained his rank.
+
+Dawkins had his satellites. One of these came to him at recess, and
+expressed his regret that Dawkins had failed of success.
+
+Dawkins repelled the sympathy with cold disdain.
+
+"What do you suppose I care for the head of the class?" he demanded,
+haughtily.
+
+"I thought you had been studying for it."
+
+"Then you thought wrong. Let the sexton's son have it, if he wants it.
+It would be of no use to me, as I leave this school at the end of the
+week."
+
+"Leave school!"
+
+The boys gathered about Dawkins, curiously.
+
+"Is it really so, Dawkins?" they inquired.
+
+"Yes," said Dawkins, with an air of importance; "I shall go to a private
+school, where the advantages are greater than here. My father does not
+wish me to attend a public school any longer."
+
+This statement was made on the spur of the moment, to cover the
+mortification which his defeat had occasioned him. It proved true,
+however. On his return home, Dawkins succeeded in persuading his father
+to transfer him to a private school, and he took away his books at the
+end of the week. Had he recovered his lost rank there is no doubt that
+he would have remained.
+
+Truth to tell, there were few who mourned much for the departure of
+George Dawkins. He had never been a favorite. His imperious temper and
+arrogance rendered this impossible.
+
+After he left school, Paul saw little of him for two or three years.
+At their first encounter Paul bowed and spoke pleasantly, but Dawkins
+looked superciliously at him without appearing to know him.
+
+Paul's face flushed proudly, and afterwards he abstained from making
+advances which were likely to be repulsed. He had too much self-respect
+to submit voluntarily to such slights.
+
+Meanwhile Paul's school life fled rapidly. It was a happy time,--happy
+in its freedom from care, and happy for him, though all school boys do
+not appreciate that consideration, in the opportunities for improvement
+which it afforded. These opportunities, it is only just to Paul to say,
+were fully improved. He left school with an enviable reputation, and
+with the good wishes of his schoolmates and teachers.
+
+Paul was now sixteen years old, a stout, handsome boy, with a frank,
+open countenance, and a general air of health which formed quite a
+contrast to the appearance he presented when he left the hospitable
+mansion which Mr. Nicholas Mudge kept open at the public expense.
+
+Paul was now very desirous of procuring a situation. He felt that it was
+time he was doing something for himself. He was ambitious to relieve the
+kind sexton and his wife of some portion, at least, of the burden of his
+support.
+
+Besides, there was the legacy of debt which his father had bequeathed
+him. Never for a moment had Paul forgotten it. Never for a moment had he
+faltered in his determination to liquidate it at whatever sacrifice to
+himself.
+
+"My father's name shall be cleared," he said to himself, proudly.
+"Neither Squire Conant nor any one else shall have it in his power to
+cast reproach upon his memory."
+
+The sexton applauded his purpose.
+
+"You are quite right, Paul," he said. "But you need not feel in haste.
+Obtain your education first, and the money will come by-and-by. As long
+as you repay the amount, principal and interest, you will have done all
+that you are in honor bound to do. Squire Conant, as I understand from
+you, is a rich man, so that he will experience no hardship in waiting."
+
+Paul was now solicitous about a place. The sexton had little influence,
+so that he must depend mainly upon his own inquiries.
+
+He went into the reading-room of the Astor House every day to look over
+the advertised wants in the daily papers. Every day he noted down
+some addresses, and presented himself as an applicant for a position.
+Generally, however, he found that some one else had been before him.
+
+One day his attention was drawn to the following advertisement.
+
+
+"WANTED. A smart, active, wide-awake boy, of sixteen or seventeen, in a
+retail dry-goods store. Apply immediately at--Broadway."
+
+Paul walked up to the address mentioned. Over the door he read, "Smith &
+Thompson." This, then, was the firm that had advertised.
+
+The store ran back some distance. There appeared to be six or eight
+clerks in attendance upon quite a respectable number of customers.
+
+"Is Mr. Smith in?" inquired Paul, of the nearest clerk.
+
+"You'll find him at the lower end of the store. How many yards, ma'am?"
+
+This last was of course addressed to a customer.
+
+Paul made his way, as directed, to the lower end of the store.
+
+A short, wiry, nervous man was writing at a desk.
+
+"Is Mr. Smith in?" asked Paul.
+
+"My name; what can I do for you?" said the short man, crisply.
+
+"I saw an advertisement in the Tribune for a boy."
+
+"And you have applied for the situation?" said Mr. Smith.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"How old are you?" with a rapid glance at our hero.
+
+"Sixteen--nearly seventeen."
+
+"I suppose that means that you will be seventeen in eleven months and a
+half."
+
+"No, sir," said Paul, "I shall be seventeen in three months."
+
+"All right. Most boys call themselves a year older. What's your name?"
+
+"Paul Prescott."
+
+"P. P. Any relation to Fanny Fern?"
+
+"No, sir," said Paul, rather astonished.
+
+"Didn't know but you might be. P. P. and F. F. Where do you live?"
+
+Paul mentioned the street and number.
+
+"That's well, you are near by," said Mr. Smith. "Now, are you afraid of
+work?"
+
+"No sir," said Paul, smiling, "not much."
+
+"Well, that's important; how much wages do you expect?"
+
+"I suppose," said Paul, hesitating, "I couldn't expect very much at
+first."
+
+"Of course not; green, you know. What do you say to a dollar a week?"
+
+"A dollar a week!" exclaimed Paul, in dismay, "I hoped to get enough to
+pay for my board."
+
+"Nonsense. There are plenty of boys glad enough to come for a dollar a
+week. At first, you know. But I'll stretch a point with you, and offer
+you a dollar and a quarter. What do you say?"
+
+"How soon could I expect to have my wages advanced?" inquired our hero,
+with considerable anxiety.
+
+"Well," said Smith, "at the end of a month or two."
+
+"I'll go home and speak to my uncle about it," said Paul, feeling
+undecided.
+
+"Can't keep the place open for you. Ah, there's another boy at the
+door."
+
+"I'll accept," said Paul, jumping to a decision. He had applied in so
+many different quarters without success, that he could not make up his
+mind to throw away this chance, poor as it seemed.
+
+"When shall I come?"
+
+"Come to-morrow."
+
+"At what time, sir?"
+
+"At seven o'clock."
+
+This seemed rather early. However, Paul was prepared to expect some
+discomforts, and signified that he would come.
+
+As he turned to go away, another boy passed him, probably bent on the
+same errand with himself.
+
+Paul hardly knew whether to feel glad or sorry. He had expected at least
+three dollars a week, and the descent to a dollar and a quarter was
+rather disheartening. Still, he was encouraged by the promise of a rise
+at the end of a month or two,--so on the whole he went home cheerful.
+
+"Well, Paul, what luck to-day?" asked Mr. Cameron, who had just got home
+as Paul entered.
+
+"I've got a place, Uncle Hugh."
+
+"You have,--where?"
+
+"With Smith & Thompson, No.--Broadway."
+
+"What sort of a store? I don't remember the name."
+
+"It is a retail dry-goods store."
+
+"Did you like the looks of your future employer?"
+
+"I don't know," said Paul, hesitating, "He looked as if he might be a
+pretty sharp man in business, but I have seen others that I would rather
+work for. However, beggars mustn't be choosers. But there was one thing
+I was disappointed about."
+
+"What was that, Paul?"
+
+"About the wages."
+
+"How much will they give you?"
+
+"Only a dollar and a quarter a week, at first."
+
+"That is small, to be sure."
+
+"The most I think of, Uncle Hugh, is, that I shall still be an expense
+to you. I hoped to get enough to be able to pay my board from the
+first."
+
+"My dear boy," said the sexton, kindly, "don't trouble yourself on that
+score. It costs little more for three than for two, and the little I
+expend on your account is richly made up by the satisfaction we feel in
+your society, and your good conduct."
+
+"You say that to encourage me, Uncle Hugh," said Paul. "You have done
+all for me. I have done nothing for you."
+
+"No, Paul, I spoke the truth. Hester and I have both been happier since
+you came to us. We hope you will long remain with us. You are already as
+dear to us as the son that we lost."
+
+"Thank you, Uncle Hugh," said Paul, in a voice tremulous with feeling.
+"I will do all I can to deserve your kindness."
+
+
+
+
+XXI.
+
+SMITH AND THOMPSON'S YOUNG MAN.
+
+
+At seven o'clock the next morning Paul stood before Smith & Thompson's
+store.
+
+As he came up on one side, another boy came down on the other, and
+crossed the street.
+
+"Are you the new boy?" he asked, surveying Paul attentively.
+
+"I suppose so," said Paul. "I've engaged to work for Smith & Thompson."
+
+"All right. I'm glad to see you," said the other.
+
+This looked kind, and Paul thanked him for his welcome.
+
+"O." said the other, bursting into a laugh, "you needn't trouble
+yourself about thanking me. I'm glad you've come, because now I shan't
+have to open the store and sweep out. Just lend a hand there; I'll help
+you about taking down the shutters this morning, and to-morrow you'll
+have to get along alone."
+
+The two boys opened the store.
+
+"What's your name?" asked Paul's new acquaintance.
+
+"Paul Prescott. What is yours?"
+
+"Nicholas Benton. You may call me MR. Benton."
+
+"Mr. Benton?" repeated Paul in some astonishment.
+
+"Yes; I'm a young man now. I've been Smith & Thompson's boy till now.
+Now I'm promoted."
+
+Paul looked at MR. Benton with some amusement. That young man was
+somewhat shorter than himself, and sole proprietor of a stock of pale
+yellow hair which required an abundant stock of bear's grease to keep
+it in order. His face was freckled and expressionless. His eyebrows and
+eyelashes were of the same faded color. He was dressed, however,
+with some pretensions to smartness. He wore a blue necktie, of large
+dimensions, fastened by an enormous breast-pin, which, in its already
+tarnished splendor, suggested strong doubts as to the apparent gold
+being genuine.
+
+"There's the broom, Paul," said Mr. Benton, assuming a graceful position
+on the counter.
+
+"You'll have to sweep out; only look sharp about raising a dust, or
+Smith'll be into your wool."
+
+"What sort of a man is Mr. Smith?" asked Paul, with some curiosity.
+
+"O, he's an out and outer. Sharp as a steel trap. He'll make you toe the
+mark."
+
+"Do you like him?" asked Paul, not quite sure whether he understood his
+employer's character from the description.
+
+"I don't like him well enough to advise any of my folks to trade with
+him," said Mr. Benton.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"He'd cheat 'em out of their eye teeth if they happened to have any,"
+said the young man coolly, beginning to pick his teeth with a knife.
+
+Paul began to doubt whether he should like Mr. Smith.
+
+"I say," said Mr. Benton after a pause, "have you begun to shave yet?"
+
+Paul looked up to see if his companion were in earnest.
+
+"No," said he; "I haven't got along as far as that. Have you?"
+
+"I," repeated the young man, a little contemptuously, "of course I have.
+I've shaved for a year and a half."
+
+"Do you find it hard shaving?" asked Paul, a little slyly.
+
+"Well, my beard is rather stiff," said the late BOY, with an important
+air, "but I've got used to it."
+
+"Ain't you rather young to shave, Nicholas?" asked Paul.
+
+"Mr. Benton, if you please."
+
+"I mean, Mr. Benton."
+
+"Perhaps I was when I begun. But now I am nineteen."
+
+"Nineteen?"
+
+"Yes, that is to say, I'm within a few months of being nineteen. What do
+you think of my moustache?"
+
+"I hadn't noticed it."
+
+"The store's rather dark," muttered Mr. Benton, who seemed a little
+annoyed by this answer. "If you'll come a little nearer you can see it."
+
+Drawing near, Paul, after some trouble, descried a few scattering hairs.
+
+"Yes," said he, wanting to laugh, "I see it."
+
+"Coming on finely, isn't it?" asked Mr. Nicholas Benton, complacently.
+
+"Yes," said Paul, rather doubtfully.
+
+"I don't mind letting you into a secret," said Benton, affably, "if you
+won't mention it. I've been using some of the six weeks' stuff."
+
+"The what?" asked Paul, opening his eyes.
+
+"Haven't you heard of it?" inquired Benton, a little contemptuously.
+"Where have you been living all your life? Haven't you seen it
+advertised,--warranted to produce a full set of whiskers or moustaches
+upon the smoothest face, etc. I got some a week ago, only a dollar. Five
+weeks from now you'll see something that'll astonish you."
+
+Paul was not a little amused by his new companion, and would have
+laughed, but that he feared to offend him.
+
+"You'd better get some," said Mr. Benton. "I'll let you just try mine
+once, if you want to."
+
+"Thank you," said Paul; "I don't think I want to have a moustache just
+yet."
+
+"Well, perhaps you're right. Being a boy, perhaps it wouldn't be
+advisable."
+
+"When does Mr. Smith come in?"
+
+"Not till nine."
+
+"And the other clerks?"
+
+"About eight o'clock. I shan't come till eight, to-morrow morning."
+
+"There's one thing I should like to ask you," said Paul. "Of course you
+won't answer unless you like."
+
+"Out with it."
+
+"How much does Mr. Smith pay you?"
+
+"Ahem!" said Benton, "what does he pay you?"
+
+"A dollar and a quarter a week."
+
+"He paid me a dollar and a half to begin with."
+
+"Did he? He wanted me to come first at a dollar."
+
+"Just like him. Didn't I tell you he was an out and outer? He'll be sure
+to take you in if you will let him."
+
+"But," said Paul, anxiously, "he said he'd raise it in a month or two."
+
+"He won't offer to; you'll have to tease him. And then how much'll he
+raise it? Not more than a quarter. How much do you think I get now?"
+
+"How long have you been here?"
+
+"A year and a half."
+
+"Five dollars a week," guessed Paul.
+
+"Five! he only gives me two and a half. That is, he hasn't been paying
+me but that. Now, of course, he'll raise, as I've been promoted."
+
+"How much do you expect to get now?"
+
+"Maybe four dollars, and I'm worth ten any day. He's a mean old
+skinflint, Smith is."
+
+This glimpse at his own prospects did not tend to make Paul feel very
+comfortable. He could not repress a sigh of disappointment when he
+thought of this mortifying termination of all his brilliant prospects.
+He had long nourished the hope of being able to repay the good sexton
+for his outlay in his behalf, besides discharging the debt which his
+father had left behind him. Now there seemed to be little prospect of
+either. He had half a mind to resign his place immediately upon the
+entrance of Mr. Smith, but two considerations dissuaded him; one, that
+the sum which he was to receive, though small, would at least buy his
+clothes, and besides, he was not at all certain of obtaining another
+situation.
+
+With a sigh, therefore, he went about his duties.
+
+He had scarcely got the store ready when some of the clerks entered, and
+the business of the day commenced. At nine Mr. Smith appeared.
+
+"So you're here, Peter," remarked he, as he caught sight of our hero.
+
+"Paul," corrected the owner of that name.
+
+"Well, well, Peter or Paul, don't make much difference. Both were
+apostles, if I remember right. All ready for work, eh?"
+
+"Yes, sir," said Paul, neither very briskly nor cheerfully.
+
+"Well," said Mr. Smith, after a pause, "I guess I'll put you into the
+calico department. Williams, you may take him under your wing. And now
+Peter,--all the same, Paul,--I've got a word or two to say to you, as I
+always do to every boy who comes into my store. Don't forget what you're
+here for? It's to sell goods. Take care to sell something to every man,
+woman, and child, that comes in your way. That's the way to do business.
+Follow it up, and you'll be a rich man some day."
+
+"But suppose they don't want anything?" said Paul.
+
+"Make 'em want something," returned Smith, "Don't let 'em off without
+buying. That's my motto. However, you'll learn."
+
+Smith bustled off, and began in his nervous way to exercise a general
+supervision over all that was going on in the store. He seemed to be all
+eyes. While apparently entirely occupied in waiting upon a customer, he
+took notice of all the customers in the store, and could tell what they
+bought, and how much they paid.
+
+Paul listened attentively to the clerk under whom he was placed for
+instruction.
+
+"What's the price of this calico?" inquired a common-looking woman.
+
+"A shilling a yard, ma'am," (this was not in war times.)
+
+"It looks rather coarse."
+
+"Coarse, ma'am! What can you be thinking of? It is a superfine piece of
+goods. We sell more of it than of any other figure. The mayor's wife was
+in here yesterday, and bought two dress patterns off of it."
+
+"Did she?" asked the woman, who appeared favorably impressed by this
+circumstance.
+
+"Yes, and she promised to send her friends here after some of it. You'd
+better take it while you can get it."
+
+"Will it wash?"
+
+"To be sure it will."
+
+"Then I guess you may cut me off ten yards."
+
+This was quickly done, and the woman departed with her purchase.
+
+Five minutes later, another woman entered with a bundle of the same
+figured calico.
+
+Seeing her coming, Williams hastily slipped the remnant of the piece out
+of sight.
+
+"I got this calico here," said the newcomer, "one day last week. You
+warranted it to wash, but I find it won't. Here's a piece I've tried."
+
+She showed a pattern, which had a faded look.
+
+"You've come to the wrong store," said Williams, coolly. "You must have
+got the calico somewhere else."
+
+"No, I'm sure I got it here. I remember particularly buying it of you."
+
+"You've got a better memory than I have, then. We haven't got a piece of
+calico like that in the store."
+
+Paul listened to this assertion with unutterable surprise.
+
+"I am quite certain I bought it here," said the woman, perplexed.
+
+"Must have been the next store,--Blake & Hastings. Better go over
+there."
+
+The woman went out.
+
+"That's the way to do business," said Williams, winking at Paul.
+
+Paul said nothing, but he felt more than ever doubtful about retaining
+his place.
+
+
+
+
+XXII.
+
+MR. BENTON'S ADVENTURE.
+
+
+One evening, about a fortnight after his entrance into Smith &
+Thompson's employment, Paul was putting up the shutters, the business
+of the day being over. It devolved upon him to open and close the store,
+and usually he was the last one to go home.
+
+This evening, however, Mr. Nicholas Benton graciously remained behind
+and assisted Paul in closing the store. This was unusual, and surprised
+Paul a little. It was soon explained, however.
+
+"Good-night, Nicholas,--I mean, Mr. Benton," said Paul.
+
+"Not quite yet. I want you to walk a little way with me this evening."
+
+Paul hesitated.
+
+"Come, no backing out. I want to confide to you a very important
+secret."
+
+He looked so mysterious that Paul's curiosity was aroused, and
+reflecting that it was yet early, he took his companion's proffered arm,
+and sauntered along by his side.
+
+"What's the secret?" he asked at length, perceiving that Nicholas was
+silent.
+
+"Wait till we get to a more retired place."
+
+He turned out of Broadway into a side street, where the passers were
+less numerous.
+
+"I don't think you could guess," said the young man, turning towards our
+hero.
+
+"I don't think I could."
+
+"And yet," continued Benton, meditatively, "it is possible that you may
+have noticed something in my appearance just a little unusual, within
+the last week. Haven't you, now?"
+
+Paul could not say that he had.
+
+Mr. Benton looked a little disappointed.
+
+"Nobody can tell what has been the state of my feelings," he resumed
+after a pause.
+
+"You ain't sick?" questioned Paul, hastily.
+
+"Nothing of the sort, only my appetite has been a good deal affected.
+I don't think I have eaten as much in a week as you would in a day," he
+added, complacently.
+
+"If I felt that way I should think I was going to be sick," said Paul.
+
+"I'll let you into the secret," said Mr. Benton, lowering his voice, and
+looking carefully about him, to make sure that no one was within hearing
+distance--"I'M IN LOVE."
+
+This seemed so utterly ludicrous to Paul, that he came very near losing
+Mr. Benton's friendship forever by bursting into a hearty laugh.
+
+"I didn't think of that," he said.
+
+"It's taken away my appetite, and I haven't been able to sleep nights,"
+continued Mr. Benton, in a cheerful tone. "I feel just as Howard
+Courtenay did in the great story that's coming out in the Weekly Budget.
+You've read it, haven't you?"
+
+"I don't think I have," said Paul.
+
+"Then you ought to. It's tiptop. It's rather curious too that the lady
+looks just as Miranda does, in the same story."
+
+"How is that?"
+
+"Wait a minute, and I'll read the description."
+
+Mr. Benton pulled a paper from his pocket,--the last copy of the Weekly
+Budget,--and by the light of a street lamp read the following extract to
+his amused auditor.
+
+"Miranda was just eighteen. Her form was queenly and majestic. Tall and
+stately, she moved among her handmaidens with a dignity which
+revealed her superior rank. Her eyes were dark as night. Her luxuriant
+tresses,--there, the rest is torn off," said Mr. Benton, in a tone of
+vexation.
+
+"She is tall, then?" said Paul.
+
+"Yes, just like Miranda."
+
+"Then," said our hero, in some hesitation, "I should think she would not
+be very well suited to you."
+
+"Why not?" asked Mr. Benton, quickly.
+
+"Because," said Paul, "you're rather short, you know."
+
+"I'm about the medium height," said Mr. Benton, raising himself upon his
+toes as he spoke.
+
+"Not quite," said Paul, trying not to laugh.
+
+"I'm as tall as Mr. Smith," resumed Mr. Benton, in a tone which warned
+Paul that this was a forbidden subject. "But you don't ask me who she
+is."
+
+"I didn't know as you would be willing to tell."
+
+"I shan't tell any one but you. It's Miss Hawkins,--firm of Hawkins &
+Brewer. That is, her father belongs to the firm, not she. And Paul,"
+here he clutched our hero's arm convulsively, "I've made a declaration
+of my love, and--and----"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"She has answered my letter."
+
+"Has she?" asked Paul with some curiosity, "What did she say?"
+
+"She has written me to be under her window this evening."
+
+"Why under her window? why didn't she write you to call?"
+
+"Probably she will, but it's more romantic to say, 'be under my
+window.'"
+
+"Well, perhaps it is; only you know I don't know much about such
+things."
+
+"Of course not, Paul," said Mr. Benton; "you're only a boy, you know."
+
+"Are you going to be under her window, Nich,--I mean Mr. Benton?"
+
+"Of course. Do you think I would miss the appointment? No earthly power
+could prevent my doing it."
+
+"Then I had better leave you," said Paul, making a movement to go.
+
+"No, I want you to accompany me as far as the door. I feel--a little
+agitated. I suppose everybody does when they are in love," added Mr.
+Benton, complacently.
+
+"Well," said Paul, "I will see you to the door, but I can't stay, for
+they will wonder at home what has become of me."
+
+"All right."
+
+"Are we anywhere near the house?"
+
+"Yes, it's only in the next street," said Mr. Benton, "O, Paul, how my
+heart beats! You can't imagine how I feel!"
+
+Mr. Benton gasped for breath, and looked as if he had swallowed a fish
+bone, which he had some difficulty in getting down.
+
+"You'll know how to understand my feelings sometime, Paul," said Mr.
+Benton; "when your time comes, I will remember your service of to-night,
+and I will stand by you."
+
+Paul inwardly hoped that he should never fall in love, if it was likely
+to affect him in the same way as his companion, but he thought it best
+not to say so.
+
+By this time they had come in sight of a three-story brick house, with
+Benjamin Hawkins on the door-plate.
+
+"That's the house," said Mr. Benton, in an agitated whisper.
+
+"Is it?"
+
+"Yes, and that window on the left-hand side is the window of her
+chamber."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"She told me in the letter."
+
+"And where are you to stand?"
+
+"Just underneath, as the clock strikes nine. It must be about the time."
+
+At that moment the city clock struck nine.
+
+Mr. Benton left Paul, and crossing the street, took up his position
+beneath the window of his charmer, beginning to sing, in a thin, piping
+voice, as preconcerted between them--
+
+     "Ever of thee,
+     I'm fo-o-ondly dreaming."
+
+The song was destined never to be finished.
+
+From his post in a doorway opposite, Paul saw the window softly open. He
+could distinguish a tall female figure, doubtless Miss Hawkins herself.
+She held in her hand a pitcher of water, which she emptied with
+well-directed aim full upon the small person of her luckless admirer.
+
+The falling column struck upon his beaver, thence spreading on all
+sides. His carefully starched collar became instantly as limp as a rag,
+while his coat suffered severely from the shower.
+
+His tuneful accents died away in dismay.
+
+"Ow!" he exclaimed, jumping at least a yard, and involuntarily shaking
+himself like a dog, "who did that?"
+
+There was no answer save a low, musical laugh from the window above,
+which was involuntarily echoed by Paul.
+
+"What do you mean by laughing at me?" demanded Mr. Benton, smarting with
+mortification, as he strode across the street, trying to dry his hat
+with the help of his handkerchief, "Is this what you call friendship?"
+
+"Excuse me," gasped Paul, "but I really couldn't help it."
+
+"I don't see anything to laugh at," continued Mr. Benton, in a resentful
+tone; "because I have been subjected to unmanly persecution, you must
+laugh at me, instead of extending to me the sympathy of a friend."
+
+"I suppose you won't think of her any more," said Paul, recovering
+himself.
+
+"Think of her!" exclaimed Mr. Benton, "would you have me tear her from
+my heart, because her mercenary parent chooses to frown upon our love,
+and follow me with base persecution."
+
+"Her parent!"
+
+"Yes, it was he who threw the water upon me. But it shall not avail,"
+the young man continued, folding his arms, and speaking in a tone of
+resolution, "bolts and bars shall not keep two loving hearts asunder."
+
+"But it wasn't her father," urged Paul, perceiving that Mr. Benton was
+under a mistake.
+
+"Who was it, then?"
+
+"It was the young lady herself."
+
+"Who threw the water upon me? It is a base slander."
+
+"But I saw her."
+
+"Saw who?"
+
+"A tall young lady with black hair."
+
+"And was it she who threw the water?" asked Mr. Benton, aghast at this
+unexpected revelation.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then she did it at the command of her proud parent."
+
+Paul did not dispute this, since it seemed to comfort Mr. Benton. It is
+doubtful, however, whether the young man believed it himself, since he
+straightway fell into a fit of gloomy abstraction, and made no response
+when Paul bade him "good-night."
+
+
+
+
+
+XXIII.
+
+PAUL LOSES HIS SITUATION AND GAINS A FRIEND.
+
+
+Paul had a presentiment that he should not long remain in the employ
+of Smith & Thompson; it was not many weeks before this presentiment was
+verified.
+
+After having received such instruction as was necessary, the calico
+department was left in Paul's charge. One day a customer in turning over
+the patterns shown her took up a piece which Paul knew from complaints
+made by purchasers would not wash.
+
+"This is pretty," said she, "it is just what I have been looking for.
+You may cut me off twelve yards."
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"Wait a minute, though," interposed the lady, "will it wash?"
+
+"I don't think it will," said Paul, frankly, "there have been some
+complaints made about that."
+
+"Then I shall not want it. Let me see what else you have got."
+
+The customer finally departed, having found nothing to suit her.
+
+No sooner had she left the store than Mr. Smith called Paul.
+
+"Well, did you sell that lady anything?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"And why not?" demanded Smith, harshly.
+
+"Because she did not like any of the pieces."
+
+"Wouldn't she have ordered a dress pattern if you had not told her the
+calico would not wash?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I suppose so," said Paul, preparing for a storm.
+
+"Then why did you tell her?" demanded his employer, angrily.
+
+"Because she asked me."
+
+"Couldn't you have told her that it would wash?"
+
+"That would not have been the truth," said Paul, sturdily.
+
+"You're a mighty conscientious young man," sneered Smith, "You're
+altogether too pious to succeed in business. I discharge you from my
+employment."
+
+"Very well, sir," said Paul, his heart sinking, but keeping up a brave
+exterior, "then I have only to bid you good-morning."
+
+"Good-morning, sir," said his employer with mock deference, "I advise
+you to study for the ministry, and no longer waste your talents in
+selling calico."
+
+Paul made no reply, but putting on his cap walked out of the store. It
+was the middle of the week, and Mr. Smith was, of course, owing him a
+small sum for his services; but Paul was too proud to ask for his money,
+which that gentleman did not see fit to volunteer.
+
+"I am sure I have done right," thought Paul. "I had no right to
+misrepresent the goods to that lady. I wonder what Uncle Hugh will say."
+
+"You did perfectly right," said the sexton, after Paul had related the
+circumstances of his dismissal. "I wouldn't have had you act differently
+for twenty situations. I have no doubt you will get a better position
+elsewhere."
+
+"I hope so," said Paul. "Now that I have lost the situation, Uncle Hugh,
+I don't mind saying that I never liked it."
+
+Now commenced a search for another place. Day after day Paul went out,
+and day after day he returned with the same want of success.
+
+"Never mind, Paul," said the sexton encouragingly. "When you do succeed,
+perhaps you'll get something worth waiting for."
+
+One morning Paul went out feeling that something was going to
+happen,--he didn't exactly know what,--but he felt somehow that there
+was to be a change in his luck. He went out, therefore, with more
+hopefulness than usual; yet, when four o'clock came, and nothing had
+occurred except failure and disappointment, which unhappily were not
+at all out of the ordinary course, Paul began to think that he was very
+foolish to have expected anything.
+
+He was walking listlessly along a narrow street, when, on a sudden, he
+heard an exclamation of terror, of which, on turning round, he easily
+discovered the cause.
+
+Two spirited horses, attached to an elegant carriage, had been terrified
+in some way, and were now running at the top of their speed.
+
+There was no coachman on the box; he had dismounted in order to ring
+at some door, when the horses started. He was now doing his best to
+overtake the horses, but in a race between man and horse, it is easy to
+predict which will have the advantage.
+
+There seemed to be but one person in the carriage. It was a lady,--whose
+face, pale with terror, could be seen from the carriage window. Her
+loud cries of alarm no doubt terrified the horses still more, and, by
+accelerating their speed, tended to make matters worse.
+
+Paul was roused from a train of despondent reflections by seeing the
+horses coming up the street. He instantly comprehended the whole danger
+of the lady's situation.
+
+Most boys would have thought of nothing but getting out of the way, and
+leaving the carriage and its inmate to their fate. What, indeed, could a
+boy do against a pair of powerful horses, almost beside themselves with
+fright?
+
+But our hero, as we have already had occasion to see, was brave and
+self-possessed, and felt an instant desire to rescue the lady, whose
+glance of helpless terror, as she leaned her head from the window, he
+could see. Naturally quickwitted, it flashed upon him that the only way
+to relieve a horse from one terror, was to bring another to bear upon
+him.
+
+With scarcely a moment's premeditation, he rushed out into the middle of
+the street, full in the path of the furious horses, and with his cheeks
+pale, for he knew his danger, but with determined air, he waved his arms
+aloft, and cried "Whoa!" at the top of his voice.
+
+The horses saw the sudden movement. They saw the boy standing directly
+in front of them. They heard the word of command to which they had been
+used, and by a sudden impulse, relieved from the blind terror which had
+urged them on, they stopped suddenly, and stood still in the middle of
+the street, still showing in their quivering limbs the agitation through
+which they had passed.
+
+Just then the coachman, panting with his hurried running, came up and
+seized them by the head.
+
+"Youngster," said he, "you're a brave fellow. You've done us a good
+service to-day. You're a pretty cool hand, you are. I don't know what
+these foolish horses would have done with the carriage if it had not
+been for you."
+
+"Let me get out," exclaimed the lady, not yet recovered from her fright.
+
+"I will open the door," said Paul, observing that the coachman was fully
+occupied in soothing the horses.
+
+He sprang forward, and opening the door of the carriage assisted the
+lady to descend.
+
+She breathed quickly.
+
+"I have been very much frightened," she said; "and I believe I have been
+in very great danger. Are you the brave boy who stopped the horses?"
+
+Paul modestly answered in the affirmative.
+
+"And how did you do it? I was so terrified that I was hardly conscious
+of what was passing, till the horses stopped."
+
+Paul modestly related his agency in the matter.
+
+The lady gazed at his flushed face admiringly.
+
+"How could you have so much courage?" she asked. "You might have been
+trampled to death under the hoofs of the horses."
+
+"I didn't think of that. I only thought of stopping the horses."
+
+"You are a brave boy. I shudder when I think of your danger and mine. I
+shall not dare to get into the carriage again this afternoon."
+
+"Allow me to accompany you home?" said Paul, politely.
+
+"Thank you; I will trouble you to go with me as far as Broadway, and
+then I can get into an omnibus."
+
+She turned and addressed some words to the coachman, directing him to
+drive home as soon as the horses were quieted, adding that she would
+trust herself to the escort of the young hero, who had rescued her from
+the late peril.
+
+"You're a lucky boy," thought John, the coachman. "My mistress is one
+that never does anything by halves. It won't be for nothing that you
+have rescued her this afternoon."
+
+As they walked along, the lady, by delicate questioning, succeeded in
+drawing from our hero his hopes and wishes for the future. Paul, who
+was of a frank and open nature, found it very natural to tell her all he
+felt and wished.
+
+"He seems a remarkably fine boy," thought the lady to herself. "I should
+like to do something for him."
+
+They emerged into Broadway.
+
+"I will detain you a little longer," said the lady; "and perhaps trouble
+you with a parcel."
+
+"I shall be very glad to take it," said Paul politely.
+
+Appleton's bookstore was close at hand. Into this the lady went,
+followed by her young companion.
+
+A clerk advanced, and inquired her wishes.
+
+"Will you show me some writing-desks?"
+
+"I am going to purchase a writing-desk for a young friend of mine," she
+explained to Paul; "as he is a boy, like yourself, perhaps you can guide
+me in the selection."
+
+"Certainly," said Paul, unsuspiciously.
+
+Several desks were shown. Paul expressed himself admiringly of one made
+of rosewood inlaid with pearl.
+
+"I think I will take it," said the lady.
+
+The price was paid, and the desk was wrapped up.
+
+"Now," said Mrs. Danforth, for this proved to be her name, "I will
+trouble you, Paul, to take the desk for me, and accompany me in the
+omnibus, that is, if you have no other occupation for your time."
+
+"I am quite at leisure," said Paul. "I shall be most happy to do so."
+
+Paul left the lady at the door of her residence in Fifth Avenue, and
+promised to call on his new friend the next day.
+
+He went home feeling that, though he had met with no success in
+obtaining a place, he had been very fortunate in rendering so important
+a service to a lady whose friendship might be of essential service to
+him.
+
+
+
+
+XXIV.
+
+PAUL CALLS ON MRS. DANFORTH.
+
+
+"Mrs. Edward Danforth," repeated the sexton, on hearing the story of
+Paul's exploit.
+
+"Why, she attends our church."
+
+"Do you know Mr. Danforth?" asked Paul, with interest.
+
+"Only by sight. I know him by reputation, however."
+
+"I suppose he is very rich."
+
+"Yes, I should judge so. At any rate, he is doing an extensive
+business."
+
+"What is his business?"
+
+"He is a merchant."
+
+"A merchant," thought Paul; "that is just what I should like to be, but
+I don't see much prospect of it."
+
+"How do you like Mrs. Danforth?" inquired the sexton.
+
+"Very much," said Paul, warmly. "She was very kind, and made me feel
+quite at home in her company."
+
+"I hope she may be disposed to assist you. She can easily do so, in her
+position."
+
+The next day Paul did not as usual go out in search of a situation.
+His mind was occupied with thoughts of his coming interview with Mrs.
+Danforth, and he thought he would defer his business plans till the
+succeeding day.
+
+At an early hour in the evening, he paused before an imposing residence
+on Fifth Avenue, which he had seen but not entered the day previous.
+
+He mounted the steps and pulled the bell.
+
+A smart-looking man-servant answered his ring.
+
+"Is Mrs. Danforth at home?" asked Paul.
+
+"Yes, I believe so."
+
+"I have called to see her."
+
+"Does she expect you?" asked the servant, looking surprised.
+
+"Yes; I come at her appointment," said Paul.
+
+"Then I suppose it's all right," said the man. "Will you come in?" he
+asked, a little doubtfully.
+
+Paul followed him into the house, and was shown into the drawing-room,
+the magnificence of which somewhat dazzled his eyes; accustomed only to
+the plain sitting-room of Mr. Cameron.
+
+The servant reappeared after a brief absence, and with rather more
+politeness than he had before shown, invited Paul to follow him to a
+private sitting-room upstairs, where he would see Mrs. Danforth.
+
+Looking at Paul's plain, though neat clothes, the servant was a little
+puzzled to understand what had obtained for Paul the honor of being on
+visiting terms with Mrs. Danforth.
+
+"Good evening, Paul," said Mrs. Danforth, rising from her seat and
+welcoming our hero with extended hand. "So you did not forget your
+appointment."
+
+"There was no fear of that," said Paul, with his usual frankness. "I
+have been looking forward to coming all day."
+
+"Have you, indeed?" said the lady with a pleasant smile.
+
+"Then I must endeavor to make your visit agreeable to you. Do you
+recognize this desk?"
+
+Upon a table close by, was the desk which had been purchased the day
+previous, at Appleton's.
+
+"Yes," said Paul, "it is the one you bought yesterday. I think it is
+very handsome."
+
+"I am glad you think so. I think I told you that I intended it for a
+present. I have had the new owner's name engraved upon it."
+
+Paul read the name upon the plate provided for the purpose. His face
+flushed with surprise and pleasure. That name was his own.
+
+"Do you really mean it for me," he asked.
+
+"If you will accept it," said Mrs. Danforth, smiling.
+
+"I shall value it very much," said Paul, gratefully. "And I feel very
+much indebted to your kindness."
+
+"We won't talk of indebtedness, for you remember mine is much the
+greater. If you will open the desk you will find that it is furnished
+with what will, I hope, prove of use to you."
+
+The desk being opened, proved to contain a liberal supply of stationery,
+sealing wax, postage stamps, and pens.
+
+Paul was delighted with his new present, and Mrs. Danforth seemed to
+enjoy the evident gratification with which it inspired him.
+
+"Now," said she, "tell me a little about yourself. Have you always lived
+in New York?"
+
+"Only about three years," said Paul.
+
+"And where did you live before?"
+
+"At Wrenville, in Connecticut."
+
+"I have heard of the place. A small country town, is it not?"
+
+Paul answered in the affirmative.
+
+"How did you happen to leave Wrenville, and come to New York?"
+
+Paul blushed, and hesitated a moment.
+
+"I ran away," he said at length, determined to keep nothing back.
+
+"Ran away! Not from home, I hope."
+
+"I had no home," said Paul, soberly. "I should never have left there, if
+my father had not died. Then I was thrown upon the world. I was sent
+to the Poorhouse. I did not want to go, for I thought I could support
+myself."
+
+"That is a very honorable feeling. I suppose you did not fare very well
+at the Poorhouse."
+
+In reply, Paul detailed some of the grievances to which he had been
+subjected. Mrs. Danforth listened with sympathizing attention.
+
+"You were entirely justified in running away," she said, as he
+concluded. "I can hardly imagine so great a lack of humanity as these
+people showed. You are now, I hope, pleasantly situated?"
+
+"Yes," said Paul, "Mr. and Mrs. Cameron treat me with as great kindness
+as if I were their own child."
+
+"Cameron! Is not that the name of the sexton of our church?" said Mrs.
+Danforth, meditatively.
+
+"It is with him that I have a pleasant home."
+
+"Indeed, I am glad to hear it. You have been attending school, I
+suppose."
+
+"Yes, it is not more than two months since I left off school."
+
+"And now I suppose you are thinking of entering upon some business."
+
+"Yes; I have been trying to obtain a place in some merchant's
+counting-room."
+
+"You think, then, that you would like the career of a merchant?"
+
+"There is nothing that would suit me better."
+
+"You have not succeeded in obtaining a place yet, I suppose?"
+
+"No. They are very difficult to get, and I have no influential friends
+to assist me."
+
+"I have heard Mr. Danforth say that he experienced equal difficulty when
+he came to New York, a poor boy."
+
+Paul looked surprised.
+
+"I see that you are surprised," said Mrs. Danforth, smiling. "You think,
+perhaps, judging from what you see, that my husband was always rich. But
+he was the son of a poor farmer, and was obliged to make his own way in
+the world. By the blessing of God, he has been prospered in business and
+become rich. But he often speaks of his early discouragements and small
+beginnings. I am sorry he is not here this evening. By the way, he left
+word for you to call at his counting-room to-morrow, at eleven o'clock.
+I will give you his address."
+
+She handed Paul a card containing the specified number, and soon
+after he withdrew, bearing with him his handsome gift, and a cordial
+invitation to repeat his call.
+
+He looked back at the elegant mansion which he had just left, and could
+not help feeling surprised that the owner of such a palace, should have
+started in life with no greater advantages than himself.
+
+
+
+
+XXV.
+
+AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.
+
+
+Paul slept late the next morning. He did not hear the breakfast-bell,
+and when the sexton came up to awaken him he rubbed his eyes with
+such an expression of bewilderment that Mr. Cameron could not forbear
+laughing.
+
+"You must have had queer dreams, Paul," said he.
+
+"Yes, Uncle Hugh," said Paul, laughing, "I believe I have."
+
+"When you have collected your wits, which at present seem absent on
+a wool-gathering expedition, perhaps you will tell what you have been
+dreaming about."
+
+"So I will," said Paul, "and perhaps you can interpret it for me. I
+dreamed that I was back again at Mr. Mudge's, and that he sent me out
+into the field to dig potatoes. I worked away at the first hill, but
+found no potatoes. In place of them were several gold pieces. I picked
+them up in great surprise, and instead of putting them into the basket,
+concluded to put them in my pocket. But as all the hills turned out
+in the same way I got my pockets full, and had to put the rest in the
+basket. I was just wondering what they would do for potatoes, when all
+at once a great dog came up and seized me by the arm----"
+
+"And you opened your eyes and saw me," said the sexton, finishing out
+his narrative.
+
+"Upon my word, that's very complimentary to me. However, some of our
+potatoes have escaped transformation into gold pieces, but I am afraid
+you will find them rather cold if you don't get down to breakfast pretty
+quick."
+
+"All right, Uncle Hugh. I'll be down in a jiffy."
+
+About half-past ten Paul started on his way to Mr. Danforth's
+counting-room. It was located on Wall Street, as he learned from the
+card which had been given him by Mrs. Danforth. He felt a little awkward
+in making this call. It seemed as if he were going to receive thanks for
+the service which he had rendered, and he felt that he had already been
+abundantly repaid. However, he was bound in courtesy to call, since he
+did so at the request of Mrs. Danforth.
+
+It was a large stone building, divided up into offices, to which Paul
+had been directed. Mr. Danforth's office he found after a little search,
+upon the second floor.
+
+He opened the door with a little embarrassment, and looked about him.
+
+In one corner was a small room, used as a more private office, the door
+of which was closed. In the larger room the only one whom he saw, was
+a boy, apparently about his own age, who was standing at a desk and
+writing.
+
+This boy looked around as Paul entered, and he at once recognized in him
+an old acquaintance.
+
+"George Dawkins!" he exclaimed in surprise.
+
+The latter answered in a careless indifferent tone, not exhibiting any
+very decided pleasure at meeting his old schoolmate.
+
+"Oh, it's you, Prescott, is it?"
+
+"Yes," said Paul, "I haven't met you since you left our school."
+
+"No, I believe we have not met," said Dawkins, in the same tone as
+before.
+
+"How long have you been in this office?" asked our hero.
+
+"I really can't say," said Dawkins, not looking up.
+
+"You can't say!"
+
+"No, I'm rather forgetful."
+
+Paul could not help feeling chilled at the indifferent manner in which
+his advances were met. He had been really glad to see Dawkins, and had
+addressed him with cordiality. He could not conceal from himself that
+Dawkins did not seem inclined to respond to it.
+
+"Still," thought Paul, extenuatingly, "perhaps that is his way."
+
+As the conversation began to flag, Paul was reminded of his errand by
+Dawkins saying, in a tone which was half a sneer, "Have you any business
+with Mr. Danforth this morning, or did you merely come in out of
+curiosity?"
+
+"I have called to see Mr. Danforth," said Paul.
+
+"He is usually pretty busy in the morning," said Dawkins.
+
+"He directed me to call in the morning," said Paul, sturdily.
+
+"Oh, indeed!" said Dawkins, a little surprised. "I wonder," he thought,
+"what business this fellow can have with Mr. Danforth. Can he be fishing
+for a place?"
+
+"Mr. Danforth is engaged with a visitor just now," he at length
+condescended to say; "if your time is not too valuable to wait, you can
+see him by-and-by."
+
+"Thank you," said Paul, rather nettled, "you are very polite."
+
+To this Dawkins made no reply, but resumed his pen, and for the next ten
+minutes seemed entirely oblivious of Paul's presence.
+
+Our hero took up the morning paper, and began, as he had so often done
+before, to look over the list of wants, thinking it possible he might
+find some opening for himself.
+
+About ten minutes later the door of the inner office opened, and two
+gentlemen came out. One was a gentleman of fifty, a business friend of
+Mr. Danforth's, the other was Mr. Danforth himself.
+
+The former remarked, on seeing Paul, "Is this your son, Danforth?"
+
+"No," said the merchant, nodding in a friendly manner to Paul.
+
+"That's a good joke," thought Dawkins, chuckling to himself; "Mr.
+Danforth must be immensely flattered at having a sexton's adopted son
+taken for his."
+
+After a final word or two on business matters, and arrangements for
+another interview, the visitor departed, and Mr. Danforth, now at
+leisure, turned to Paul.
+
+"Now my lad," he said kindly, "if you will follow me, we shall have a
+chance to talk a little."
+
+Paul followed the merchant into his office, the door of which was
+closed, much to the regret of Dawkins, who had a tolerably large share
+of curiosity, and was very anxious to find out what business Paul could
+possibly have with his employer.
+
+"Take that seat, if you please;" said Mr. Danforth, motioning Paul to
+an arm-chair, and sitting down himself, "Mrs. Danforth told me from how
+great a peril you rescued her. You are a brave boy."
+
+"I don't know," said Paul, modestly, "I didn't think of the danger. If I
+had, perhaps I should have hesitated."
+
+"If you had not been brave you would have thought of your own risk. My
+wife and myself are under very great obligations to you."
+
+"That more than repays me for all I did," said Paul, in a tone of
+mingled modesty and manliness.
+
+"I like the boy," thought Mr. Danforth; "he is certainly quite superior
+to the common run."
+
+"Have you left school?" he inquired, after a pause.
+
+"Yes, sir. Last term closed my school life."
+
+"Then you have never been in a situation."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Indeed! Before you left school?"
+
+"No, sir, since."
+
+"You did not like it, then?"
+
+"No, sir," said Paul.
+
+"And was that the reason of your leaving?"
+
+"No, sir; my employer was not satisfied with me," said Paul, frankly.
+
+"Indeed! I am surprised to hear this! If you have no objection, will you
+tell me the circumstances?"
+
+Paul related in a straightforward manner the difficulty he had had with
+Smith & Thompson.
+
+"I hope you don't think I did wrong," he concluded.
+
+"By no means," said Mr. Danforth, warmly. "Your conduct was entirely
+creditable. As for Smith, I know of him. He is a sharper. It would have
+done you no good to remain in his employ."
+
+Paul was pleased with this commendation. He had thought it possible that
+his dismissal from his former situation might operate against him with
+the merchant.
+
+"What are your present plans and wishes?" asked Mr. Danforth, after a
+slight pause.
+
+"I should like to enter a merchant's counting-room," said Paul, "but as
+such places are hard to get, I think I shall try to get into a store."
+
+Mr. Danforth reflected a moment, then placing a piece of paper before
+our hero, he said, "Will you write your name and address on this piece
+of paper, that I may know where to find you, in case I hear of a place?"
+
+Paul did as directed. He had an excellent handwriting, a point on which
+the merchant set a high value.
+
+The latter surveyed the address with approval, and said, "I am glad you
+write so excellent a hand. It will be of material assistance to you in
+securing a place in a counting-room. Indeed, it has been already, for I
+have just thought of a place which I can obtain for you."
+
+"Can you, sir?" said Paul, eagerly.
+
+"Where is it?"
+
+"In my own counting-room," said Mr. Danforth, smiling.
+
+"I am very much obliged to you," said Paul, hardly believing his ears.
+
+"I was prepared to give it to you when you came in, in case I found you
+qualified. The superiority of your handwriting decides me. When can you
+come?"
+
+"To-morrow, if you like, sir."
+
+"I like your promptness. As it is the middle of the week, however, you
+may take a vacation till Monday. Your salary will begin to-morrow."
+
+"Thank you, sir."
+
+"I will give you five dollars per week at first, and more as your
+services become more valuable. Will that be satisfactory?"
+
+"I shall feel rich, sir. Mr. Smith only gave me a dollar and a quarter."
+
+"I hope you will find other differences between me and Mr. Smith," said
+the merchant, smiling.
+
+These preliminaries over, Mr. Danforth opened the door, and glancing
+at Dawkins, said, "Dawkins, I wish you to become acquainted with your
+fellow clerk, Paul Prescott."
+
+Dawkins looked surprised, and anything but gratified as he responded
+stiffly, "I have the honor of being already acquainted with Mr.
+Prescott."
+
+"He is a little jealous of an interloper," thought Mr. Danforth,
+noticing the repellent manner of young Dawkins. "Never mind, they will
+get acquainted after awhile."
+
+When George Dawkins went home to dinner, his father observed the
+dissatisfied look he wore.
+
+"Is anything amiss, my son?" he inquired.
+
+"I should think there was," grumbled his son.
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"We've got a new clerk, and who do you think it is?"
+
+"Who is it?"
+
+"The adopted son of old Cameron, the sexton."
+
+"Indeed," said Mrs. Dawkins. "I really wonder at Mr. Danforth's bad
+taste. There are many boys of genteel family, who would have been glad
+of the chance. This boy is a low fellow of course."
+
+"Certainly," said her son, though he was quite aware that this was not
+true.
+
+"What could have brought the boy to Danforth's notice?" asked Dawkins,
+senior.
+
+"I don't know, I'm sure. The boy has managed to get round him in some
+way. He is very artful."
+
+"I really think, husband, that you ought to remonstrate with Mr.
+Danforth about taking such a low fellow into his counting-room with our
+George."
+
+"Pooh!" said Mr. Dawkins, who was a shade more sensible than his wife,
+"he'd think me a meddler."
+
+"At any rate, George," pursued his mother, "there's one thing that is
+due to your family and bringing up,--not to associate with this low
+fellow any more than business requires."
+
+"I certainly shall not," said George, promptly.
+
+He was the worthy son of such a mother.
+
+
+
+
+XXVI.
+
+A VULGAR RELATION.
+
+
+At the end of the first week, Paul received five dollars, the sum which
+the merchant had agreed to pay him for his services. With this he felt
+very rich. He hurried home, and displayed to the sexton the crisp bank
+note which had been given him.
+
+"You will soon be a rich man, Paul," said Mr. Cameron, with a benevolent
+smile, returning the bill.
+
+"But I want you to keep it, Uncle Hugh."
+
+"Shall I put it in the Savings Bank, for you, Paul?"
+
+"I didn't mean that. You have been supporting me--giving me board and
+clothes--for three years. It is only right that you should have what I
+earn."
+
+"The offer is an honorable one on your part, Paul," said the sexton;
+"but I don't need it. If it will please you, I will take two dollars
+a week for your board, now, and out of the balance you may clothe
+yourself, and save what you can."
+
+This arrangement seemed to be a fair one. Mr. Cameron deposited the five
+dollar note in his pocket-book, and passed one of three dollars to Paul.
+This sum our hero deposited the next Monday morning, in a savings bank.
+He estimated that he could clothe himself comfortably for fifty dollars
+a year. This would leave him one hundred towards the payment of the debt
+due to Squire Conant.
+
+"By-and-by my salary will be raised," thought Paul. "Then I can save
+more."
+
+He looked forward with eager anticipation to the time when he should be
+able to redeem his father's name, and no one would be entitled to cast
+reproach upon his memory.
+
+He endeavored to perform his duties faithfully in the office, and to
+learn as rapidly as he could the business upon which he had entered.
+He soon found that he must depend mainly upon himself. George Dawkins
+seemed disposed to afford him no assistance, but repelled scornfully
+the advances which Paul made towards cordiality. He was by no means as
+faithful as Paul, but whenever Mr. Danforth was absent from the office,
+spent his time in lounging at the window, or reading a cheap novel, with
+one of which he was usually provided.
+
+When Paul became satisfied that Dawkins was not inclined to accept his
+overtures, he ceased to court his acquaintance, and confined himself to
+his own desk.
+
+One day as he was returning from dinner, he was startled by an
+unceremonious slap upon the shoulder.
+
+Looking up in some surprise, he found that this greeting had come from a
+man just behind him, whose good-humored face and small, twinkling eyes,
+he at once recognized.
+
+"How do you do, Mr. Stubbs?" inquired Paul, his face lighting up with
+pleasure.
+
+"I'm so's to be round. How be you?" returned the worthy pedler, seizing
+our hero's hand and shaking it heartily.
+
+Mr. Stubbs was attired in all the glory of a blue coat with brass
+buttons and swallow tails.
+
+"When did you come to New York?" asked Paul.
+
+"Just arrived; that is, I got in this mornin'. But I say, how you've
+grown. I shouldn't hardly have known you."
+
+"Shouldn't you, though?" said Paul, gratified as most boys are, on being
+told that he had grown. "Have you come to the city on business?"
+
+"Well, kinder on business, and kinder not. I thought I'd like to have a
+vacation. Besides, the old lady wanted a silk dress, and she was sot on
+havin' it bought in York. So I come to the city."
+
+"Where are you stopping, Mr. Stubbs?"
+
+"Over to the Astor House. Pretty big hotel, ain't it?"
+
+"Yes, I see you are traveling in style."
+
+"Yes, I suppose they charge considerable, but I guess I can stand it. I
+hain't been drivin' a tin-cart for nothin' the last ten years.
+
+"How have you been enjoying yourself since you arrived?"
+
+"Oh, pretty well. I've been round seeing the lions, and came pretty near
+seeing the elephant at one of them Peter Funk places."
+
+"You did! Tell me about it."
+
+"You see I was walkin' along when a fellow came out of one of them
+places, and asked me if I wouldn't go in. I didn't want to refuse such
+a polite invitation, and besides I had a curiosity to see what there was
+to be seen, so I went in. They put up a silver watch, I could see that
+it was a good one, and so I bid on it. It ran up to eight dollars and
+a quarter. I thought it was a pity it should go off so cheap, so I bid
+eight and a half."
+
+"'Eight and a half and sold,' said the man; 'shall I put it up for you?"
+
+"'No, I thank you,' said I, 'I'll take it as it is.'
+
+"'But I'll put it up in a nice box for you,' said he.
+
+"I told him I didn't care for the box. He seemed very unwilling to let
+it go, but I took it out of his hand and he couldn't help himself. Well,
+when they made out the bill, what do you suppose they charged?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Why, eighteen and a half."
+
+"'Look here,' said I, 'I guess here's something of a mistake. You've got
+ten dollars too much.'
+
+"'I think you must be mistaken,' said he, smiling a foxy smile.
+
+"'You know I am not,' said I, rather cross.
+
+"We can't let that watch go for any thing shorter,' said he, coolly.
+
+"Just then a man that was present stepped up and said, 'the man is
+right; don't attempt to impose upon him.'
+
+"With that he calmed right down. It seems it was a policeman who was
+sent to watch them, that spoke. So I paid the money, but as I went out
+I heard the auctioneer say that the sale was closed for the day. I
+afterwards learned that if I had allowed them to put the watch in a box,
+they would have exchanged it for another that was only plated."
+
+"Do you know anybody in the city?" asked Paul.
+
+"I've got some relations, but I don't know where they live."
+
+"What is the name?" asked Paul, "we can look into the directory."
+
+"The name is Dawkins," answered the pedler.
+
+"Dawkins!" repeated Paul, in surprise.
+
+"Yes, do you happen to know anybody of the name?"
+
+"Yes, but I believe it is a rich family."
+
+"Well, so are my relations," said Jehoshaphat. "You didn't think
+Jehoshaphat Stubbs had any rich relations, did you? These, as I've heard
+tell, hold their heads as high as anybody."
+
+"Perhaps I may be mistaken," said Paul.
+
+"What is the name--the Christian name, I mean--of your relation?"
+
+"George."
+
+"It must be he, then. There is a boy of about my own age of that name.
+He works in the same office."
+
+"You don't say so! Well, that is curious, I declare. To think that I
+should have happened to hit upon you so by accident too."
+
+"How are you related to them?" inquired Paul.
+
+"Why, you see, I'm own cousin to Mr. Dawkins. His father and my mother
+were brother and sister."
+
+"What was his father's business?" asked Paul.
+
+"I don't know what his regular business was, but he was a sexton in some
+church."
+
+This tallied with the account Paul had received from Mr. Cameron, and
+he could no longer doubt that, strange as it seemed, the wealthy Mr.
+Dawkins was own cousin to the pedler.
+
+"Didn't you say the boy was in the same office with you, Paul?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, I've a great mind to go and see him, and find out where his
+father lives. Perhaps I may get an invite to his house."
+
+"How shocked Dawkins will be!" thought Paul, not, it must be confessed,
+without a feeling of amusement. He felt no compunction in being the
+instrument of mortifying the false pride of his fellow clerk, and
+he accordingly signified to Mr. Stubbs that he was on his way to the
+counting-room.
+
+"Are you, though? Well, I guess I'll go along with you. Is it far off?"
+
+"Only in the next street."
+
+The pedler, it must be acknowledged, had a thoroughly countrified
+appearance. He was a genuine specimen of the Yankee,--a long, gaunt
+figure, somewhat stooping, and with a long aquiline nose. His dress has
+already been described.
+
+As Dawkins beheld him entering with Paul, he turned up his nose in
+disgust at what he considered Paul's friend.
+
+What was his consternation when the visitor, approaching him with
+a benignant smile, extended his brown hand, and said, "How d'ye do,
+George? How are ye all to hum?"
+
+Dawkins drew back haughtily.
+
+"What do you mean?" he said, pale with passion.
+
+"Mr. Dawkins," said Paul, with suppressed merriment, "allow me to
+introduce your cousin, Mr. Stubbs."
+
+"Jehoshaphat Stubbs," explained that individual. "Didn't your father
+never mention my name to you?"
+
+"Sir," said Dawkins, darting a furious glance at Paul, "you are entirely
+mistaken if you suppose that any relationship exists between me and
+that--person."
+
+"No, it's you that are mistaken," said Mr. Stubbs, persevering, "My
+mother was Roxana Jane Dawkins. She was own sister to your grandfather.
+That makes me and your father cousins Don't you see?"
+
+"I see that you are intending to insult me," said Dawkins, the more
+furiously, because he began to fear there might be some truth in the
+man's claims. "Mr. Prescott, I leave you to entertain your company
+yourself."
+
+And he threw on his hat and dashed out of the counting-room.
+
+"Well," said the pedler, drawing a long breath, "that's cool,--denyin'
+his own flesh and blood. Rather stuck up, ain't he?"
+
+"He is, somewhat," said Paul; "if I were you, I shouldn't be disposed to
+own him as a relation."
+
+"Darned ef I will!" said Jehoshaphat sturdily; "I have some pride, ef I
+am a pedler. Guess I'm as good as he, any day."
+
+
+
+
+XXVII.
+
+MR. MUDGE'S FRIGHT.
+
+
+Squire Newcome sat in a high-backed chair before the fire with his heels
+on the fender. He was engaged in solemnly perusing the leading editorial
+in the evening paper, when all at once the table at his side gave a
+sudden lurch, the lamp slid into his lap, setting the paper on fire,
+and, before the Squire realized his situation, the flames singed his
+whiskers, and made his face unpleasantly warm.
+
+"Cre-a-tion!" he exclaimed, jumping briskly to his feet.
+
+The lamp had gone out, so that the cause of the accident remained
+involved in mystery. The Squire had little trouble in conjecturing,
+however, that Ben was at the bottom of it.
+
+Opening the door hastily, he saw, by the light in the next room, that
+young gentleman rising from his knees in the immediate vicinity of the
+table.
+
+"Ben-ja-min," said the Squire, sternly,
+
+"What have you been a-doing?"
+
+Ben looked sheepish, but said nothing.
+
+"I repeat, Benjamin, what have you been a-doing?"
+
+"I didn't mean to," said Ben.
+
+"That does not answer my interrogatory. What have you been a-doing?"
+
+"I was chasing the cat," said Ben, "and she got under the table. I
+went after her, and somehow it upset. Guess my head might have knocked
+against the legs."
+
+"How old are you, Benjamin?"
+
+"Fifteen."
+
+"A boy of fifteen is too old to play with cats. You may retire to your
+dormitory."
+
+"It's only seven o'clock, father," said Ben, in dismay.
+
+"Boys that play with cats are young enough to retire at seven," remarked
+the Squire, sagaciously.
+
+There was nothing for Ben but to obey.
+
+Accordingly with reluctant steps he went up to his chamber and went
+to bed. His active mind, together with the early hour, prevented his
+sleeping. Instead, his fertile imagination was employed in devising
+some new scheme, in which, of course, fun was to be the object attained.
+While he was thinking, one scheme flashed upon him which he at once
+pronounced "bully."
+
+"I wish I could do it to-night," he sighed.
+
+"Why can't I?" he thought, after a moment's reflection.
+
+The more he thought of it, the more feasible it seemed, and at length he
+decided to attempt it.
+
+Rising from his bed he quickly dressed himself, and then carefully took
+the sheet, and folding it up in small compass put it under his arm.
+
+Next, opening the window, he stepped out upon the sloping roof of the
+ell part, and slid down to the end where he jumped off, the height not
+being more than four feet from the ground. By some accident, a tub of
+suds was standing under the eaves, and Ben, much to his disgust, jumped
+into it.
+
+"Whew!" exclaimed he, "I've jumped into that plaguy tub. What possessed
+Hannah to put it in a fellow's way?"
+
+At this moment the back door opened, and Hannah called out, in a shrill
+voice, "Who's there?" Ben hastily hid himself, and thought it best not
+to answer.
+
+"I guess 'twas the cat," said Hannah, as she closed the door.
+
+"A two-legged cat," thought Ben, to himself; "thunder, what sopping wet
+feet I've got. Well, it can't be helped."
+
+With the sheet still under his arm, Ben climbed a fence and running
+across the fields reached the fork of the road. Here he concealed
+himself under a hedge, and waited silently till the opportunity for
+playing his practical joke arrived.
+
+I regret to say that Mr. Mudge, with whom we have already had
+considerable to do, was not a member of the temperance society.
+Latterly, influenced perhaps by Mrs. Mudge's tongue, which made his home
+far from a happy one, he had got into the habit of spending his
+evenings at the tavern in the village, where he occasionally indulged
+in potations that were not good for him. Generally, he kept within the
+bounds of moderation, but occasionally he exceeded these, as he had done
+on the present occasion.
+
+Some fifteen minutes after Ben had taken his station, he saw, in the
+moonlight, Mr. Mudge coming up the road, on his way home. Judging from
+his zigzag course, he was not quite himself.
+
+Ben waited till Mr. Mudge was close at hand, when all at once he started
+from his place of concealment completely enveloped in the sheet with
+which he was provided. He stood motionless before the astounded Mudge.
+
+"Who are you?" exclaimed Mudge, his knees knocking together in terror,
+clinging to an overhanging branch for support.
+
+There was no answer.
+
+"Who are you?" he again asked in affright.
+
+"Sally Baker," returned Ben, in as sepulchral a voice as he could
+command.
+
+Sally Baker was an old pauper, who had recently died. The name occurred
+to Ben on the spur of the moment. It was with some difficulty that he
+succeeded in getting out the name, such was his amusement at Mr. Mudge's
+evident terror.
+
+"What do you want of me?" inquired Mudge, nervously.
+
+"You half starved me when I was alive," returned Ben, in a hollow voice,
+"I must be revenged."
+
+So saying he took one step forward, spreading out his arms. This was too
+much for Mr. Mudge. With a cry he started and ran towards home at the
+top of his speed, with Ben in pursuit.
+
+"I believe I shall die of laughing," exclaimed Ben, pausing out of
+breath, and sitting down on a stone, "what a donkey he is, to be sure,
+to think there are such things as ghosts. I'd like to be by when he
+tells Mrs. Mudge."
+
+After a moment's thought, Ben wrapped up the sheet, took it under his
+arm, and once more ran in pursuit of Mr. Mudge.
+
+Meanwhile Mrs. Mudge was sitting in the kitchen of the Poorhouse,
+mending stockings. She was not in the pleasantest humor, for one of the
+paupers had managed to break a plate at tea-table (if that can be called
+tea where no tea is provided), and trifles were sufficient to ruffle
+Mrs. Mudge's temper.
+
+"Where's Mudge, I wonder?" she said, sharply; "over to the tavern, I
+s'pose, as usual. There never was such a shiftless, good-for-nothing
+man. I'd better have stayed unmarried all the days of my life than have
+married him. If he don't get in by ten, I'll lock the door, and it shall
+stay locked. 'Twill serve him right to stay out doors all night."
+
+Minutes slipped away, and the decisive hour approached.
+
+"I'll go to the door and look out," thought Mrs. Mudge, "if he ain't
+anywhere in sight I'll fasten the door."
+
+She laid down her work and went to the door.
+
+She had not quite reached it when it was flung open violently, and Mr.
+Mudge, with a wild, disordered look, rushed in, nearly overturning his
+wife, who gazed at him with mingled anger and astonishment.
+
+"What do you mean by this foolery, Mudge?" she demanded, sternly.
+
+"What do I mean?" repeated her husband, vaguely.
+
+"I needn't ask you," said his wife, contemptuously. "I see how it is,
+well enough. You're drunk!"
+
+"Drunk!"
+
+"Yes, drunk; as drunk as a beast."
+
+"Well, Mrs. Mudge," hiccoughed her husband, in what he endeavored to
+make a dignified tone, "you'd be drunk too if you'd seen what I've
+seen."
+
+"And what have you seen, I should like to know?" said Mrs. Mudge.
+
+Mudge rose with some difficulty, steadied himself on his feet, and
+approaching his wife, whispered in a tragic tone, "Mrs. Mudge, I've seen
+a sperrit."
+
+"It's plain enough that you've seen spirit," retorted his wife. "'Tisn't
+many nights that you don't, for that matter. You ought to be ashamed of
+yourself, Mudge."
+
+"It isn't that," said her husband, shaking his hand, "it's a sperrit,--a
+ghost, that I've seen."
+
+"Indeed!" said Mrs. Mudge, sarcastically, "perhaps you can tell whose it
+is."
+
+"It was the sperrit of Sally Baker," said Mudge, solemnly.
+
+"What did she say?" demanded Mrs. Mudge, a little curiously.
+
+"She said that I--that we, half starved her, and then she started to run
+after me--and--oh, Lordy, there she is now!"
+
+Mudge jumped trembling to his feet. Following the direction of his
+outstretched finger, Mrs. Mudge caught a glimpse of a white figure
+just before the window. I need hardly say that it was Ben, who had just
+arrived upon the scene.
+
+Mrs. Mudge was at first stupefied by what she saw, but being a woman
+of courage she speedily recovered herself, and seizing the broom
+from behind the door, darted out in search of the "spirit." But Ben,
+perceiving that he was discovered, had disappeared, and there was
+nothing to be seen.
+
+"Didn't I tell you so?" muttered Mudge, as his wife re-entered, baffled
+in her attempt, "you'll believe it's a sperrit, now."
+
+"Go to bed, you fool!" retorted his wife.
+
+This was all that passed between Mr. and Mrs. Mudge on the subject. Mr.
+Mudge firmly believes, to this day, that the figure which appeared to
+him was the spirit of Sally Baker.
+
+
+
+
+XXVIII.
+
+HOW BEN GOT HOME.
+
+
+Delighted with the complete success of his practical joke, Ben took his
+way homeward with the sheet under his arm. By the time he reached his
+father's house it was ten o'clock. The question for Ben to consider now
+was, how to get in. If his father had not fastened the front door he
+might steal in, and slip up stairs on tiptoe without being heard.
+This would be the easiest way of overcoming the difficulty, and Ben,
+perceiving that the light was still burning in the sitting-room, had
+some hopes that he would be able to adopt it. But while he was only
+a couple of rods distant he saw the lamp taken up by his father, who
+appeared to be moving from the room.
+
+"He's going to lock the front door," thought Ben, in disappointment; "if
+I had only got along five minutes sooner."
+
+From his post outside he heard the key turn in the lock.
+
+The 'Squire little dreamed that the son whom he imagined fast asleep in
+his room was just outside the door he was locking.
+
+"I guess I'll go round to the back part of the house," thought Ben,
+"perhaps I can get in the same way I came out."
+
+Accordingly he went round and managed to clamber upon the roof, which
+was only four feet from the ground. But a brief trial served to convince
+our young adventurer that it is a good deal easier sliding down a roof
+than it is climbing up. The shingles being old were slippery, and though
+the ascent was not steep, Ben found the progress he made was very much
+like that of a man at the bottom of a well, who is reported as falling
+back two feet for every three that he ascended. What increased the
+difficulty of his attempt was that the soles of his shoes were well
+worn, and slippery as well as the shingles.
+
+"I never can get up this way," Ben concluded, after several fruitless
+attempts; "I know what I'll do," he decided, after a moment's
+perplexity; "I'll pull off my shoes and stockings, and then I guess I
+can get along better."
+
+Ben accordingly got down from the roof, and pulled off his shoes and
+stockings. As he wanted to carry these with him, he was at first
+a little puzzled by this new difficulty. He finally tied the shoes
+together by the strings and hung them round his neck. He disposed of the
+stockings by stuffing one in each pocket.
+
+"Now," thought Ben, "I guess I can get along better. I don't know what
+to do with the plaguy sheet, though."
+
+But necessity is the mother of invention, and Ben found that he could
+throw the sheet over his shoulders, as a lady does with her shawl. Thus
+accoutered he recommenced the ascent with considerable confidence.
+
+He found that his bare feet clung to the roof more tenaciously than
+the shoes had done, and success was already within his grasp, when an
+unforeseen mishap frustrated his plans. He had accomplished about three
+quarters of the ascent when all at once the string which united the
+shoes which he had hung round his neck gave way, and both fell with a
+great thump on the roof. Ben made a clutch for them in which he lost his
+own hold, and made a hurried descent in their company, alighting with
+his bare feet on some flinty gravel stones, which he found by no means
+agreeable.
+
+"Ow!" ejaculated Ben, limping painfully, "them plaguy gravel stones
+hurt like thunder. I'll move 'em away the first thing to-morrow. If that
+confounded shoe-string hadn't broken I'd have been in bed by this time."
+
+Meanwhile Hannah had been sitting over the kitchen fire enjoying a
+social chat with a "cousin" of hers from Ireland, a young man whom
+she had never seen or heard of three months before. In what way he had
+succeeded in convincing her of the relationship I have never been able
+to learn, but he had managed to place himself on familiar visiting terms
+with the inmate of 'Squire Newcome's kitchen.
+
+"It's only me cousin, sir," Hannah explained to the 'Squire, when he
+had questioned her on the subject; "he's just from Ireland, sir, and it
+seems like home to see him."
+
+On the present occasion Tim Flaherty had outstayed his usual time, and
+was still in the kitchen when Ben reached home. They did not at first
+hear him, but when he made his last abortive attempt, and the shoes came
+clattering down, they could not help hearing.
+
+"What's that?" asked Hannah, listening attentively.
+
+She went to the door to look out, her cousin following.
+
+There was nothing to be seen.
+
+"Perhaps you was dramin' Hannah," said Tim, "more by token, it's time we
+was both doin' that same, so I'll bid you good-night."
+
+"Come again soon, Tim," said Hannah, preparing to close the door.
+
+A new plan of entrance flashed upon Ben.
+
+He quickly put on his shoes and stockings, unfolded the sheet and
+prepared to enact the part of a ghost once more,--this time for the
+special benefit of Hannah.
+
+After fully attiring himself he came to the back door which Hannah had
+already locked, and tapped three times.
+
+Hannah was engaged in raking out the kitchen fire.
+
+"Sure it's Tim come back," thought she, as she went to the door.
+"Perhaps he's forgotten something."
+
+She opened the door unsuspiciously, fully expecting to see her Irish
+cousin standing before her.
+
+What was her terror on beholding a white-robed figure, with extended
+arms.
+
+"Howly virgin, defend me!" she exclaimed, in paralyzing terror, which
+was increased by a guttural sound which proceeded from the throat of
+the ghost, who at the same time waved his arms aloft, and made a step
+towards Hannah.
+
+Hannah, with a wild howl dropped the lamp and fed towards the
+sitting-room, where 'Squire Newcome was still sitting.
+
+Ben sped upstairs at the top of his speed, dashed into his own chamber,
+spread the sheet on the bed, and undressed so rapidly that he seemed
+only to shake his clothes off, and jumped into bed. He closed his eyes
+and appeared to be in a profound slumber.
+
+Hannah's sudden appearance in the sitting-room in such a state naturally
+astonished the 'Squire.
+
+"What's the matter?" he demanded of the affrighted servant.
+
+"Oh, sir," she gasped, "I'm almost kilt entirely."
+
+"Are you?" said the 'Squire, "you appear to be more frightened than
+hurt."
+
+"Yes, sir, shure I am frightened, which indeed I couldn't help it, sir,
+for I never saw a ghost before in all my life."
+
+"A ghost! What nonsense are you talking, Hannah?"
+
+"Shure it's not nonsense, for it's just now that the ghost came to the
+door, sir, and knocked, and I went to the door thinking it might be me
+cousin, who's been passing the evening with me, when I saw a great white
+ghost, ten foot tall, standing forninst me."
+
+"Ten feet tall?"
+
+"Yes, sir, and he spread out his arms and spoke in a terrible voice, and
+was going to carry me off wid him, but I dropped the lamp, and O sir,
+I'm kilt entirely."
+
+"This is a strange story," said 'Squire Newcome, rather suspiciously; "I
+hope you have not been drinking."
+
+Hannah protested vehemently that not a drop of liquor had passed her
+lips, which was true.
+
+"I'll go out and hunt for the ghost," said the 'Squire.
+
+"Oh, don't sir. He'll carry you off," said Hannah, terrified.
+
+"Nonsense!" exclaimed the 'Squire. "Follow me, or you may stay here if
+you are frightened."
+
+This Hannah would by no means do, since the 'Squire had taken the lamp
+and she would be left in the dark.
+
+Accordingly she followed him with a trembling step, as he penetrated
+through the kitchen into the back room, ready to run at the least alarm.
+
+The back-door was wide open, but nothing was to be seen of the ghost.
+
+"Perhaps the ghost's up-stairs," said Hannah, "I can't sleep up there
+this night, shure."
+
+But something had attracted Squire Newcome's attention. It was quite
+muddy out of doors, and Ben had tracked in considerable mud with him.
+The footprints were very perceptible on the painted floor.
+
+"The ghost seems to have had muddy shoes," said the 'Squire dryly; "I
+guess I can find him."
+
+He followed the tracks which witnessed so strongly against Ben, to whose
+chamber they led.
+
+Ben, though still awake, appeared to be in a profound slumber.
+
+"Ben-ja-min!" said his father, stooping over the bed.
+
+There was no answer.
+
+"Ben-ja-min!" repeated his father, giving him a shake, "what does all
+this mean?"
+
+"What?" inquired Ben, opening his eyes, and looking very innocent.
+
+"Where have you been, to-night?"
+
+"You sent me to bed," said Ben, "and I came."
+
+But the 'Squire was not to be deceived. He was already in possession
+of too much information to be put off. So Ben, who with all his love
+of mischief was a boy of truth, finally owned up everything. His father
+said very little, but told him the next morning that he had made up his
+mind to send him to a military boarding-school, where the discipline was
+very strict. Ben hardly knew whether to be glad or sorry, but finally,
+as boys like change and variety, came to look upon his new prospects
+with considerable cheerfulness.
+
+
+
+
+XXIX.
+
+DAWKINS IN DIFFICULTIES.
+
+
+George Dawkins was standing at his desk one morning, when a man entered
+the office, and stepping up to him, unceremoniously tapped him on the
+shoulder.
+
+Dawkins turned. He looked extremely annoyed on perceiving his visitor,
+whose outward appearance was certainly far from prepossessing. His face
+exhibited unmistakable marks of dissipation, nor did the huge breast
+pin and other cheap finery which he wore conceal the fact of his intense
+vulgarity. His eyes were black and twinkling, his complexion very dark,
+and his air that of a foreigner. He was, in fact, a Frenchman, though
+his language would hardly have betrayed him, unless, as sometimes, he
+chose to interlard his discourse with French phrases.
+
+"How are you this morning, my friend?" said the newcomer.
+
+"What are you here for?" asked Dawkins, roughly.
+
+"That does not seem to me a very polite way of receiving your friends."
+
+"Friends!" retorted Dawkins, scornfully, "who authorized you to call
+yourself my friend?"
+
+"Creditor, then, if it will suit you better, mon ami."
+
+"Hush," said Dawkins, in an alarmed whisper, "he will hear," here he
+indicated Paul with his finger.
+
+"And why should I care? I have no secrets from the young man."
+
+"Stop, Duval," exclaimed Dawkins, in an angry whisper, "Leave the office
+at once. Your appearing here will injure me."
+
+"But I am not your friend; why should I care?" sneered Duval.
+
+"Listen to reason. Leave me now, and I will meet you when and where you
+will."
+
+"Come, that sounds better."
+
+"Now go. I'm afraid Mr. Danforth will be in."
+
+"If he comes, introduce me."
+
+Dawkins would like to have knocked the fellow over.
+
+"Name your place and time, and be quick about it," said he impatiently.
+
+"Eight o'clock this evening, you know where," was the answer.
+
+"Very well. Good-morning."
+
+"Mind you bring some money."
+
+"Good-morning," returned Dawkins, angrily.
+
+At length, much to his relief, Duval left the office. Dawkins stole a
+side glance at Paul, to see what impression the interview had made upon
+him, but our hero, who had overheard some portions of the dialogue,
+perceiving that Dawkins wished it to be private, took as little notice
+of the visitor as possible. He could not help thinking, however, that
+Duval was a man whose acquaintance was likely to be of little benefit to
+his fellow clerk.
+
+Throughout the day Dawkins appeared unusually nervous, and made several
+blunders which annoyed Mr. Danforth. Evidently he had something on his
+mind. Not to keep the reader in suspense, George had fallen among bad
+companions, where he had learned both to drink and to gamble. In this
+way he had made the acquaintance of Duval, an unscrupulous sharper, who
+had contrived to get away all his ready money, and persuading him to
+play longer in the hope of making up his losses had run him into debt
+one hundred and fifty dollars. Dawkins gave him an acknowledgment of
+indebtedness to that amount. This of course placed him in Duval's power,
+since he knew of no means of raising such a sum. He therefore kept out
+of the Frenchman's way, avoiding the old haunts where he would have been
+likely to meet him. Dawkins supposed Duval ignorant of the whereabouts
+of his employer's counting-room. So he had been, but he made it his
+business to ascertain where it was. He had no idea of losing sight of so
+valuable a prize.
+
+Dawkins would willingly have broken the appointment he had made with
+Duval, but he did not dare to do so. He knew that the man was well
+able to annoy him, and he would not on any account have had the affair
+disclosed to his father or Mr. Danforth.
+
+As Trinity clock struck eight, he entered a low bar-room in the
+neighborhood of the docks.
+
+A young man with pale, sandy hair stood behind the counter with his
+sleeves rolled up. He was supplying the wants of a sailor who already
+appeared to have taken more drink than was good for him.
+
+"Good evening, Mr. Dawkins," said he, "you're a stranger."
+
+"Is Duval in?" inquired Dawkins, coldly. His pride revolted at the place
+and company. He had never been here but once before, having met Duval
+elsewhere.
+
+"He's up in his room. John show the young gentleman up to No. 9. Won't
+you have a glass of something this evening?"
+
+"No," said Dawkins, abruptly.
+
+The boy preceded him up a dark and dirty staircase.
+
+"That's the room, sir," he said.
+
+"Stop a minute," said Dawkins, "he may not be in."
+
+He inwardly hoped he might not. But Duval answered his knock by coming
+to the door himself.
+
+"Delighted to see you, mon ami. John, may leave the lamp. That's all,
+unless Mr. Dawkins wishes to order something."
+
+"I want nothing," said Dawkins.
+
+"They have some capital brandy."
+
+"I am not in the mood for drinking tonight."
+
+"As you please," said the Frenchman, disappointed; "be seated."
+
+Dawkins sat down in a wooden rocking-chair, minus an arm.
+
+"Well," said Duval, "how much money have you brought me?"
+
+"None."
+
+The Frenchman frowned and stroked his mustache, fiercely.
+
+"What does all this mean? Are you going to put me off longer?"
+
+"I would pay it if I could," said Dawkins, "but I haven't got the
+money."
+
+"You could get it."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Ask your father."
+
+"My father would rave if he knew that I had lost money in such a way."
+
+"But you need not tell him."
+
+"If I ask for money, he will be sure to ask what I want it for."
+
+"Tell him you want clothes, or a watch, or a hundred things."
+
+Dawkins shook his head; "it won't do," said he. "He wouldn't give me a
+hundred and fifty dollars."
+
+"Then ask seventy-five, and I will wait a month for the rest."
+
+"Look here, Duval, you have no rightful claim to this money. You've got
+enough out of me. Just tear up the paper."
+
+Duval laughed scornfully, "Aha, Mr. Dawkins," he said, "that would be
+a very pretty arrangement FOR YOU. But I don't see how it is going to
+benefit me. No, no, I can't afford to throw away a hundred and fifty
+dollars so easily. If I was a rich man like your father it would make a
+difference."
+
+"Then you won't remit the debt," said Dawkins, sullenly.
+
+"You would think me a great ninny, if I did."
+
+"Then you may collect it the best way you can."
+
+"What do you mean by that?" demanded the Frenchman, his face darkening.
+
+"I mean what I say," said Dawkins, desperately, "Gambling debts are not
+recognizable in law."
+
+"Nothing is said about it's being a gambling debt. I have your note."
+
+"Which is worth nothing, since I am a minor."
+
+Duval's face became black with rage.
+
+"Aha, my friend," said he showing his teeth, "this is a very nice game
+to cheat me out of my money. But it won't do, it won't do."
+
+"Why won't it?"
+
+"I shall say a word in your father's ear, mon ami, and in the ear of
+your worthy employer whom you were so anxious for me not to see, and
+perhaps that would be worse for you than to pay me my money."
+
+Dawkins's brief exultation passed away. He saw that he was indeed in the
+power of an unscrupulous man, who was disposed to push his advantage to
+the utmost.
+
+He subsided into a moody silence, which Duval watched with satisfaction.
+
+"Well, my friend, what will you do about it?"
+
+"I don't know what I can do."
+
+"You will think of something. You will find it best," said the
+Frenchman, in a tone which veiled a threat.
+
+"I will try," said Dawkins, gloomily.
+
+"That is well. I thought you would listen to reason, mon ami. Now we
+will have a pleasant chat. Hold, I will order some brandy myself."
+
+"Not for me," said Dawkins, rising from his chair, "I must be going."
+
+"Will you not have one little game?" asked Duval, coaxingly.
+
+"No, no, I have had enough of that. Goodnight."
+
+"Then you won't stop. And when shall I have the pleasure of seeing you
+at my little apartment once more?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"If it is any trouble to you to come, I will call at your office," said
+Duval, significantly.
+
+"Don't trouble yourself," said Dawkins, hastily; "I will come here a
+week from today."
+
+"A week is a long time."
+
+"Long or short, I must have it."
+
+"Very well, mon ami. A week let it be. Good-night. Mind the stairs as
+you go down."
+
+Dawkins breathed more freely as he passed out into the open air. He was
+beginning to realize that the way of the transgressor is hard.
+
+
+
+
+XXX.
+
+A TRAP IS LAID FOR PAUL.
+
+
+Three months before, George Dawkins had made his first visit to a
+gambling house. At first, he had entered only from curiosity. He watched
+the play with an interest which gradually deepened, until he was easily
+persuaded to try his own luck. The stakes were small, but fortune
+favored him, and he came out some dollars richer than he entered. It
+would have been fortunate for him if he had failed. As it was, his
+good fortune encouraged him to another visit. This time he was less
+fortunate, but his gains about balanced his losses, so that he came out
+even. On the next occasion he left off with empty pockets. So it went on
+until at length he fell into the hands of Duval, who had no scruple in
+fleecing him to as great an extent as he could be induced to go.
+
+George Dawkins's reflections were not of the most cheerful character as,
+leaving Duval, he slowly pursued his way homeward. He felt that he had
+fallen into the power of an unscrupulous villain, who would have no
+mercy upon him. He execrated his own folly, without which all the
+machination of Duval would have been without effect.
+
+The question now, however, was, to raise the money. He knew of no one
+to whom he could apply except his father, nor did he have much hope from
+that quarter. Still, he would make the effort.
+
+Reaching home he found his father seated in the library. He looked up
+from the evening paper as George entered.
+
+"Only half-past nine," he said, with an air of sarcasm. "You spend your
+evenings out so systematically that your early return surprises me. How
+is it? Has the theater begun to lose its charm!"
+
+There was no great sympathy between father and son, and if either felt
+affection for the other, it was never manifested. Mutual recrimination
+was the rule between them, and George would now have made an angry
+answer but that he had a favor to ask, and felt it politic to be
+conciliatory.
+
+"If I had supposed you cared for my society, sir, I would have remained
+at home oftener."
+
+"Umph!" was the only reply elicited from his father.
+
+"However, there was a good reason for my not going to the theater
+to-night."
+
+"Indeed!"
+
+"I had no money."
+
+"Your explanation is quite satisfactory," said his father, with a slight
+sneer. "I sympathize in your disappointment."
+
+"There is no occasion, sir," said George, good humoredly, for him. "I
+had no great desire to go."
+
+Dawkins took down a book from the library and tried to read, but
+without much success. His thoughts continually recurred to his pecuniary
+embarrassments, and the debt which he owed to Duval seemed to hang like
+a millstone around his neck. How should he approach his father on the
+subject? In his present humor he feared he would have little chance.
+
+As his father laid down the newspaper Dawkins said, "Wouldn't you like a
+game of checkers, sir?"
+
+This, as he well knew, was a favorite game with his father.
+
+"I don't know but I should," said Mr. Dawkins, more graciously than was
+his wont.
+
+The checker-board was brought, and the two commenced playing. Three
+games were played all of which his father won. This appeared to put
+him in a good humor, for as the two ceased playing, he drew a
+ten-dollar-bill from his pocket-book, and handed to his son, with the
+remark, "There, George, I don't want you to be penniless. You are a
+little extravagant, though, I think. Your pay from Mr. Danforth ought to
+keep you in spending money."
+
+"Yes, sir, I have been rather extravagant, but I am going to reform."
+
+"I am very glad to hear it."
+
+"I wish, sir," said George a moment afterwards, "that you would allow me
+to buy my own clothes."
+
+"I've no sort of an objection, I am sure. You select them now, don't
+you?"
+
+"Yes, sir, but I mean to suggest that you should make me an allowance
+for that purpose,--about as much as it costs now,--and give me the money
+to spend where I please."
+
+Mr. Dawkins looked sharply at his son.
+
+"The result would probably be," he said, "that the money would be
+expended in other ways, and I should have to pay for the clothes twice
+over."
+
+Dawkins would have indignantly disclaimed this, if he had not felt that
+he was not altogether sincere in the request he had made.
+
+"No," continued his father, "I don't like the arrangement you propose.
+When you need clothing you can go to my tailor and order it, of course
+not exceeding reasonable limits."
+
+"But," said Dawkins, desperately, "I don't like Bradshaw's style of
+making clothes. I would prefer trying some other tailor."
+
+"What fault have you to find with Bradshaw? Is he not one of the most
+fashionable tailors in the city?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I suppose so, but----"
+
+"Come, sir, you are growing altogether too particular. All your garments
+set well, so far as I can judge."
+
+"Yes, sir, but one likes a change sometimes," persisted George, a little
+embarrassed for further objections.
+
+"Well," said Mr. Dawkins, after a pause, "If you are so strongly bent
+upon a new tailor, select one, and order what you need. You can tell him
+to send in his bill to me."
+
+"Thank you sir," said his son, by no means pleased at the manner in
+which his request had been granted. He saw that it would in no manner
+promote the plan which he had in view, since it would give him no
+command of the ready money. It is hardly necessary to say that his
+alleged dissatisfaction with his father's tailor had all been trumped
+up for the occasion, and would never have been thought of but for the
+present emergency.
+
+"What shall I do!" thought Dawkins, in perplexity, as he slowly
+undressed himself and retired to bed.
+
+The only true course, undoubtedly, was to confess all to his father,
+to incur the storm of reproaches which would have followed as the just
+penalty of his transgression, and then the haunting fear of discovery
+would have been once and forever removed. But Dawkins was not brave
+enough for this. He thought only of escaping from his present difficulty
+without his father's knowledge.
+
+He rose the next morning with the burden of care still weighing upon
+him. In the evening the thought occurred to him that he might retrieve
+his losses where he had incurred them, and again he bent his steps to
+the gambling house. He risked five dollars, being one-half of what he
+had. This was lost. Desperately he hazarded the remaining five dollars,
+and lost again.
+
+With a muttered oath he sprang to his feet, and left the brilliant room,
+more gloomy and discouraged than ever. He was as badly off as before,
+and penniless beside. He would have finished the evening at the theater,
+but his recent loss prevented that. He lounged about the streets till it
+was time to go to bed, and then went home in a very unsatisfactory state
+of mind.
+
+A day or two after, he met on Broadway the man whom of all others he
+would gladly have avoided.
+
+"Aha, my friend, I am glad to meet you," said Duval, for it was he.
+
+Dawkins muttered something unintelligible, and would have hurried on,
+but Duval detained him.
+
+"Why are you in such a hurry, my friend?" he said.
+
+"Business," returned Dawkins, shortly.
+
+"That reminds me of the little business affair between us, mon ami. Have
+you got any money for me?"
+
+"Not yet."
+
+"Not yet! It is three days since we saw each other. Could you not do
+something in three days?"
+
+"I told you I required a week," said Dawkins, roughly, "Let go my arm. I
+tell you I am in haste."
+
+"Very well, mon ami," said Duval, slowly relinquishing his hold, "take
+care that you do not forget. There are four days more to the week."
+
+Dawkins hurried on feeling very uncomfortable. He was quite aware that
+four days hence he would be as unprepared to encounter the Frenchman as
+now. Still, something might happen.
+
+Something, unfortunately, did happen.
+
+The next day Mr. Danforth was counting a roll of bills which had been
+just paid in, when he was unexpectedly called out of the counting-room.
+He unguardedly left the bills upon his own desk. Dawkins saw them lying
+there. The thought flashed upon him, "There lies what will relieve me
+from all my embarrassment."
+
+Allowing himself scarcely a minute to think, he took from the roll four
+fifty dollar notes, thrust one into the pocket of Paul's overcoat, which
+hung up in the office, drew off his right boot and slipped the other
+three into the bottom of it, and put it on again. He then nervously
+resumed his place at his desk. A moment afterwards, Paul, who had been
+to the post-office, entered with letters which he carried into the inner
+office and deposited on Mr. Danforth's desk. He observed the roll
+of bills, and thought his employer careless in leaving so much money
+exposed, but said nothing on the subject to Dawkins, between whom and
+himself there was little communication.
+
+
+
+
+XXXI.
+
+CONVICTED OF THEFT.
+
+
+Half an hour later Mr. Danforth returned.
+
+"Has any one been here?" he asked as he passed through the outer office.
+
+"No, sir," said Dawkins, with outward composure though his heart was
+beating rapidly.
+
+While apparently intent upon his writing he listened attentively to what
+might be going on in the next room. One,--two,--three minutes passed.
+Mr. Danforth again showed himself.
+
+"Did you say that no one has been here?" he demanded, abruptly.
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Have either of you been into my office since I have been out?"
+
+"I have not, sir," said Dawkins.
+
+"I went in to carry your letters," said Paul.
+
+"Did you see a roll of bills lying on my desk?"
+
+"Yes, sir," said Paul, a little surprised at the question.
+
+"I have just counted it over, and find but six hundred dollars instead
+of eight hundred. Can you account for the discrepancy?"
+
+Mr. Danforth looked keenly at the two boys. Dawkins, who had schooled
+himself to the ordeal, maintained his outward calmness. Paul, beginning
+to perceive that his honesty was called in question, flushed.
+
+"No, sir," said the boys simultaneously.
+
+"It can hardly be possible, that Mr. Thompson, who is a very careful
+man, should have made such a mistake in paying me," resumed Mr.
+Danforth.
+
+"As we have been the only persons here," said Dawkins, "the only way to
+vindicate ourselves from suspicion is, to submit to a search."
+
+"Yes, sir," said Paul promptly.
+
+Both boys turned their pockets inside out, but the missing money was not
+found.
+
+"There is my overcoat, sir," said Dawkins, "will you be kind enough to
+search it for yourself?"
+
+Next, of course, Paul's overcoat was searched.
+
+What was our hero's dismay when from one of the pockets Mr. Danforth
+produced a fifty dollar bill.
+
+"Is it possible?" he exclaimed in as much grief as surprise, "Unhappy
+boy, how came you by this money in your pocket?"
+
+"I don't know, sir," returned Paul, his cheek alternately flushing and
+growing pale.
+
+"I wish I could believe you," said Mr. Danforth; "where have you put the
+other bills? Produce them, and I may overlook this first offense."
+
+"Indeed, sir," said Paul, in great distress, "I have not the slightest
+knowledge of how this bill came into my pocket. I hope you will believe
+me, sir."
+
+"How can I? The money evidently did not go into your pocket without
+hands."
+
+A sudden thought came to Paul. "Dawkins," said he, "did you put that
+money into my pocket?"
+
+"What do you mean, sir?" returned Dawkins, haughtily. "Is it your
+intention to insult me?"
+
+Dawkins could not prevent his face from flushing as he spoke, but this
+might easily be referred to a natural resentment of the imputation cast
+upon him.
+
+"Paul," said his employer, coldly, "you will not help your own cause
+by seeking to involve another. After what has happened you can hardly
+expect me to retain you in my employment. I will not make public your
+disgrace, nor will I inquire farther for the remainder of the money for
+which you have been willing to barter your integrity. I will pay your
+wages up to the end of this week, and----"
+
+"Mr. Danforth," said Paul, manfully, though the tears almost choked his
+utterance, "I am sorry that you have no better opinion of me. I do not
+want the balance of my wages. If I have taken so large a sum which did
+not belong to me, I have no claim to them. Good-morning, sir. Sometime I
+hope you will think better of me."
+
+Paul put on his coat, and taking his cap from the nail on which it hung,
+bowed respectfully to his employer and left the office.
+
+Mr. Danforth looked after him, and seemed perplexed. Could Paul be
+guilty after all?
+
+"I never could have suspected him if I had not this evidence in my
+hand," said Mr. Danforth, to himself, fixing his eyes upon the bill
+which he had drawn from Paul's overcoat.
+
+"Dawkins, did you observe whether Paul remained long in the office?" he
+asked.
+
+"Longer than sufficient to lay the letters on the desk?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I think he did."
+
+"Did you notice whether he went to his overcoat after coming out?"
+
+"Yes, sir, he did," said Dawkins, anxious to fix in Mr. Danforth's mind
+the impression of Paul's guilt.
+
+"Then I am afraid it is true," said his employer sadly. "And yet, what a
+fine, manly boy he is too. But it is a terrible fault."
+
+Mr. Danforth was essentially a kind-hearted man, and he cared much more
+for Paul's dereliction from honesty than for the loss of the money.
+Going home early to dinner, he communicated to his wife the unpleasant
+discovery which he had made respecting Paul.
+
+Now, from the first, Paul had been a great favorite with Mrs. Danforth,
+and she scouted at the idea of his dishonesty.
+
+"Depend upon it, Mr. Danforth," she said decisively, "you have done the
+boy an injustice. I have some skill in reading faces, and I tell you
+that a boy with Paul Prescott's open, frank expression is incapable of
+such a crime."
+
+"So I should have said, my dear, but we men learn to be less trustful
+than you ladies, who stay at home and take rose-colored views of life.
+Unfortunately, we see too much of the dark side of human nature."
+
+"So that you conclude all to be dark."
+
+"Not so bad as that."
+
+"Tell me all the circumstances, and perhaps a woman's wit may help you."
+
+Mr. Danforth communicated all the details, with which the reader is
+already familiar.
+
+"What sort of a boy is this Dawkins?" she asked, "Do you like him?"
+
+"Not particularly. He does his duties passably well. I took him into my
+counting-room to oblige his father."
+
+"Perhaps he is the thief."
+
+"To tell the truth I would sooner have suspected him."
+
+"Has he cleared himself from suspicion?"
+
+"He was the first to suggest a search."
+
+"Precisely the thing he would have done, if he had placed the bill
+in Paul's pocket. Of course he would know that the search must result
+favorably for him."
+
+"There is something in that."
+
+"Besides, what could have been more foolish, if Paul wished to hide the
+money, than to multiply his chances of detection by hiding it in two
+different places, especially where one was so obvious as to afford no
+concealment at all."
+
+"Admitting this to be true, how am I to arrive at the proof of Paul's
+innocence?"
+
+"My own opinion is, that George Dawkins has the greater part of the
+money stolen. Probably he has taken it for some particular purpose. What
+it is, you may learn, perhaps, by watching him."
+
+"I will be guided by your suggestion. Nothing would afford me greater
+pleasure than to find that I have been mistaken in assuming Paul's
+guilt, though on evidence that seemed convincing."
+
+This conversation took place at the dinner-table. Mr. Danforth
+understood that no time was to be lost if he expected to gain any
+information from the movements of his clerk.
+
+George Dawkins had ventured upon a bold act, but he had been apparently
+favored by fortune, and had succeeded. That he should have committed
+this crime without compunction could hardly be expected. His uneasiness,
+however, sprang chiefly from the fear that in some way he might yet
+be detected. He resolved to get rid of the money which he had
+obtained dishonestly, and obtain back from Duval the acknowledgment of
+indebtedness which he had given him.
+
+You will perhaps ask whether the wrong which he had done Paul affected
+him with uneasiness. On the contrary, it gratified the dislike which
+from the first he had cherished towards our hero.
+
+"I am well rid of him, at all events," he muttered to himself, "that is
+worth risking some thing for."
+
+When office hours were over Dawkins gladly threw down his pen, and left
+the counting-room.
+
+He bent his steps rapidly towards the locality where he had before met
+Duval. He had decided to wait some time before meeting that worthy. He
+had to wait till another day, when as he was emerging from the tavern he
+encountered the Frenchman on the threshold.
+
+"Aha, my good friend," said Duval, offering his hand, which Dawkins did
+not appear to see, "I am very glad to see you. Will you come in?"
+
+"No, I have not time," said Dawkins, shortly.
+
+"Have you brought me my money?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Aha, that is well. I was just about what you call cleaned out."
+
+"Have you my note with you?"
+
+Duval fumbled in his pocket-book, and finally produced the desired
+document.
+
+"Give it to me."
+
+"I must have the money first," said the Frenchman, shrewdly.
+
+"Take it," said Dawkins contemptuously. "Do you judge me by yourself?"
+
+He tore the note which he received into small pieces, and left Duval
+without another word.
+
+Sheltered by the darkness, Mr. Danforth, who had tracked the steps of
+Dawkins, had been an unseen witness of this whole transaction.
+
+
+
+
+XXXII.
+
+RIGHT TRIUMPHANT.
+
+
+George Dawkins resumed his duties the next morning as usual.
+Notwithstanding the crime he had committed to screen himself from the
+consequences of a lighter fault, he felt immeasurably relieved at the
+thought that he had shaken himself free from the clutches of Duval. His
+satisfaction was heightened by the disgrace and summary dismissal of
+Paul, whom he had never liked. He decided to ask the place for a cousin
+of his own, whose society would be more agreeable to him than that of
+his late associate.
+
+"Good-morning, sir," he said, as Mr. Danforth entered.
+
+"Good-morning," returned his employer, coldly.
+
+"Have you selected any one in Prescott's place, yet, sir?"
+
+"Why do you ask?"
+
+"Because I have a cousin, Malcolm Harcourt, who would be glad to take
+it."
+
+"Indeed!" said Mr. Danforth, whose manner somewhat puzzled Dawkins.
+
+"I should enjoy having him with me," continued Dawkins.
+
+"Did you like Prescott?"
+
+"No, sir," said Dawkins, promptly, "I didn't want to say so before, but
+now, since he's turned out so badly, I don't mind saying that I never
+thought much of him."
+
+"On the contrary," said Mr. Danforth, "I liked him from the first.
+Perhaps we are wrong in thinking that he took the money."
+
+"I should think there could be no doubt of it," said Dawkins, not liking
+the sympathy and returning good feeling for Paul which his employer
+manifested.
+
+"I don't agree with you," said Mr. Danforth, coldly. "I have decided to
+reinstate Paul in his former place."
+
+"Then, if any more money is missing, you will know where it has gone,"
+said Dawkins, hastily.
+
+"I shall."
+
+"Then there is no chance for my cousin?"
+
+"I am expecting to have a vacancy."
+
+Dawkins looked up in surprise.
+
+"I shall require some one to fill YOUR place," said Mr. Danforth,
+significantly.
+
+"Sir!" exclaimed Dawkins, in astonishment and dismay.
+
+His employer bent a searching glance upon him as he asked, sternly,
+"where did you obtain the money which you paid away last evening?"
+
+"I--don't--understand--you, sir," gasped Dawkins, who understood only
+too well.
+
+"You met a man at the door of a low tavern in--Street, last evening, to
+whom you paid one hundred and fifty dollars, precisely the sum which I
+lost yesterday."
+
+"Who has been slandering me, sir?" asked Dawkins, very pale.
+
+"An eye-witness of the meeting, who heard the conversation between you.
+If you want more satisfactory proof, here it is."
+
+Mr. Danforth took from his pocket-book the torn fragments of the note
+which Dawkins had given to Duval.
+
+"Here is an obligation to pay a certain Duval the sum of one hundred and
+fifty dollars. It bears your signature. How you could have incurred such
+a debt to him you best know."
+
+Dawkins maintained a sullen silence.
+
+"I suppose you wish me to leave your employment," he said at length.
+
+"You are right. Hold," he added, as Dawkins was about leaving the room,
+"a word more. It is only just that you should make a restitution of the
+sum which you have taken. If you belonged to a poor family and there
+were extenuating circumstances, I might forego my claim. But your father
+is abundantly able to make good the loss, and I shall require you to
+lay the matter before him without loss of time. In consideration of your
+youth, I shall not bring the matter before the public tribunals, as I
+have a right to do."
+
+Dawkins turned pale at this allusion, and muttering some words to the
+effect that he would do what he could, left the counting-room.
+
+This threat proved not to be without its effect. The next day he came to
+Mr. Danforth and brought the sum for which he had become responsible. He
+had represented to his father that he had had his pocket picked of this
+sum belonging to Mr. Danforth, and in that manner obtained an equal
+amount to replace it. It was some time before Mr. Dawkins learned the
+truth. Then came a storm of reproaches in which all the bitterness of
+his father's nature was fully exhibited. There had never been much love
+between father and son. Henceforth there was open hatred.
+
+We must return to Paul, whom we left in much trouble.
+
+It was a sad walk which he took homeward on the morning of his
+dismissal.
+
+"What brings you home so early?" asked Mrs. Cameron, looking up from her
+baking, as Paul entered.
+
+Paul tried to explain, but tears came to his eyes, and sobs choked his
+utterance.
+
+"Are you sick, Paul?" exclaimed Mrs. Cameron, in alarm.
+
+"No, Aunt Hester."
+
+"Then what is the matter?" she asked anxiously.
+
+"I have lost my place."
+
+"Poor boy! I am very sorry to hear it. But it might have been worse."
+
+"No, not very well, Aunt Hester, for Mr. Danforth thinks I have taken
+some of his money."
+
+"He is very unjust!" exclaimed Aunt Hester, indignantly, "he ought to
+have known better than to think you would steal."
+
+"Why, no," said Paul, candidly, "I must confess the evidence was against
+me, and he doesn't know me as well as you do, Aunt Hester."
+
+"Tell me all about it, Paul."
+
+Aunt Hester sat down and listened attentively to our hero's story.
+
+"How do you account for the money being found in your pocket?" she asked
+at length.
+
+"I think it must have been put there by some one else."
+
+"Have you any suspicions?"
+
+"Yes," said Paul, a little reluctantly, "but I don't know whether I
+ought to have. I may be wronging an innocent person."
+
+"At any rate it won't do any harm to tell me."
+
+"You've heard me speak of George Dawkins?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I can't help thinking that he put the fifty dollars into my pocket, and
+took the rest himself."
+
+"How very wicked he must be!" exclaimed Mrs. Cameron, indignantly.
+
+"Don't judge him too hastily; Aunt Hester, he may not be guilty, and I
+know from my own experience how hard it is to be accused when you are
+innocent."
+
+Soon after the sexton came in, and Paul of course, told his story over
+again.
+
+"Never mind, Paul," said Uncle Hugh, cheerily. "You know your own
+innocence; that is the main thing. It's a great thing to have a clear
+conscience."
+
+"But I liked Mr. Danforth and I think he liked me. It's hard to feel
+that he and Mrs. Danforth will both think me guilty, especially after
+the kindness which I have experienced from them."
+
+"We all have our crosses, my boy,--some light and others heavy. Yours, I
+admit is a heavy one for a boy to bear. But when men are unjust there is
+One above who will deal justly with us. You have not forgotten him."
+
+"No, Uncle Hugh," said Paul, reverently.
+
+"Trust in him, Paul, and all will come out right at last. He can prove
+your innocence, and you may be sure he will, in his own good time. Only
+be patient, Paul."
+
+"I will try to be, Uncle Hugh."
+
+The simple, hearty trust in God, which the sexton manifested, was not
+lost upon Paul. Sustained by his own consciousness of innocence, and
+the confidence reposed in him by those who knew him best, his mind soon
+regained its cheerful tone. He felt an inward conviction that God would
+vindicate his innocence.
+
+His vindication came sooner than he anticipated.
+
+The next day as the sexton's family were seated at their plain dinner, a
+knock was heard upon the outer door.
+
+"Sit still, Hester," said Mr. Cameron. "I will go to the door."
+
+Opening the door he recognized Mr. Danforth, who attended the same
+church.
+
+"Mr. Cameron, I believe," said Mr. Danforth, pleasantly.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"May I come in? I am here on a little business."
+
+"Certainly, Mr. Danforth. Excuse my not inviting you before; but in my
+surprise at seeing you, I forgot my politeness."
+
+The sexton led the way into the plain sitting-room.
+
+"I believe Paul Prescott is an inmate of your family."
+
+"Yes, sir. I am sorry----"
+
+"I know what you would say, sir; but it is needless. May I see Paul a
+moment?"
+
+Paul was surprised at the summons, and still more surprised at finding
+who it was that wished to see him.
+
+He entered the room slowly, uncertain how to accost Mr. Danforth. His
+employer solved the doubt in his mind by advancing cordially, and taking
+his hand.
+
+"Paul," he said pleasantly, "I have come here to ask your forgiveness
+for an injustice, and to beg you to resume your place in my
+counting-room."
+
+"Have you found out who took the money, sir?" asked Paul, eagerly.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Who was it, sir?"
+
+"It was Dawkins."
+
+Mr. Danforth explained how he had become acquainted with the real thief.
+In conclusion, he said, "I shall expect you back to-morrow morning,
+Paul."
+
+"Thank you, sir."
+
+"Dawkins of course leaves my employ. You will take his place, and
+receive his salary, seven dollars a week instead of five. Have you any
+friend whom you would like to have in your own place?"
+
+Paul reflected a moment and finally named a schoolmate of his, the son
+of poor parents, whom he knew to be anxiously seeking a situation, but
+without influential friends to help him.
+
+"I will take him on your recommendation," said Mr. Danforth, promptly.
+"Can you see him this afternoon?"
+
+"Yes, sir," said Paul.
+
+The next day Paul resumed his place in Mr. Danforth's counting-room.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIII.
+
+PAUL REDEEMS HIS PLEDGE.
+
+
+Two years passed, unmarked by any incident of importance. Paul
+continued in Mr. Danforth's employment, giving, if possible, increased
+satisfaction. He was not only faithful, but exhibited a rare aptitude
+for business, which made his services of great value to his employer.
+From time to time Mr. Danforth increased his salary, so that, though
+only nineteen, he was now receiving twelve dollars per week, with the
+prospect of a speedy increase. But with his increasing salary, he did
+not increase his expenses. He continued as economical as ever. He had
+not forgotten his father's dying injunction. He remained true to the
+charge which he had taken upon himself, that of redeeming his father's
+memory from reproach. This, at times subjected him to the imputation
+of meanness, but for this he cared little. He would not swerve from the
+line of duty which he had marked out.
+
+One evening as he was walking down Broadway with an acquaintance, Edward
+Hastings, who was employed in a counting-room near him, they paused
+before a transparency in front of a hall brilliantly lighted.
+
+"The Hutchinsons are going to sing to-night, Paul," said Hastings. "Did
+you ever hear them?"
+
+"No; but I have often wished to."
+
+"Then suppose we go in."
+
+"No, I believe not."
+
+"Why not. Paul? It seems to me you never go anywhere. You ought to amuse
+yourself now and then."
+
+"Some other time I will,--not now."
+
+"You are not required to be at home in the evening, are you?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then why not come in now? It's only twenty-five cents."
+
+"To tell the truth, Ned, I am saving up my money for a particular
+purpose; and until that is accomplished, I avoid all unnecessary
+expense."
+
+"Going to invest in a house in Fifth Avenue? When you do, I'll call.
+However, never mind the expense. I'll pay you in."
+
+"I'm much obliged to you, Ned, but I can't accept."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because at present I can't afford to return the favor."
+
+"Never mind that."
+
+"But I do mind it. By-and-by I shall feel more free. Good-night, if you
+are going in."
+
+"Good-night, Paul."
+
+"He's a strange fellow," mused Hastings.
+
+"It's impossible to think him mean, and yet, it looks a great deal like
+it. He spends nothing for dress or amusements. I do believe that I've
+had three coats since he's been wearing that old brown one. Yet, he
+always looks neat. I wonder what he's saving up his money for."
+
+Meanwhile Paul went home.
+
+The sexton and his wife looked the same as ever. Paul sometimes fancied
+that Uncle Hugh stooped a little more than he used to do; but his life
+moved on so placidly and evenly, that he grew old but slowly. Aunt
+Hester was the same good, kind, benevolent friend that she had always
+been. No mother could have been more devoted to Paul. He felt that he
+had much to be grateful for, in his chance meeting with this worthy
+couple.
+
+It was the first of January,--a clear, cold day. A pleasant fire burned
+in the little stove. Mr. Cameron sat at one side, reading the evening
+paper; Mrs. Cameron at the other, knitting a stocking for Paul. A large,
+comfortable-looking cat was dozing tranquilly on the hearth-rug. Paul,
+who had been seated at the table, rose and lighted a candle.
+
+"Where are you going, Paul?" asked Aunt Hester.
+
+"Up-stairs for a moment."
+
+Paul speedily returned, bearing in his hand a small blue bank-book, with
+his name on the cover.
+
+He took out his pencil and figured a few minutes.
+
+"Uncle Hugh," said he, looking up, "when I get a hundred dollars more, I
+shall have enough to pay father's debt."
+
+"Principal and interest?"
+
+"Yes, principal and interest; reckoning the interest for a year to
+come."
+
+"I did not suppose you had so much money, Paul. You must have been very
+economical."
+
+"Yes, Uncle Hugh more so than I have wanted to be, oftentimes; but
+whenever I have been tempted to spend a cent unnecessarily, I have
+always called to mind my promise made to father on his deathbed, and I
+have denied myself."
+
+"You have done well, Paul. There are few who would have had the
+resolution to do as you have."
+
+"Oh yes, Uncle Hugh," said Paul, modestly, "I think there are a great
+many. I begin to feel repaid already. In a few months I shall be able to
+pay up the whole debt."
+
+At this moment a knock was heard at the door. Mr. Cameron answered the
+summons.
+
+"Does Mr. Paul Prescott live here?" inquired a boy.
+
+"Yes. Do you want to see him?"
+
+"Here is a letter for him. There is no answer."
+
+The messenger departed, leaving the letter in Mr. Cameron's hand.
+
+Somewhat surprised, he returned to the sitting-room and handed it to
+Paul.
+
+Paul opened it hastily, and discovered inclosed, a bank-note for one
+hundred dollars. It was accompanied with a note from his employer,
+stating that it was intended as a New Year's gift, but in the hurry of
+business, he had forgotten to give it to him during the day.
+
+Paul's face lighted up with joy.
+
+"Oh, Uncle Hugh!" he exclaimed, almost breathless with delight. "Don't
+you see that this will enable me to pay my debt at once?"
+
+"So it will, Paul. I wish you joy."
+
+"And my father's memory will be vindicated," said Paul, in a tone of
+deep satisfaction. "If he could only have lived to see this day!"
+
+A fortnight later, Paul obtained permission from his employer to
+be absent from the office for a week. It was his purpose to visit
+Cedarville and repay 'Squire Conant the debt due him: and then, to go
+across the country to Wrenville, thirty miles distant, to see Aunt Lucy
+Lee. First, however, he ordered a new suit of a tailor, feeling a desire
+to appear to the best advantage on his return to the scene of his former
+humiliation. I must not omit to say that Paul was now a fine-looking
+young fellow of nineteen, with a frank, manly face, that won favor
+wherever he went.
+
+In due course of time, he arrived at Cedarville, and found his way
+without difficulty to the house of 'Squire Conant.
+
+It was a large house, rather imposing in its exterior, being quite the
+finest residence in the village.
+
+Paul went up the walk, and rang the bell.
+
+"Can I see 'Squire Conant?" he asked of the servant who answered the
+bell.
+
+"You'll find him in that room," said the girl, pointing to a door on the
+left hand of the hall.
+
+"As he doesn't know me, perhaps you had better go before."
+
+The door was opened, and Paul found himself in the presence of his
+father's creditor. 'Squire Conant was looking pale and thin. He was just
+recovering from a severe sickness.
+
+"I presume you don't recognize me, sir," said Paul.
+
+"Did I ever see you before?"
+
+"Yes, sir; my name is Paul Prescott."
+
+"Not the son of John Prescott?"
+
+"The same, sir. I believe my father died in your debt."
+
+"Yes. I lent him five hundred dollars, which he never repaid."
+
+"He tried to do so, sir. He had saved up a hundred and fifty dollars
+towards it, but sickness came upon him, and he was obliged to use it."
+
+'Squire Conant's temper had been subdued by the long and dangerous
+illness through which he had passed. It had made him set a smaller value
+on his earthly possessions, from which he might be separated at any
+moment. When he answered Paul, it was in a manner which our hero did not
+expect.
+
+"Never mind. I can afford to lose it. I have no doubt he did what he
+could."
+
+"But I have come to pay it, sir," said Paul.
+
+"You!" exclaimed 'Squire Conant, in the greatest astonishment.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Where did you get the money?"
+
+"I earned it, sir."
+
+"But you are very young. How could you have earned so much?"
+
+Paul frankly told the story of his struggles; how for years he had
+practised a pinching economy, in order to redeem his father's memory
+from reproach.
+
+'Squire Conant listened attentively.
+
+"You are a good boy," he said, at length.
+
+"Shall you have anything left after paying this money?"
+
+"No, sir; but I shall soon earn more."
+
+"Still, you ought to have something to begin the world with. You shall
+pay me half the money, and I will cancel the note."
+
+"But, sir,----"
+
+"Not a word. I am satisfied, and that is enough. If I hadn't lent your
+father the money, I might have invested it with the rest, and lost all."
+
+'Squire Conant produced the note from a little trunk of papers, and
+handed it to Paul, who paid him the amount which he had stipulated,
+expressing at the same time his gratitude for his unexpected generosity.
+
+"Never mind about thanks, my boy," said 'Squire Conant: "I am afraid I
+have loved money too well heretofore. I hope I am not too old to turn
+over a new leaf."
+
+
+
+
+XXXIV.
+
+HOW PAUL GOES BACK TO WRENVILLE.
+
+
+While 'Squire Conant was speaking, Paul formed a sudden resolution. He
+remembered that Aunt Lucy Lee was a sister of 'Squire Conant. Perhaps,
+in his present frame of mind, it might be possible to induce him to do
+something for her.
+
+"I believe I am acquainted with a sister of yours, 'Squire Conant," he
+commenced.
+
+"Ha!" exclaimed the 'Squire.
+
+"Mrs. Lucy Lee."
+
+"Yes," was the slow reply; "she is my sister. Where did you meet her?"
+
+"At the Wrenville Poorhouse."
+
+"How long ago?"
+
+"About six years since."
+
+"Is she there, still?"
+
+"Yes, sir. Since I have been in New York, I have heard from her
+frequently. I am going from here to visit her. Have you any message,
+sir? I am sure she would be glad to hear from you."
+
+"She shall hear from me," said the 'Squire in a low voice. "Sit down,
+and I will write her a letter which, I hope, will not prove unwelcome."
+
+Five minutes afterwards he handed Paul an open letter.
+
+"You may read it," he said, abruptly.
+
+"You have been a better friend to my sister than I. You shall witness my
+late reparation."
+
+The letter was as follows:----
+
+CEDARVILLE, JAN 13, 18--.
+
+MY DEAR SISTER:--
+
+I hope you will forgive me for my long neglect. It is not fitting that
+while I am possessed of abundant means you should longer remain the
+tenant of an almshouse. I send you by the bearer of this note, Paul
+Prescott, who, I understand, is a friend of yours, the sum of three
+hundred dollars. The same sum will be sent you annually. I hope it will
+be sufficient to maintain you comfortably. I shall endeavor to call upon
+you soon, and meanwhile remain, Your affectionate brother,
+
+EZEKIEL CONANT.
+
+
+Paul read this letter with grateful joy. It seemed almost to good to be
+true. Aunt Lucy would be released from the petty tyranny of Mrs. Mudge's
+household, and perhaps--he felt almost sure Aunt Hester would be willing
+to receive her as a boarder, thus insuring her a peaceful and happy home
+in her declining years.
+
+"Oh, sir," said he, seizing 'Squire Conant's hand, "you cannot tell how
+happy you have made me."
+
+"It is what I ought to have done before. Here is the money referred to
+in the letter,--three hundred dollars,--mind you don't lose it."
+
+"I will take every care, sir."
+
+"You may tell my sister that I shall be happy to have her write me."
+
+"I will, sir."
+
+Paul left 'Squire Conant's house, feeling that he had great cause for
+joy. The 'Squire's refusal to receive more than half the debt, left him
+master of over three hundred dollars. But I am not sure whether he did
+not rejoice even more over the good fortune which had come to Aunt Lucy
+Lee, whose kindness to him, in his unfriended boyhood, he would ever
+hold in grateful remembrance. He enjoyed in anticipation the joy
+which he knew Aunt Lucy would feel when the change in her fortunes was
+communicated to her. He knew also how great would be the chagrin of Mr.
+and Mrs. Mudge, when they found that the meek old lady whom they hated
+was about to be rescued from their clutches. On the whole, Paul felt
+that this was the happiest day of his life. It was a satisfaction to
+feel that the good fortune of his early friend was all due to his own
+intercession.
+
+He was able to take the cars to a point four miles distant from
+Wrenville. On getting out on the platform he inquired whether there was
+a livery stable near by. He was directed to one but a few rods distant.
+Entering he asked, "Can you let me have a horse and chaise to go to
+Wrenville?"
+
+"Yes, sir," said the groom.
+
+"Let me have the best horse in the stable," said Paul, "and charge me
+accordingly."
+
+"Yes, sir," said the groom, respectfully, judging from Paul's dress and
+tone that he was a young gentleman of fortune.
+
+A spirited animal was brought out, and Paul was soon seated in the
+chaise driving along the Wrenville road. Paul's city friends would
+hardly have recognized their economical acquaintance in the well-dressed
+young man who now sat behind a fast horse, putting him through his best
+paces. It might have been a weakness in Paul, but he remembered the
+manner in which he left Wrenville, an unfriended boy, compelled to fly
+from persecution under the cover of darkness, and he felt a certain
+pride in showing the Mudges that his circumstances were now entirely
+changed. It was over this very road that he had walked with his little
+bundle, in the early morning, six years before. It seemed to him almost
+like a dream.
+
+At length he reached Wrenville. Though he had not been there for six
+years, he recognized the places that had once been familiar to him. But
+everything seemed to have dwindled. Accustomed to large city warehouses,
+the houses in the village seemed very diminutive. Even 'Squire Benjamin
+Newcome's house, which he had once regarded as a stately mansion, now
+looked like a very ordinary dwelling.
+
+As he rode up the main street of the village, many eyes were fixed
+upon him and his carriage, but no one thought of recognizing, in
+the well-dressed youth, the boy who had run away from the Wrenville
+Poorhouse.
+
+
+
+
+XXXV.
+
+CONCLUSION.
+
+
+At the very moment that Paul was driving through the village street,
+Mr. Nicholas Mudge entered the Poorhouse in high spirits. Certainly
+ill-fortune must have befallen some one to make the good man so
+exhilarant.
+
+To explain, Mr. Mudge had just been to the village store to purchase
+some groceries. One of his parcels was tied up in a stray leaf of a
+recent New York Daily, in which he discovered an item which he felt
+sure would make Aunt Lucy unhappy. He communicated it to Mrs. Mudge,
+who highly approved his design. She called the old lady from the common
+room.
+
+"Here, Aunt Lucy," she said, "is something that will interest you."
+
+Aunt Lucy came in, wondering a little at such an unusual mark of
+attention.
+
+Mrs. Mudge immediately commenced reading with malicious emphasis a
+paragraph concerning a certain Paul Prescott, who had been arrested
+for thieving, and sentenced to the House of Reformation for a term of
+months.
+
+"There," said Mrs. Mudge, triumphantly, "what do you say to your
+favorite now? Turned out well, hasn't he? Didn't I always say so? I
+always knew that boy was bad at heart, and that he'd come to a bad end."
+
+"I don't believe it's the same boy," declared Aunt Lucy, who was
+nevertheless unpleasantly affected by the paragraph. She thought it
+possible that Paul might have yielded to a powerful temptation.
+
+"Perhaps you think I've been making it up. If you don't believe it look
+at the paper for yourself," thrusting it into Aunt Lucy's hands.
+
+"Yes," said the old lady. "I see that the name is the same; but, for
+all that, there is a mistake somewhere. I do not believe it is the same
+boy."
+
+"You don't? Just as if there would be more than one boy of that name.
+There may be other Prescotts, but there isn't but one Paul Prescott,
+take my word for it."
+
+"If it is he," said Aunt Lucy, indignantly, "is it Christianlike to
+rejoice over the poor boy's misfortune?"
+
+"Misfortune!" retorted Mrs. Mudge with a sneer; "you call it a
+misfortune to steal, then! I call it a crime."
+
+"It's often misfortune that drives people to it, though," continued the
+old lady, looking keenly at Mrs. Mudge. "I have known cases where they
+didn't have that excuse."
+
+Mrs. Mudge colored.
+
+"Go back to your room," said she, sharply; "and don't stay here accusing
+me and Mr. Mudge of unchristian conduct. You're the most troublesome
+pauper we have on our hands; and I do wish the town would provide for
+you somewhere else."
+
+"So do I," sighed the old lady to herself, though she did not think fit
+to give audible voice to her thoughts.
+
+It was at this moment that Paul halted his chaise at the gate, and
+lightly jumping out, fastened his horse to a tree, and walked up to the
+front door.
+
+"Who can it be?" thought Mrs. Mudge, hastily adjusting her cap, and
+taking off her apron.
+
+"I don't know, I'm sure," said Mr. Mudge, unsuspiciously.
+
+"I declare! I look like a fright."
+
+"No worse than usual," said her husband, gallantly.
+
+By this time Paul had knocked.
+
+"Good-morning, sir," said Mrs. Mudge, deferentially, her respect excited
+by Paul's dress and handsome chaise.
+
+"Is Mrs. Lee in?" inquired Paul, not caring to declare himself, yet, to
+his old enemy.
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Mudge, obsequiously, though not overpleased to find
+that this was Aunt Lucy's visitor; "would you like to see her?"
+
+"If you please."
+
+"What can he want of the old lady?" thought Mrs. Mudge, as she went to
+summon her.
+
+"A visitor for me?" asked Aunt Lucy, looking at Mrs. Mudge somewhat
+suspiciously.
+
+"Yes; and as he's come in a carriage, you'd better slick up a little;
+put on a clean cap or something."
+
+Aunt Lucy was soon ready.
+
+She looked wonderingly at Paul, not recognizing him.
+
+"You are not very good at remembering your old friends," said Paul, with
+a smile.
+
+"What!" exclaimed Aunt Lucy, her face lighting up with joy; "are you
+little Paul?"
+
+"Not very little, now," said our hero, laughing; "but I'm the same Paul
+you used to know."
+
+Mrs. Mudge, who through the half open door had heard this revelation,
+was overwhelmed with astonishment and confusion. She hurried to her
+husband.
+
+"Wonders will never cease!" she exclaimed, holding up both hands. "If
+that doesn't turn out to be Paul Prescott. Of course he's up in the
+world, or he wouldn't dress so well, and ride in such a handsome
+carriage."
+
+"You don't say so!" returned Mr. Mudge, who looked as if he had heard of
+a heavy misfortune.
+
+"Yes, I do; I heard him say so with his own lips. It's a pity you showed
+that paragraph to Aunt Lucy, this morning."
+
+"That you showed, you mean," retorted her husband.
+
+"No, I don't. You know it was you that did it."
+
+"Hush; they'll hear."
+
+Meanwhile the two friends were conversing together happily.
+
+"I'm so glad you're doing so well, Paul," said Aunt Lucy. "It was a
+lucky day when you left the Poorhouse behind you."
+
+"Yes, Aunt Lucy, and to-day is a lucky day for you. There's room for two
+in that chaise, and I'm going to take you away with me."
+
+"I should enjoy a ride, Paul. It's a long time since I have taken one."
+
+"You don't understand me. You're going away not to return."
+
+The old lady smiled sadly.
+
+"No, no, Paul. I can't consent to become a burden upon your generosity.
+You can't afford it, and it will not be right."
+
+"O," said Paul, smiling, "you give me credit for too much. I mean that
+you shall pay your board."
+
+"But you know I have no money."
+
+"No, I don't. I don't consider that a lady is penniless, who has an
+income of three hundred dollars a year."
+
+"I don't understand you, Paul."
+
+"Then, perhaps you will understand this," said our hero, enjoying the
+old lady's astonishment.
+
+He drew from his pocket a roll of bills, and passed them to Aunt Lucy.
+
+The old lady looked so bewildered, that he lost no time in explaining
+the matter to her. Then, indeed, Aunt Lucy was happy; not only because
+she had become suddenly independent, but, because after years of
+coldness and estrangement, her brother had at last become reconciled to
+her.
+
+"Now, Aunt Lucy," resumed Paul, "I'll tell you what my plans are. You
+shall get into the chaise with me, and go at once to New York. I think
+Aunt Hester will be willing to receive you as a boarder; if not, I will
+find you a pleasant place near by. Will that suit you?"
+
+"It will make me very happy; but I cannot realize it. It seems like a
+dream."
+
+At this moment Mrs. Mudge entered the room, and, after a moment's
+scrutiny, pretended to recognize Paul. Her husband followed close behind
+her.
+
+"Can I believe my eyes?" she exclaimed. "Is this indeed Paul Prescott? I
+am very glad to see you back."
+
+"Only a visit, Mrs. Mudge," said Paul, smiling.
+
+"You'll stop to dinner, I hope?"
+
+Paul thought of the soup and dry bread which he used to find so
+uninviting, and said that he should not have time to do so.
+
+"We've thought of you often," said Mr. Mudge, writhing his harsh
+features into a smile. "There's scarcely a day that we haven't spoken of
+you."
+
+"I ought to feel grateful for your remembrance," said Paul, his eyes
+twinkling with mirth. "But I don't think, Mr. Mudge, you always thought
+so much of me."
+
+Mr. Mudge coughed in some embarrassment, and not thinking of anything in
+particular to say, said nothing.
+
+"I am going to take from you another of your boarders," said Paul. "Can
+you spare Aunt Lucy?"
+
+"For how long?" asked Mrs. Mudge.
+
+"For all the time. She has just come into possession of a little
+property,--several hundred dollars a year,--and I have persuaded her to
+go to New York to board."
+
+"Is this true?" exclaimed Mrs. Mudge in astonishment.
+
+"Yes," said the old lady, "God has been bountiful to me when I least
+expected it."
+
+"Can I be of any service in assisting you to pack up, Mrs. Lee?"
+asked Mrs. Mudge, with new-born politeness. She felt that as a lady of
+property, Aunt Lucy was entitled to much greater respect and deference
+than before.
+
+"Thank you, Mrs. Mudge," said Paul, answering for her.
+
+"She won't have occasion for anything in this house. She will get a
+supply of new things when she gets to New York."
+
+The old lady looked very happy, and Mrs. Mudge, in spite of her outward
+deference, felt thoroughly provoked at her good fortune.
+
+I will not dwell upon the journey to New York. Aunt Lucy, though
+somewhat fatigued, bore it much better than she had anticipated. Mr. and
+Mrs. Cameron entered very heartily into Paul's plans, and readily agreed
+to receive Aunt Lucy as an inmate of their happy and united household.
+The old lady felt it to be a happy and blessed change from the
+Poorhouse, where scanty food and poor accommodations had been made
+harder to bear by the ill temper of Mr. and Mrs. Mudge, to a home whose
+atmosphere was peace and kindness.
+
+*****
+
+And now, dear reader, it behooves us to draw together the different
+threads of our story, and bring all to a satisfactory end.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Mudge are no longer in charge of the Wrenville Poorhouse.
+After Aunt Lucy's departure, Mrs. Mudge became so morose and despotic,
+that her rule became intolerable. Loud complaints came to the ears of
+'Squire Newcome, Chairman of the Overseers of the Poor. One fine morning
+he was compelled to ride over and give the interesting couple warning
+to leave immediately. Mr. Mudge undertook the charge of a farm, but his
+habits of intoxication increased upon him to such an extent, that he was
+found dead one winter night, in a snow-drift, between his own house and
+the tavern. Mrs. Mudge was not extravagant in her expressions of grief,
+not having a very strong affection for her husband. At last accounts,
+she was keeping a boarding-house in a manufacturing town. Some time
+since, her boarders held an indignation meeting, and threatened to
+leave in a body unless she improved her fare,--a course to which she was
+obliged to submit.
+
+George Dawkins, unable to obtain a recommendation from Mr. Danforth, did
+not succeed in securing another place in New York. He finally prevailed
+upon his father to advance him a sum of money, with which he went to
+California. Let us hope that he may "turn over a new leaf" there, and
+establish a better reputation than he did in New York.
+
+Mr. Stubbs is still in the tin business. He is as happy as the day is
+long, and so are his wife and children. Once a year he comes to New York
+and pays Paul a visit. This supplies him with something to talk about
+for the rest of the year. He is frugal in his expenses, and is able
+to lay up a couple of hundred dollars every year, which he confides to
+Paul, in whose financial skill he has the utmost confidence.
+
+I am sure my boy readers would not forgive me for omitting to tell them
+something more about Ben Newcome. Although his mirthful spirit sometimes
+led him into mischief, he was good-hearted, and I have known him do many
+an act of kindness, even at considerable trouble to himself. It will be
+remembered that in consequence of his night adventure, during which
+he personated a ghost, much to the terror of Mr. Mudge his father
+determined to send him to a military school. This proved to be a
+wise arrangement. The discipline was such as Ben needed, and he soon
+distinguished himself by his excellence in the military drill. Soon
+after he graduated, the Rebellion broke out, and Ben was at once, in
+spite of his youth, elected Captain of the Wrenville company. At the
+battle of Antietam he acquitted himself with so much credit that he
+was promoted to a major. He was again promoted, and when Richmond was
+evacuated, he was one of the first officers to enter the streets of the
+Rebel capital, a colonel in command of his regiment. I have heard on
+high authority, that he is considered one of the best officers in the
+service.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Cameron are still living. They are happy in the success and
+increasing prosperity of Paul, whom they regard as a son. Between them
+and Aunt Lucy he would stand a very fair chance of being spoiled, if his
+own good sense and good judgment were not sufficient to save him from
+such a misfortune. Paul is now admitted to a small interest in the firm,
+which entitles him to a share in the profits. As Danforth and Co. have
+done a very extensive business of late years, this interest brings him
+in a very handsome income. There is only one cause of difference between
+him and the sexton. He insists that Uncle Hugh, who is getting infirm,
+should resign his office, as he is abundantly able to support the whole
+family. But the good sexton loves his duties, and will continue to
+discharge them as long as he is able.
+
+And now we must bid farewell to Paul. He has battled bravely with the
+difficulties and discouragements that beset him in early life, he
+has been faithful to the charge which he voluntarily assumed, and his
+father's memory is free from reproach. He often wishes that his father
+could have lived to witness his prosperity? but God has decreed it
+otherwise. Happy in the love of friends, and in the enjoyment of all
+that can make life desirable, so far as external circumstances have that
+power, let us all wish him God speed!
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Paul Prescott's Charge, by Horatio Alger
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+*Project Gutenberg's Etext of Paul Prescott's Charge, by Alger*
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+Paul Prescott's Charge
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+by Horatio Alger
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+
+ALGER SERIES FOR BOYS.
+UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME.
+BY HORATIO ALGER, JR.
+{about 50 titles}
+
+
+
+TO
+The Boys
+WHOSE MEMORY GOES BACK WITH ME
+TO THE BOARDING SCHOOL
+AT POTOWOME
+THIS VOLUME IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED
+BY
+THE AUTHOR.
+
+
+PREFACE
+----
+
+"PAUL PRESCOTT'S CHARGE" is presented to
+the public as the second volume of the Campaign
+Series.  Though wholly unlike the first
+volume, it is written in furtherance of the same
+main idea, that every boy's life is a campaign,
+more or less difficult, in which success depends
+upon integrity and a steadfast adherence to duty.
+
+How Paul Prescott gained strength by
+battling with adverse circumstances, and, under
+all discouragements, kept steadily before him
+the charge which he received from his dying
+father, is fully told; and the author will be
+glad if the record shall prove an incentive and
+an encouragement to those boys who may have
+a similar campaign before them.
+
+
+
+PAUL PRESCOTT'S CHARGE.
+
+
+
+I.
+
+SQUIRE NEWCOME.
+
+
+"HANNAH!"
+
+The speaker was a tall, pompous-looking
+man, whose age appeared to verge close upon
+fifty.  He was sitting bolt upright in a high-
+backed chair, and looked as if it would be
+quite impossible to deviate from his position
+of unbending rigidity.
+
+Squire Benjamin Newcome, as he was
+called, in the right of his position as Justice
+of the Peace, Chairman of the Selectmen, and
+wealthiest resident of Wrenville, was a man
+of rule and measure.  He was measured in his
+walk, measured in his utterance, and measured
+in all his transactions.  He might be
+called a dignified machine.  He had a very
+exalted conception of his own position, and the
+respect which he felt to be his due, not only
+from his own household, but from all who
+approached him.  If the President of the United
+States had called upon him, Squire Newcome
+would very probably have felt that he himself
+was the party who conferred distinction, and
+not received it.
+
+Squire Newcome was a widower.  His wife,
+who was as different from himself as could well
+be conceived, did not live long after marriage. 
+She was chilled to death, as it was thought, by
+the dignified iceberg of whose establishment
+she had become a part.  She had left, however,
+a child, who had now grown to be a boy
+of twelve.  This boy was a thorn in the side
+of his father, who had endeavored in vain to
+mould him according to his idea of propriety. 
+But Ben was gifted with a spirit of fun, sometimes
+running into mischief, which was constantly
+bursting out in new directions, in spite
+of his father's numerous and rather prosy lectures.
+
+"Han-nah!" again called Squire Newcome,
+separating the two syllables by a pause of
+deliberation, and strongly accenting the last
+syllable,--a habit of his with all proper names.
+
+Hannah was the Irish servant of all work,
+who was just then engaged in mixing up bread
+in the room adjoining, which was the kitchen.
+
+Feeling a natural reluctance to appear
+before her employer with her hands covered with
+dough, she hastily washed them.  All this,
+however, took time, and before she responded
+to the first summons, the second "Han-nah!"
+delivered with a little sharp emphasis, had
+been uttered.
+
+At length she appeared at the door of the
+sitting-room.
+
+"Han-nah!" said Squire Newcome, fixing
+his cold gray eye upon her, "when you hear my
+voice a calling you, it is your duty to answer
+the summons IMMEJIATELY."
+
+I have endeavored to represent the Squire's
+pronunciation of the last word.
+
+"So I would have come IMMEJOUSLY," said
+Hannah, displaying a most reprehensible
+ignorance, "but me hands were all covered
+with flour."
+
+"That makes no difference," interrupted the
+Squire.  "Flour is an accidental circumstance."
+
+"What's that?" thought Hannah, opening
+her eyes in amazement.
+
+"And should not be allowed to interpose an
+obstacle to an IMMEJIATE answer to my summons."
+
+"Sir," said Hannah, who guessed at the
+meaning though she did not understand the
+words, "you wouldn't have me dirty the door-
+handle with me doughy hands?"
+
+"That could easily be remedied by ablution."
+
+"There ain't any ablution in the house,"
+said the mystified Hannah.
+
+"I mean," Squire Newcome condescended
+to explain, "the application of water--in
+short, washing."
+
+"Shure," said Hannah, as light broke in
+upon her mind, "I never knew that was what
+they called it before."
+
+"Is Ben-ja-min at home?"
+
+"Yes, sir.  He was out playin' in the yard
+a minute ago.  I guess you can see him from
+the winder."
+
+So saying she stepped forward, and looking
+out, all at once gave a shrill scream, and
+rushed from the room, leaving her employer
+in his bolt-upright attitude gazing after
+her with as much astonishment as he was
+capable of.
+
+The cause of her sudden exit was revealed
+on looking out of the window.
+
+Master Benjamin, or Ben, as he was called
+everywhere except in his own family, had got
+possession of the black kitten, and appeared to
+be submerging her in the hogshead of rainwater.
+
+"O, you wicked, cruel boy, to drown poor
+Kitty!" exclaimed the indignant Hannah,
+rushing into the yard and endeavoring to
+snatch her feline favorite--an attempt which
+Ben stoutly resisted.
+
+Doubtless the poor kitten would have fared
+badly between the two, had not the window
+opened, and the deliberate voice of his father,
+called out in tones which Ben saw fit to heed.
+
+"What?"
+
+"Come into my presence immejiately, and
+learn to answer me with more respect."
+
+Ben came in looking half defiant.
+
+His father, whose perpendicularity made
+him look like a sitting grenadier, commenced
+the examination thus:--
+
+"I wish you to inform me what you was a
+doing of when I spoke to you."
+
+It will be observed that the Squire's dignified
+utterances were sometimes a little at variance
+with the rule of the best modern grammarians.
+
+"I was trying to prevent Hannah from
+taking the kitten," said Ben.
+
+"What was you a doing of before Hannah
+went out?"
+
+"Playing with Kitty."
+
+"Why were you standing near the hogshead, Benjamin?"
+
+"Why," said Ben, ingenuously, "the
+hogshead happened to be near me--that was all."
+
+"Were you not trying to drown the kitten?"
+
+"O, I wouldn't drown her for anything,"
+said Ben with an injured expression, mentally
+adding, "short of a three-cent piece."
+
+"Then, to repeat my interrogatory, what
+was you a doing of with the kitten in the hogshead?"
+
+"I was teaching her to swim," said Ben,
+looking out of the corner of his eye at his
+father, to see what impression this explanation
+made upon him.
+
+"And what advantageous result do you
+think would be brought about by teaching of
+the kitten to swim, Benjamin?" persisted his
+father.
+
+"Advantageous result!" repeated Ben,
+demurely, pretending not to understand.
+
+"Certingly."
+
+"What does that mean?"
+
+"Do you not study your dictionary at
+school, Benjamin?"
+
+"Yes, but I don't like it much."
+
+"You are very much in error.  You will
+never learn to employ your tongue with elegance
+and precision, unless you engage in this
+beneficial study."
+
+"I can use my tongue well enough, without
+studying grammar," said Ben.  He proceeded
+to illustrate the truth of this assertion
+by twisting his tongue about in a comical
+manner.
+
+"Tongue," exclaimed his father, "is but
+another name for language I mean your
+native language."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+Ben was about to leave the room to avoid
+further questions of an embarrassing nature,
+when his father interrupted his exit by saying--
+
+"Stay, Benjamin, do not withdraw till I
+have made all the inquiries which I intend."
+
+The boy unwillingly returned.
+
+"You have not answered my question."
+
+"I've forgotten what it was."
+
+"What good would it do?" asked the
+Squire, simplifying his speech to reach Ben's
+comprehension, "what good would it do to
+teach the kitten to swim?"
+
+"O, I thought," said Ben, hesitating, "that
+some time or other she might happen to fall
+into the water, and might not be able to get
+out unless she knew how."
+
+"I think," said his father with an unusual
+display of sagacity, "that she will be in much
+greater hazard of drowning while learning to
+swim under your direction than by any other
+chance likely to befall her."
+
+"Shouldn't wonder," was Ben's mental comment,
+"Pretty cute for you, dad."
+
+Fortunately, Ben did not express his
+thoughts aloud.  They would have implied
+such an utter lack of respect that the Squire
+would have been quite overwhelmed by the
+reflection that his impressive manners had
+produced no greater effect on one who had so
+excellent a chance of being impressed by them.
+
+"Benjamin," concluded his father, "I have
+an errand for you to execute.  You may go to
+Mr. Prescott's and see if he is yet living.  I
+hear that he is a lying on the brink of the
+grave."
+
+An expression of sadness stole over the
+usually merry face of Ben, as he started on his
+errand.
+
+"Poor Paul!" he thought, "what will he do
+when his father dies?  He's such a capital
+fellow, too.  I just wish I had a wagon load
+of money, I do, and I'd give him half.  That's
+so!"
+
+
+
+II.
+
+PAUL PRESCOTT'S HOME.
+
+
+We will precede Ben on his visit to the house
+of Mr. Prescott.
+
+It was an old weather-beaten house, of one
+story, about half a mile distant from 'Squire
+Newcome's residence.  The Prescott family
+had lived here for five years, or ever since they
+had removed to Wrenville.  Until within a
+year they had lived comfortably, when two
+blows came in quick succession.  The first was
+the death of Mrs. Prescott, an excellent woman,
+whose loss was deeply felt by her husband
+and son.  Soon afterwards Mr. Prescott, a
+carpenter by trade, while at work upon the
+roof of a high building, fell off, and not only
+broke his leg badly, but suffered some internal
+injury of a still more serious nature.  He had
+not been able to do a stroke of work since. 
+After some months it became evident that he
+would never recover.  A year had now passed. 
+During this time his expenses had swallowed
+up the small amount which he had succeeded
+in laying up previous to his sickness.  It was
+clear that at his death there would be nothing
+left.  At thirteen years of age Paul would have
+to begin the world without a penny.
+
+Mr. Prescott lay upon a bed in a small bedroom
+adjoining the kitchen.  Paul, a thoughtful-
+looking boy sat beside it, ready to answer
+his call.
+
+There had been silence for some time, when
+Mr. Prescott called feebly--
+
+"Paul!"
+
+"I am here, father," said Paul.
+
+"I am almost gone, Paul, I don't think I
+shall last through the day."
+
+"O, father," said Paul, sorrowfully, "Don't
+leave me."
+
+"That is the only grief I have in dying--I
+must leave you to struggle for yourself, Paul. 
+I shall be able to leave you absolutely nothing."
+
+"Don't think of that, father.  I am young
+and strong--I can earn my living in some
+way."
+
+"I hoped to live long enough to give you
+an education.  I wanted you to have a fairer
+start in the world than I had."
+
+"Never mind, father," said Paul, soothingly,
+"Don't be uneasy about me.  God will provide
+for me."
+
+Again there was a silence, broken only by
+the difficult breathing of the sick man.
+
+He spoke again.
+
+"There is one thing, Paul, that I want to
+tell you before I die."
+
+Paul drew closer to the bedside.
+
+"It is something which has troubled me as
+I lay here.  I shall feel easier for speaking of
+it.  You remember that we lived at Cedarville
+before we came here."
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+"About two years before we left there, a
+promising speculation was brought to my
+notice.  An agent of a Lake Superior mine
+visited our village and represented the mine in
+so favorable a light that many of my neighbors
+bought shares, fully expecting to double their
+money in a year.  Among the rest I was attacked
+with the fever of speculation.  I had
+always been obliged to work hard for a moderate
+compensation, and had not been able to
+do much more than support my family.  This
+it seemed to me, afforded an excellent opportunity
+of laying up a little something which
+might render me secure in the event of a sudden
+attack of sickness.  I had but about two
+hundred dollars, however, and from so scanty
+an investment I could not, of course, expect a
+large return; accordingly I went to Squire
+Conant; you remember him, Paul?"
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+`I went to him and asked a loan of five hundred
+dollars.  After some hesitation he agreed
+to lend it to me.  He was fond of his money
+and not much given to lending, but it so happened
+that he had invested in the same speculation,
+and had a high opinion of it, so he felt
+pretty safe in advancing me the money.  Well,
+this loan gave me seven hundred dollars, with
+which I purchased seven shares in the Lake
+Superior Grand Combination Mining Company. 
+For some months afterwards, I felt
+like a rich man.  I carefully put away my
+certificate of stock, looking upon it as the
+beginning of a competence.  But at the end of six
+months the bubble burst--the stock proved to
+be utterly worthless,--Squire Conant lost five
+thousand dollars.  I lost seven hundred, five
+hundred being borrowed money.  The Squire's
+loss was much larger, but mine was the more
+serious, since I lost everything and was
+plunged into debt, while he had at least forty
+thousand dollars left.
+
+"Two days after the explosion, Squire
+Conant came into my shop and asked abruptly
+when I could pay him the amount I had borrowed. 
+I told him that I could not fix a time. 
+I said that I had been overwhelmed by a result
+so contrary to my anticipations, but I told
+him I would not rest till I had done something
+to satisfy his claim.  He was always an
+unreasonable man, and reproached me bitterly
+for sinking his money in a useless speculation,
+as if I could foresee how it would end any better
+than he."
+
+"Have you ever been able to pay back any
+part of the five hundred dollars, father?"
+
+"I have paid the interest regularly, and a
+year ago, just before I met with my accident,
+I had laid up a hundred and fifty dollars which
+I had intended to pay the Squire, but when my
+sickness came I felt obliged to retain it to defray
+our expenses, being cut off from earning
+anything"
+
+"Then I suppose you have not been able to
+pay interest for the last year."
+
+"No."
+
+"Have you heard from the Squire lately?"
+
+"Yes, I had a letter only last week.  You
+remember bringing me one postmarked Cedarville?"
+
+"Yes, I wondered at the time who it could
+be from."
+
+"You will find it on the mantelpiece.  I
+should like to have you get it and read it."
+
+Paul readily found the letter.  It was
+enclosed in a brown envelope, directed in a bold
+hand to "Mr. John Prescott, Wrenville."
+
+The letter was as follows:--
+
+
+CEDARVILLE, APRIL 15, 18--,
+MR. JOHN PRESCOTT:--
+
+SIR:  I have been waiting impatiently to hear something
+about the five hundred dollars in which sum you are indebted
+to me, on account of a loan which I was fool enough to make
+you seven years since.  I thought you an honest man, but I
+have found, to my cost, that I was mistaken.  For the last
+year you have even failed to pay interest as stipulated between
+us.  Your intention is evident.  I quite understand that you
+have made up your mind to defraud me of what is rightfully
+mine.  I don't know how you may regard this, but I consider
+it as bad as highway robbery.  I do not hesitate to say that
+if you had your deserts you would be in the Penitentiary. 
+Let me advise you, if you wish to avoid further trouble, to
+make no delay in paying a portion of this debt.
+                         Yours, etc.
+                                   EZEKIEL CONANT.
+
+
+Paul's face flushed with indignation as he
+read this bitter and cruel letter.
+
+"Does Squire Conant know that you are
+sick, father?" he inquired.
+
+"Yes, I wrote him about my accident, telling
+him at the same time that I regretted it in
+part on account of the interruption which it
+must occasion in my payments."
+
+"And knowing this, he wrote such a letter
+as that," said Paul, indignantly, "what a hard,
+unfeeling wretch he must be!"
+
+"I suppose it is vexatious to him to be kept
+out of his money."
+
+"But he has plenty more.  He would never
+miss it if he had given it to you outright."
+
+"That is not the way to look at it, Paul. 
+The money is justly his, and it is a great sorrow
+to me that I must die without paying it."
+
+"Father," said Paul, after a pause, "will it
+be any relief to you, if I promise to pay it,--
+that is, if I am ever able?"
+
+Mr. Prescott's face brightened.
+
+"That was what I wanted to ask you, Paul. 
+It will be a comfort to me to feel thar there is
+some hope of the debt being paid at some
+future day."
+
+"Then don't let it trouble you any longer,
+father.  The debt shall be mine, and I will pay
+it.
+
+Again a shadow passed over the sick man's
+face, "Poor boy," he said, "why should I
+burden your young life with such a load?  You
+will have to struggle hard enough as it is.  No,
+Paul, recall your promise.  I don't want to
+purchase comfort at such a price."
+
+"No, father," said Paul sturdily, "it is too
+late now.  I have made the promise and I mean
+to stick to it.  Besides, it will give me something
+to live for.  I am young--I may have a
+great many years before me.  For thirteen
+years you have supported me.  It is only right
+that I should make what return I can.  I'll
+keep my promise, father."
+
+"May God help and prosper you, my boy,"
+said Mr. Prescott, solemnly.  "You've been a
+good son; I pray that you may grow up to be a
+good man.  But, my dear, I feel tired.  I think
+I will try to go to sleep."
+
+Paul smoothed the comforter, adjusting it
+carefully about his father's neck, and going
+to the door went out in search of some wood
+to place upon the fire.  Their scanty stock of
+firewood was exhausted, and Paul was obliged
+to go into the woods near by, to obtain such
+loose fagots as he might find upon the ground.
+
+He was coming back with his load when his
+attention was drawn by a whistle.  Looking up
+he discovered Ben Newcome approaching him.
+
+"How are you, Paul?"
+
+"Pretty well, Ben."
+
+"How precious lonesome you must be,
+mewed up in the house all the time."
+
+"Yes, it is lonesome, but I wouldn't mind
+that if I thought father would ever get any
+better."
+
+"How is he this morning?"
+
+"Pretty low; I expect he is asleep.  He said
+he was tired just before I went out."
+
+"I brought over something for you," said
+Ben, tugging away at his pocket.
+
+Opening a paper he displayed a couple of
+apple turnovers fried brown.
+
+"I found 'em in the closet," he said.
+
+"Won't Hannah make a precious row when
+she finds 'em gone?"
+
+"Then I don't know as I ought to take
+them," said Paul, though, to tell the truth,
+they looked tempting to him.
+
+"O, nonsense," said Ben; "they don't belong
+to Hannah.  She only likes to scold a
+little; it does her good."
+
+The two boys sat on the doorstep and talked
+while Paul ate the turnovers.  Ben watched
+the process with much satisfaction.
+
+"Ain't they prime?" he said.
+
+"First rate," said Paul; `won't you have
+one?"
+
+"No," said Ben; "you see I thought while
+I was about it I might as well take four, so I
+ate two coming along."
+
+In about fifteen minutes Paul went into the
+house to look at his father.  He was lying very
+quietly upon the bed.  Paul drew near and
+looked at him more closely.  There was something
+in the expression of his father's face
+which terrified him.
+
+Ben heard his sudden cry of dismay, and
+hurriedly entered.
+
+Paul pointed to the bed, and said briefly,
+"Father's dead!"
+
+Ben, who in spite of his mischievous
+propensities was gifted with a warm heart, sat
+down beside Paul, and passing his arm round
+his neck, gave him that silent sympathy which
+is always so grateful to the grief-stricken heart.
+
+
+
+
+III.
+
+PAUL'S BRILLIANT PROSPECTS.
+
+
+Two days later, the funeral of Mr. Prescott
+took place.
+
+Poor Paul!  It seemed to him a dream of
+inexpressible sorrow.  His father and mother
+both gone, he felt that he was indeed left alone
+in the world.  No thought of the future had
+yet entered his mind.  He was wholly occupied
+with his present sorrow.  Desolate at heart he
+slipped away from the graveyard after the
+funeral ceremony was over, and took his way
+back again to the lonely dwelling which he had
+called home.
+
+As he was sitting in the corner, plunged in
+sorrowful thought, there was a scraping heard
+at the door, and a loud hem!
+
+Looking up, Paul saw entering the cottage
+the stiff form of Squire Benjamin Newcome,
+who, as has already been stated, was the
+owner.
+
+"Paul," said the Squire, with measured deliberation.
+
+"Do you mean me, sir?" asked Paul,
+vaguely conscious that his name had been called.
+
+"Did I not address you by your baptismal
+appellation?" demanded the Squire, who
+thought the boy's question superfluous.
+
+"Paul," pursued Squire Newcome, "have
+you thought of your future destination?"
+
+"No, sir," said Paul, "I suppose I shall live here."
+
+"That arrangement would not be consistent
+with propriety.  I suppose you are aware that
+your deceased parent left little or no worldly
+goods."
+
+"I know he was poor."
+
+"Therefore it has been thought best that
+you should be placed in charge of a worthy
+man, who I see is now approaching the house. 
+You will therefore accompany him without
+resistance.  If you obey him and read the
+Bible regularly, you will--ahem!--you will
+some time or other see the advantage of it."
+
+With this consolatory remark Squire Newcome
+wheeled about and strode out of the
+house.
+
+Immediately afterwards there entered a
+rough-looking man arrayed in a farmer's blue frock.
+
+"You're to come with me, youngster," said
+Mr. Nicholas Mudge, for that was his name.
+
+"With you?" said Paul, recoiling instinctively.
+
+In fact there was nothing attractive in the
+appearance or manners of Mr. Mudge.  He had
+a coarse hard face, while his head was surmounted
+by a shock of red hair, which to all
+appearance had suffered little interference
+from the comb for a time which the observer
+would scarcely venture to compute.  There
+was such an utter absence of refinement about
+the man, that Paul, who had been accustomed
+to the gentle manners of his father, was repelled
+by the contrast which this man exhibited.
+
+"To be sure you're to go with me," said Mr.
+Mudge.  "You did not calc'late you was a
+goin' to stay here by yourself, did you?  We've
+got a better place for you than that.  But the
+wagon's waitin' outside, so just be lively and
+bundle in, and I'll carry you to where you're
+a goin' to live."
+
+"Where's that?"
+
+"Wal, some folks call it the Poor House, but
+it ain't any the worse for that, I expect.  Anyhow,
+them as has no money may feel themselves
+lucky to get so good a home.  So jest be
+a movin', for I can't be a waitin' here all day."
+
+Paul quietly submitted himself to the guidance
+of Mr. Mudge.  He was so occupied with
+the thought of his sad loss that he did not
+realize the change that was about to take
+place in his circumstances.
+
+About half a mile from the village in the
+bleakest and most desolate part of the town,
+stood the Poor House.  It was a crazy old
+building of extreme antiquity, which, being no
+longer considered fit for an ordinary dwelling-
+house, had been selected as a suitable residence
+for the town's poor.  It was bleak and comfortless
+to be sure, but on that very account
+had been purchased at a trifling expense, and
+that was, of course, a primary consideration. 
+Connected with the house were some dozen
+acres of rough-looking land, plentifully over-
+spread with stones, which might have filled
+with despair the most enterprising agriculturist. 
+However, it had this recommendation at
+least, that it was quite in character with the
+buildings upon it, which in addition to the
+house already described, consisted of a barn
+of equal antiquity and a pig pen.
+
+This magnificent domain was under the
+superintendence of Mr. Nicholas Mudge, who in
+consideration of taking charge of the town
+paupers had the use of the farm and buildings,
+rent free, together with a stipulated weekly
+sum for each of the inmates.
+
+"Well, Paul," said Mr. Mudge, as they
+approached the house, in a tone which was meant
+to be encouraging, "this is goin' to be your
+home.  How do you like it?"
+
+Thus addressed, Paul ventured a glance around him.
+
+`I don't know," said he, doubtfully;
+"it don't look very pleasant."
+
+"Don't look very pleasant!" repeated Mr.
+Mudge in a tone of mingled amazement and
+indignation.  "Well, there's gratitude for you. 
+After the town has been at the expense of providin'
+a nice, comfortable home for you, because
+you haven't got any of your own, you
+must turn up your nose at it."
+
+"I didn't mean to complain," said Paul,
+feeling very little interest in the matter.
+
+"Perhaps you expected to live in a marble
+palace," pursued Mr. Mudge, in an injured
+tone.  "We don't have any marble palaces in
+this neighborhood, we don't."
+
+Paul disclaimed any such anticipation.
+
+Mr. Mudge deigned to accept Paul's apology,
+and as they had now reached the door,
+unceremoniously threw it open, and led the way
+into a room with floor unpainted, which, to
+judge from its appearance, was used as a
+kitchen.
+
+
+
+IV.
+
+LIFE IN A NEW PHASE.
+
+
+Everything was "at sixes and sevens," as
+the saying is, in the room Mr. Mudge and Paul
+had just entered.  In the midst of the scene
+was a large stout woman, in a faded calico
+dress, and sleeves rolled up, working as if her
+life or the world's destiny depended upon it.
+
+It was evident from the first words of Mr.
+Mudge that this lady was his helpmeet.
+
+"Well, wife," he said, "I've brought you
+another boarder.  You must try to make him as
+happy and contented as the rest of 'em are."
+
+From the tone of the speaker, the last words
+might be understood to be jocular.
+
+Mrs. Mudge, whose style of beauty was not
+improved by a decided squint, fixed a scrutinizing
+gaze upon Paul, and he quite naturally
+returned it.
+
+"Haven't you ever seen anybody before,
+boy?  I guess you'll know me next time."
+
+"Shouldn't wonder if he did," chuckled Mr. Mudge.
+
+"I don't know where on earth we shall put
+him," remarked the lady.  "We're full now."
+
+"Oh, put him anywhere.  I suppose you won't be
+very particular about your accommodations?"
+said Mr. Mudge turning to Paul.
+
+Paul very innocently answered in the negative,
+thereby affording Mr. Mudge not a little amusement.
+
+"Well, that's lucky," he said, "because our
+best front chamber's occupied just now.  We'd
+have got it ready for you if you'd only wrote a
+week ago to tell us you were coming.  You
+can just stay round here," he said in a different
+tone as he was about leaving the room,
+"Mrs. Mudge will maybe want you to do something
+for her.  You can sit down till she calls on you."
+
+It was washing day with Mrs. Mudge, and
+of course she was extremely busy.  The water
+was to be brought from a well in the yard, and
+to this office Paul was at once delegated.  It
+was no easy task, the full pails tugging most
+unmercifully at his arms.  However, this was
+soon over, and Mrs. Mudge graciously gave
+him permission to go into the adjoining room,
+and make acquaintance with his fellow-boarders.
+
+There were nine of them in all, Paul, the
+newcomer making the tenth.  They were all
+advanced in years, except one young woman,
+who was prevented by mental aberration from
+supporting herself outside the walls of
+the Institution.
+
+Of all present, Paul's attention was most
+strongly attracted towards one who appeared
+more neatly and scrupulously attired than any
+of the rest.
+
+Aunt Lucy Lee, or plain Aunt Lucy, for in
+her present abode she had small use for her
+last name, was a benevolent-looking old lady,
+who both in dress and manners was distinguished
+from her companions.  She rose from
+her knitting, and kindly took Paul by the hand. 
+Children are instinctive readers of character,
+and Paul, after one glance at her benevolent
+face, seated himself contentedly beside her.
+
+"I suppose," said the old lady, socially,
+"you've come to live with us.  We must do all
+we can to make you comfortable.  Your name
+is Paul Prescott, I think Mrs. Mudge said."
+
+"Yes, ma'am" answered Paul, watching the
+rapid movement of the old lady's fingers.
+
+"Mine is Aunt Lucy," she continued, "that
+is what everybody calls me.  So now we know
+each other, and shall soon be good friends, I
+hope.  I suppose you have hardly been here
+long enough to tell how you shall like it."
+
+Paul confessed that thus far he did not find
+it very pleasant.
+
+"No, I dare say not," said Aunt Lucy, "I
+can't say I think it looks very attractive
+myself.  However, it isn't wholly the fault of Mr.
+and Mrs. Mudge.  They can't afford to do
+much better, for the town allows them very little."
+
+Aunt Lucy's remarks were here interrupted
+by the apparition of the worthy landlady at
+the door.
+
+"Dinner's ready, folks," said that lady, with
+little ceremony, "and you must come out
+quick if you want any, for I'm drove with
+work, and can't be hindered long."
+
+The summons was obeyed with alacrity, and
+the company made all haste to the dining-room,
+or rather the kitchen, for it was here that the
+meals were eaten.
+
+In the center of the room was set a table
+without a cloth, a table-cloth being considered
+a luxury quite superfluous.  Upon this were
+placed several bowls of thin, watery liquid,
+intended for soup, but which, like city milk, was
+diluted so as hardly to be distinguishable. 
+Beside each bowl was a slice of bread.
+
+Such was the bill of fare.
+
+"Now, folks, the sooner you fall to the
+better," exclaimed the energetic Mrs. Mudge, who
+was one of those driving characters, who
+consider any time spent at the table beyond ten
+minutes as so much time wasted.
+
+The present company appeared to need no
+second invitation.  Their scanty diet had the
+positive advantage of giving them a good
+appetite; otherwise the quality of their food
+might have daunted them.
+
+Paul took his place beside Aunt Lucy. 
+Mechanically he did as the rest, carrying to his
+mouth a spoonful of the liquid.  But his appetite
+was not sufficiently accustomed to Poor House regime
+to enable him to relish its standing dish, and he laid
+down his spoon with a disappointed look.
+
+He next attacked the crust of bread, but
+found it too dry to be palatable.
+
+"Please, ma'am," said he to Mrs. Mudge,
+"I should like some butter."
+
+Paul's companions dropped their spoons in
+astonishment at his daring, and Mrs. Mudge
+let fall a kettle she was removing from the fire,
+in sheer amazement.
+
+"What did you ask for?" she inquired, as if
+to make sure that her ears did not deceive her.
+
+"A little butter," repeated Paul, unconscious
+of the great presumption of which he had been guilty.
+
+"You want butter, do you?" repeated Mr. Mudge.
+"Perhaps you'd like a slice of beefsteak
+and a piece of plum-pudding too, wouldn't you?"
+
+"I should very much," said Paul, resolved
+to tell the truth, although he now began to
+perceive the sarcasm in his landlady's tone.
+
+"There isn't anything more you would like,
+is there?" inquired the lady, with mock politeness.
+
+"No, ma'am," returned Paul after a pause,
+"I believe not, to-day."
+
+"Very moderate, upon my word," exclaimed
+Mrs. Mudge, giving vent at length to her pent-
+up indignation.  "You'll be contented with
+butter and roast beef and plum-pudding!  A
+mighty fine gentleman, to be sure.  But you
+won't get them here, I'll be bound."
+
+"So will I," thought Aunt Lucy.
+
+"If you ain't satisfied with what I give you,"
+pursued Mrs. Mudge, "you'd better go somewhere
+else.  You can put up at some of the
+great hotels.  Butter, forsooth!"
+
+Having thus given expression to her feelings,
+she left the room, and Paul was left to
+finish his dinner with the best appetite he could
+command.  He was conscious that he had offended
+Mrs. Mudge, but the thoughts of his recent great
+sorrow swallowed up all minor annoyances, so that
+the words of his estimable landlady were forgotten
+almost as soon as they were uttered.  He felt that
+he must henceforth look for far different treatment
+from that to which he had been accustomed during his
+father's lifetime.
+
+His thoughts were interrupted in a manner
+somewhat ludicrous, by the crazy girl who sat
+next to him coolly appropriating to herself his
+bowl of soup, having already disposed of her own.
+
+"Look," said Aunt Lucy, quickly, calling
+Paul's attention, "you are losing your dinner."
+
+"Never mind," said Paul, amused in spite of
+his sadness, "she is quite welcome to it if she
+likes it; I can't eat it."
+
+So the dinner began and ended.  It was very
+brief and simple, occupying less than ten
+minutes, and comprising only one course--
+unless the soup was considered the first course,
+and the bread the second.  Paul left the table
+as hungry as he came to it.  Aunt Lucy's appetite
+had become accustomed to the Mudge diet,
+and she wisely ate what was set before her,
+knowing that there was no hope of anything better.
+
+About an hour after dinner Ben Newcome came
+to the door of the Poor House and inquired for Paul.
+
+Mrs. Mudge was in one of her crusty moods.
+
+"You can't see him," said she.
+
+"And why not?" said Ben, resolutely.
+
+"Because he's busy."
+
+"You'd better let me see him," said Ben, sturdily.
+
+"I should like to know what's going to happen
+if I don't," said Mrs. Mudge, with wrathful
+eyes, and arms akimbo.
+
+"I shall go home and report to my father,"
+said Ben, coolly.
+
+"Who is your father?" asked Mrs. Mudge,
+for she did not recognize her visitor.
+
+"My father's name is Newcome--Squire Newcome,
+some call him."
+
+Now it so happened that Squire Newcome
+was Chairman of the Overseers of the Poor,
+and in that capacity might remove Mr. Mudge
+from office if he pleased.  Accordingly Mrs.
+Mudge softened down at once, on learning that
+Ben was his son.
+
+"Oh," said she, "I didn't know who it was.
+I thought it might be some idle boy from the
+village who would only take Paul from his
+work, but if you have a message from your father----"
+
+This she said to ascertain whether he really
+had any message or not, but Ben, who had
+in fact come without his father's knowledge,
+only bowed, and said, in a patronizing manner,
+"I accept your apology, Mrs. Mudge. 
+Will you have the goodness to send Paul out?"
+
+"Won't you step in?" asked Mrs. Mudge
+with unusual politeness.
+
+"No, I believe not."
+
+Paul was accordingly sent out.
+
+He was very glad to meet his schoolmate and
+playfellow, Ben, who by his gayety, spiced
+though it was with roguery, had made himself
+a general favorite in school.
+
+"I say, Paul," said Ben, "I'm sorry to find
+you in such a place."
+
+"It isn't very pleasant," said Paul, rather soberly.
+
+"And that woman--Mrs. Mudge--she looks
+as if she might be a regular spitfire, isn't she?"
+
+"Rather so."
+
+"I only wish the old gentleman--meaning
+of course, the Squire--would take you to live
+with me.  I want a fellow to play with.  But
+I say, Paul, go and get your hat, and we'll go
+out for a walk."
+
+"I don't know what Mrs. Mudge will say,"
+said Paul, who had just come from turning
+the handle of a churn.
+
+"Just call Mrs. Mudge, and I'll manage it."
+
+Mrs. Mudge being summoned, made her
+appearance at the door.
+
+"I presume, ma'am," said Ben, confidently,
+"you will have no objection to Paul's taking
+a walk with me while I deliver the message I
+am entrusted with."
+
+"Certainly," said Mrs. Mudge, rather
+unwillingly, but not venturing to refuse.
+
+"It takes me to come it over the old lady,"
+said Ben, when they were out of hearing.
+
+"Now, we'll go a fishing."
+
+
+V.
+
+A CRISIS.
+
+
+Before sunrise the next morning Paul was
+awakened by a rude shake from Mr. Mudge,
+with an intimation that he had better get up,
+as there was plenty of work before him.
+
+By the light of the lantern, for as yet it was
+too dark to dispense with it, Paul dressed himself. 
+Awakened from a sound sleep, he hardly
+had time to collect his thoughts, and it was
+with a look of bewilderment that he surveyed
+the scene about him.  As Mrs. Mudge had said,
+they were pretty full already, and accordingly
+a rude pallet had been spread for him in the
+attic, of which, with the exception of nocturnal
+marauders, he was the only occupant.  Paul
+had not, to be sure, been used to very superior
+accommodations, and if the bed had not been
+quite so hard, he would have got along very
+well.  As it was he was separated from slats
+only by a thin straw bed which did not improve
+matters much.  It was therefore with a
+sense of weariness which slumber had not
+dissipated, that Paul arose at the summons
+of Mr. Mudge.
+
+When he reached the kitchen, he found that
+gentleman waiting for him.
+
+"Do you know how to milk?" was his first salutation.
+
+"I never learned," said Paul.
+
+"Then you'll have to, in double-quick time,"
+was the reply, "for I don't relish getting up so
+early, and you can take it off my hands."
+
+The two proceeded to the barn, where Paul
+received his first lesson in this important
+branch of education.
+
+Mr. Mudge kept five cows.  One might have
+thought he could have afforded a moderate
+supply of milk to his boarders, but all, with
+the exception of a single quart, was sold to the
+milkman who passed the door every morning.
+
+After breakfast, which was on the same
+economical plan with the dinner of the day
+previous, Paul was set to work planting potatoes,
+at which he was kept steadily employed
+till the dinner-hour.
+
+Poor Paul! his back ached dreadfully, for he
+had never before done any harder work than
+trifiing services for his father.  But the
+inexorable Mr. Mudge was in sight, and however
+much he wished, he did not dare to lay aside
+his hoe even for a moment.
+
+Twelve o'clock found him standing beside
+the dinner-table.  He ate more heartily than
+before, for his forenoon's labor made even
+poorhouse fare palatable.
+
+Mrs. Mudge observed the change, and remarked
+in a satisfied tone.  "Well, my fine
+gentleman, I see you are coming to your
+appetite.  I thought you wouldn't hold out long."
+
+Paul, who had worn off something of his
+diffidence, could not help feeling indignant at
+this speech; unaccustomed to be addressed in
+this way, the taunt jarred upon his feelings,
+but he only bit his lip and preserved silence.
+
+Aunt Lucy, too, who had come to feel a
+strong interest in Paul, despite her natural
+mildness, could not resist the temptation of
+saying with some warmth, "what's the use of
+persecuting the child?  He has sorrows enough
+of his own without your adding to them."
+
+Mrs. Mudge was not a little incensed at this remonstrance.
+
+"I should like to know, ma'am, who
+requested you to put in your oar!" she said with
+arms akimbo.  "Anybody wouldn't think from
+your lofty airs that you lived in the poorhouse; 
+
+I'll thank you to mind your own business in the future,
+and not meddle with what don't concern you."
+
+Aunt Lucy was wise enough to abstain from provoking
+further the wrath of her amiable landlady,
+and continued to eat her soup in silence.
+But Mrs. Mudge neer forgot this interference,
+nor the cause of it, and henceforth with the
+malignity of a narrow-minded and spiteful woman,
+did what she could to make Paul uncomfortable.
+Her fertile ingenuity always found some new taunt,
+or some new reproach, to assail him with. But Paul,
+though at first he felt indignant, learned at last
+to treat them as they deserved, with silent disdain.
+Assured of the sympathy of those around him, he did
+not allow his appetite to be spoiled by any remark
+which Mrs. Mudge might offer.
+
+This, of course, only provoked her the more,
+and she strove to have his daily tasks increased,
+in the amiable hope that his "proud spirit"
+might be tamed thereby.
+
+Mr. Mudge, who was somewhat under petticoat government,
+readily acceded to his wife's wishes, and henceforth
+Paul's strength was taxed to its utmost limit.
+He was required to be up with the first gray tint
+of dawn and attend to the cattle.  From this time until
+night, except the brief time devoted to his meals, he was
+incessantly occupied.  Aunt Lucy's society, his chief comfort,
+was thus taken from him; since, in order to rise early,
+he was obliged to go to bed as soon as possible after 
+day's work was finished.
+
+The effects of such incessant labor without
+a sufficient supply of nourishing food, may easily
+be imagined.  The dry bread and meagre soup which
+constituted the chief articles of diet in Mrs.
+Mudge's economical household, had but one
+recommendation,--they were effectual preventives of
+gluttony.  It was reported that on one occasion a
+beggar, apparently famishing with hunger, not
+knowing the character of the house, made application
+at the door for food. In an unusual fit of
+generosity, Mrs. Mudge furnished him with a
+slice of bread and a bowl of soup, which, however,
+proved so farfrom tempting that the beggar, hungry
+as he was, left them almost untouched.
+
+One day, as Paul was working in the field at a
+little distance from Mr. Mudge, he became conscious
+of a peculiar feeling of giddiness which compelled
+him to cling to the hoe for support,--otherwise he
+must have fallen.
+
+"No laziness there," exclaimed Mr. Mudge, observing
+Paul's cessation from labor, "We can't support you
+in idleness."
+
+But the boy paid no regard to this adminition, and
+Mr. Mudge, somewhat surprised, advanced toward him
+to enforce the command. 
+
+Even he was startled at the unusual paleness of
+Paul's face, and inquired in a less peremptory tone,
+"what's the matter?"
+
+"I feel sick," gasped Paul.
+
+Without another word, Mr. Mudge took Paul up in his
+arms and carried him into the house.
+
+"What's the matter, now?" asked his wife, meeting
+him at the door.
+
+"The boy feels a little sick, but I guess he'll get
+over it by-and by.  Haven't you got a little soup
+that you can give him?  I reckon he's faint, and
+that'll brighten him up."
+
+Paul evidently did not think so, for he motioned
+away a bowl of the delightful mixture, though it was
+proffered him by the fair hands of Mrs. Mudge.  The
+lady was somewhat surprised, and said, roughly,
+"I shouldn't wonder if he was only trying to shirk."
+
+This was too much even for Mr. Mudge; "The boy's
+sick," said he, "that's plain enough; if he don't
+get better soon, I must send for the doctor,
+for work drives, and I can't spare him."
+
+"There's no more danger of his being sick than
+mine," said Mrs. Mudge, emphatically; "however, if
+you're fool enough to go for a doctor, that's none
+of my business.  I've heard of feigning sickness
+before now, to get rid of work.  As to his being
+pale, I've been as pale as that myself sometimes
+without your troubling yourself very much about me."
+
+"'Twon't be any expense to us," alleged Mr. Mudge,
+in a tone of justification, for he felt in some awe
+of his wife's temper, which was none of the mildest
+when a little roused, "'Twon't be any expense to us;
+the town has got to pay for it, and as long as it
+will get him ready for work sooner, we might as well
+take advantage of it."
+
+This consideration somewhat reconciled Mrs. Mudge to
+the step proposed, and as Paul, instead of getting
+better, grew rapidly worse, Mr. Mudge thought it
+expedient to go immediately for the village
+physician.  Luckily Dr. Townsend was at home,
+and an hour afterwards found him standing
+beside the sick boy.
+
+"I don't know but you'll think it rather foolish,
+our sending for you, doctor," said Mrs. Mudge, "but
+Mudge would have it that the boy was sick and so he
+went for you."
+
+"And he did quite right," said Dr. Townsend,
+noticing the ghastly
+pallor of Paul's face. "He is a very sick boy, and
+if I had not been called I would not have answered
+for the consequences.  How do you feel, my boy?"
+he inquired of Paul.
+
+"I feel very weak, and my head swims," was the reply.
+
+"How and when did this attack come on?" asked the doctor,
+turning to Mr. Mudge.
+
+"He was taken while hoeing in the field," was the reply.
+
+"Have you kept him at work much there lately?"
+
+"Well, yes, I've been drove by work, and he has
+worked there all day latterly."
+
+"At what time has he gone to work in the morning?"
+
+"He has got up to milk the cows about five o'clock. 
+I used to do it, but since he has learned, I have
+indulged myself a little."
+
+"It would have been well for him if he had enjoyed
+the same privilege.  It is my duty to speak plainly. 
+The sickness of this boy lies at your door.  He has
+never been accustomed to hard labor, and yet you have
+obliged him to rise earlier and work later than most men.
+No wonder he feels weak.  Has he a good appetite?"
+
+"Well, rather middlin'," said Mrs. Mudge, "but it's mainly
+because he's too dainty to eat what's set before him.
+Why, only the first day he was here he turned up his nose
+at the bread and soup we had for dinner."
+
+"Is this a specimen of the soup?" asked Dr. Townsend,
+taking from the table the bowl which had
+been proffered to Paul and declined by him.
+
+Without ceremony he raised to his lips a spoonful of
+the soup and tasted it with a wry face.
+
+"Do you often have this soup on the table?" he asked abruptly.
+
+"We always have it once a day, and sometimes twice,"
+returned Mrs. Mudge.
+
+"And you call the boy dainty because he don't relish
+such stuff as this?" said the doctor, with an
+indignation he did not attmpt to conceal.  "Why,
+I wouldn't be hired to take the contents of that
+bowl.  It is as bad as any of my own medicines,
+and that's saying a good deal.  How much nourishment
+do you suppose such a mixture would afford?  And yet
+with little else to sustain him you have worked this
+boy like a beast of burden,--worse even, for they at
+least have abundance of GOOD food."
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Mudge both winced under this plain
+speaking, but they did not dare to give expression
+to their anger, for they knew well that Dr. Townsend
+was an influential man in town, and, by representing
+the affair in the proper quarter, might render their
+hold upon their present post a very precarious one. 
+Mr. Mudge therefore contented himself with muttering
+that he guessed he worked as hard as anybody, and he
+didn't complain of his fare.
+
+"May I ask you, Mr. Mudge," said the doctor, fixing
+his penetrating eye full upon him,"whether you
+confine yourself to the food upon which you have
+kept this boy?"
+
+"Well," said Mr. Mudge, in some confusion, moving
+uneasily in his seat,"I can't say but now and then I
+eat something a little different."
+
+"Do you eat at the same table with the inmates of
+your house?"
+
+"Well, no," said the embarrassed Mr. Mudge.
+
+"Tell me plainly,--how often do you partake of this soup?"
+
+"I aint your patient," said the man, sullenly, "Why
+should you want to know what I eat?"
+
+"I have an object in view.  Are you afraid to answer?"
+
+"I don't know as there's anything to be afraid of. 
+The fact is, I aint partial to soup; it don't agree
+with me, and so I don't take it."
+
+"Did you ever consider that this might be the case
+with others as well as yourself?" inquired the
+doctor with a glance expressive of his contempt for
+Mr. Mudge's selfishness.  Without waiting for a
+reply, Dr. Townsend ordered Paul to be put to bed
+immediately, after which he would leave some
+medicine for him to take.
+
+Here was another embarassment for the worthy couple. 
+They hardly knew where to put our hero.  It would
+not do for them to carry him to his pallet in the
+attic,for they felt sure that this would lead
+to some more plain speaking on the part of Dr.
+Townsend.  He was accordingly, though with some
+reluctance, placed in a small bedroom upstairs,
+which, being more comfortable than those
+appropriated to the paupers, had been reserved for a
+son at work in a neighboring town, on his occasional
+visits home.
+
+"Is there no one in the house who can sit in the
+chamber and attend to his occasional wants?" asked
+Dr. Townsend.  "He will need to take his medicine at
+stated periods, and some one will be required
+to administer it."
+
+"There's Aunt Lucy Lee," said Mrs. Mudge, "she's
+taken a fancy to the boy, and I reckonshe'll do as
+well as anybody."
+
+"No one better," returned the doctor, who well knew
+Aunt Lucy's kindness of disposition, and was
+satisfied that she would take all possible care of
+his patient.
+
+So it was arranged that Aunt Lucy should take her
+place at Paul's bedside as his nurse.
+
+Paul was sick for many days,--not dangerously so,
+but hard work and scanty fare had weakened him to
+such a degree that exhausted nature required time to
+recruit its wasted forces.  But he was not unhappy
+or restless.  Hour after hour he would lie
+patiently, and listen to the clicking of her
+knitting needles.  Though not provided with
+luxurious food, Dr. Townsend had spoken with so much
+plainness that Mrs. Mudge felt compelled to modify
+her treatment, lest, through his influence, she with
+her husband, might lose their situation.  This
+forced forbearance, however, was far from warming
+her heart towards its object.  Mrs. Mudge was a
+hard, practical woman, and her heart was so
+encrusted with worldliness and self-interest that
+she might as well have been without one.
+
+One day, as Paul lay quietly gazing at Aunt Lucy's
+benevolent face, and mentally contrasting it with
+that of Mrs. Mudge, whose shrill voice could be
+heard form below, he was seized with a sudden desire
+to learn something of her past history.
+
+"How long have you been here, Aunt Lucy?" he inquired.
+
+She looked up from her knitting, and sighed as she
+answered, "A long and weary time to look back upon,
+Paul.  I have been here ten years."
+
+"Ten years," repeated Paul, thoughtfully, "and I am
+thirteen.  So you have been here nearly all my
+lifetime.  Has Mr. Mudge been here all that time?"
+
+"Only the last two years.  Before that we had Mrs.
+Perkins."
+
+"Did she treat you any better than Mrs. Mudge?"
+
+"Any better than Mrs. Mudge!" vociferated that lady,
+who had ascended the stairs without being heard by
+Aunt Lucy of Paul, and had thus caught the last
+sentence.  "Any better than Mrs. Mudge!" she
+repeated, thoroughly provoked.  "So you've been
+talking about me, you trollop, have you?  I'll come
+up with you, you may depend upon that.  That's to
+pay for my giving you tea Sunday night, is it? 
+Perhaps you'll get some more.  It's pretty well in
+paupers conspiring together because they aint
+treated like princes and princesses.  Perhaps you'd
+like to got boarded with Queen Victoria."
+
+The old lady sat very quiet during this tirade.  She
+had been the subject of similar invective before,
+and knew that it would do no good to oppose Mrs.
+Mudge in her present excited state.
+
+"I don't wonder you haven't anything to say," said
+the infuriated dame.  "I should think you'd want to
+hide your face in shame, you trollop."
+
+Paul was not quite so patient as his attendant.  Her
+kindness had produced such an impression on him,
+that Mrs. Mudge, by her taunts, stirred up his
+indignation.
+
+"She's no more of a trollop than you are," said he,
+with spirit.
+
+Mrs. Mudge whirled round at this unexpected attack,
+and shook her fist menacingly at Paul--
+
+"So, you've put in your oar, you little jackanapes,"
+said she, "If you're well enough to be impudent
+you're well enough to go to work.  You aint a goin'
+to lie here idle much longer, I can tell you.  If
+you deceive Dr. Townsend, and make him believe
+you're sick, you can't deceive me.  No doubt you
+feel mighty comfortable, lyin' here with nothing to
+do, while I'm a slavin' myself to death down stairs,
+waitin' upon you; (this was a slight exaggeration,
+as Aunt Lucy took the entire charge of Paul,
+including the preparation of his food;) but you'd
+better make the most of it, for you won't lie
+here much longer.  You'll miss not bein' able to
+talk about me, won't you?"
+
+Mrs. Mudge paused a moment as if expecting an answer
+to her highly sarcastic question, but Paul felt that
+no advantage would be gained by saying more.. He was
+not naturally a quick-tempered buy, and had only
+been led to this little ebullition by the wanton
+attack by Mrs. Mudge.
+
+This lady, after standing a moment as if defying the
+twain to a further contest, went out, slamming the
+door violently after her.
+
+"You did wrong to provoke her, Paul," said Aunt
+Lucy, gravely.
+
+"How could I help it?" asked Paul, earnestly.  "If
+she had only abused ME, I should not have cared so
+much, but when she spoke about you, who have been so
+kind to me, I could not be silent."
+
+"I thank you, Paul, for your kind feeling," said the
+old lady, gently, "but we must learn to bear and forbear.
+The best of us have our faults and failings." 
+
+"What are yours, Aunt Lucy?"
+
+"O, a great many."
+
+"Such as what?"
+
+"I am afraid I am sometimes discontented with the
+station which God has assigned me."
+
+"I don't think you can be very much to blame for
+that.  I should never learn to be contented here if
+I lived to the age of Methuselah."
+
+Paul lay quite still for an hour or more.  During
+that time he formed a determination which will be
+announced in the next chapter.
+
+
+
+VI.
+
+PAUL'S DETERMINATION
+
+At the close of the last chapter it was stated that
+Paul had come to a determination.
+
+This was,--TO RUN AWAY.
+
+That he had good reason for this we have already
+seen.
+
+He was now improving rapidly, and only waited till
+he was well enough to put his design into execution.
+
+"Aunt Lucy," said he one day, "I've got something
+to tell you."
+
+The old lady looked up inquiringly.
+
+"It's something I've been thinking of a long
+time,--at least most of the time since I've been
+sick.   It isn't pleasant for me to stay here, and
+I've pretty much made up my mind that I sha'n't."
+
+"Where will you go?" asked the old lady, dropping
+her work in surprise.
+
+"I don't know of any particular place, but I should
+be better off most anywhere than here."
+
+"But you are so young, Paul."
+
+"God will take care of me, Aunt Lucy,--mother used
+to tell me that.  Besides, here I have no hope of
+learning anything or improving my condition.  Then
+again, if I stay here, I can never do what father
+wished me to do."
+
+"What is that, Paul?"
+
+Paul told the story of his father's indebtedness to
+Squire Conant, and the cruel letter which the Squire
+had written.
+
+"I mean to pay that debt," he concluded firmly.  "I
+won't let anybody say that my father kept them out
+of their money.  There is no chance here; somewhere
+else I may find work and money."
+
+"It is a great undertaking for a boy like you,
+Paul," said Aunt Lucy, thoughtfully.  "To whom is
+the money due?"
+
+"Squire Conant of Cedarville."
+
+Aunt Lucy seemed surprised and agitated by the
+mention of this name.
+
+"Paul," said she, "Squire Conant is my brother."
+
+"Your brother!" repeated he in great surprise. 
+"Then why does he allow you to live here?  He is
+rich enough to take care of you."
+
+"It is a long story," said the old lady, sadly. 
+"All that you will be interested to know is that I
+married against the wishes of my family.  My husband
+died and I was left destitute.  My brother has
+never noticed me since."
+
+"It is a great shame," said Paul.
+
+"We won't judge him, Paul.  Have you fixed upon
+any time to go?"
+
+"I shall wait a few days till I get stronger.  Can
+you tell me how
+far it is to New York?"
+
+"O, a great distance; a hundred miles at least.  You
+can't think of going so far as that?"
+
+"I think it would be the best plan," said Paul. "In
+a great city like New York there must be a great
+many things to do which I can't do here.  I don't
+feel strong enough to work on a farm.  Besides,
+I don't like it.  O, it must be a fine thing to live
+in a great city.  Then too," pursued Paul, his face
+lighting up with the hopeful confidence of youth, "I
+may become rich.  If I do, Aunt Lucy, I will build a
+fine house, and you shall come and live with me."
+
+Aunt Lucy had seen more of life than Paul, and was
+less sanguine.  The thought came to her that her
+life was already declining while his was but just
+begun, and in the course of nature, even if his
+bright dreams should be realized, she could hardly
+hope to live long enough to see it.  But of this she
+said nothing.  She would not for the world have
+dimmed the brightness of his anticipations by the
+expression of a single doubt.
+
+"I wish you all success, Paul, and I thank you for
+wishing me to share in your good fortune.  God helps
+those who help themselves, and he will help you if
+you only deserve it.  I shall miss you very
+much when you are gone.  It will seem more lonely
+than ever."
+
+"If it were not for you, Aunt Lucy, I should not
+mind going at all, but I shall be sorry to leave you
+behind."
+
+"God will care for both of us, my dear boy.  I shall
+hope to hear from you now and then, and if I learn
+that you are prosperous and happy, I shall be better
+contented with my own lot.  But have you thought of
+all the labor and weariness that you will have to
+encounter?  It is best to consider well all this,
+before entering upon such an undertaking."
+
+"I have thought of all that, and if there were any
+prospect of my being happy here, I might stay for
+the present.  But you know how Mrs. Mudge has
+treated me, and how she feels towards me now."
+
+"I acknowledge, Paul, that it has proved a
+hard apprenticeship, and perhaps it might be
+made yet harder if you should stay longer. 
+You must let me know when you are going, I
+shall want to bid you good-by."
+
+"No fear that I shall forget that, Aunt Lucy.
+Next to my mother you have been most kind to me,
+and I love you for it."
+
+Lightly pressing her lips to Paul's forehead
+Aunt Lucy left the room to conceal the emotion
+called forth by his approaching departure.  Of
+all the inmates of the establishment she had
+felt most closely drawn to the orphan boy,
+whose loneliness and bereavement had appealed
+to her woman's heart.  This feeling had
+been strengthened by the care she had been
+called to bestow upon him in his illness, for it
+is natural to love those whom we have benefited. 
+But Aunt Lucy was the most unselfish
+of living creatures, and the idea of dissuading
+Paul from a course which he felt was right
+never occurred to her.  She determined that
+she would do what she could to further his
+plans, now that he had decided to go.  Accordingly
+she commenced knitting him a pair of
+stockings, knowing that this would prove a
+useful present.  This came near being the
+means of discovering Paul's plan to Mrs.
+Mudge The latter, who notwithstanding her
+numerous duties, managed to see everything
+that was going on, had her attention directed
+to Aunt Lucy's work.
+
+"Have you finished the stockings that I set
+you to knitting for Mr. Mudge?" she asked.
+
+"No," said Aunt Lucy, in some confusion.
+
+"Then whose are those, I should like to
+know?  Somebody of more importance than
+my husband, I suppose."
+
+"They are for Paul," returned the old lady,
+in some uneasiness.
+
+"Paul!" repeated Mrs. Mudge, in her haste
+putting a double quantity of salaeratus into the
+bread she was mixing; "Paul's are they?  And
+who asked you to knit him a pair, I should like
+to be informed?"
+
+"No one."
+
+"Then what are you doing it for?"
+
+"I thought he might want them."
+
+"Mighty considerate, I declare.  And I
+shouldn't be at all surprised if you were knitting
+them with the yarn I gave you for Mr.
+Mudge's stockings."
+
+"You are mistaken," said Aunt Lucy,
+shortly.
+
+"Oh, you're putting on your airs, are you? 
+I'll tell you what, Madam, you'd better put
+those stockings away in double-quick time, and
+finish my husband's, or I'll throw them into
+the fire, and Paul Prescott may wait till he
+goes barefoot before he gets them."
+
+There was no alternative.  Aunt Lucy was
+obliged to obey, at least while her persecutor
+was in the room.  When alone for any length
+of time she took out Paul's stockings from
+under her apron, and worked on them till the
+approaching steps of Mrs. Mudge warned her
+to desist.
+
+----
+
+
+Three days passed.  The shadows of twilight
+were already upon the earth.  The paupers
+were collected in the common room appropriated
+to their use.  Aunt Lucy had suspended
+her work in consequence of the darkness,
+for in this economical household a lamp
+was considered a useless piece of extravagance. 
+Paul crept quietly to her side, and whispered
+in tones audible to her alone, "I AM GOING TO-
+MORROW."
+
+"To-morrow! so soon?"
+
+"Yes," said Paul, "I am as ready now as
+I shall ever be.  I wanted to tell you, because
+I thought maybe you might like to know that
+this is the last evening we shall spend together
+at present."
+
+"Do you go in the morning?"
+
+"Yes, Aunt Lucy, early in the morning.  Mr.
+Mudge usually calls me at five; I must be gone
+an hour before that time.  I suppose I must
+bid you good-by to-night."
+
+"Not to-night, Paul; I shall be up in the
+morning to see you go."
+
+"But if Mrs. Mudge finds it out she will
+abuse you."
+
+"I am used to that, Paul," said Aunt Lucy,
+with a sorrowful smile.  "I have borne it
+many times, and I can again.  But I can't
+lie quiet and let you go without one word
+of parting.  You are quite determined to go?"
+
+"Quite, Aunt Lucy.  I never could stay
+here.  There is no pleasure in the present, and
+no hope for the future.  I want to see something
+of life," and Paul's boyish figure dilated
+with enthusiasm.
+
+"God grant that you do not see too much!"
+said Aunt Lucy, half to herself.
+
+"Is the world then, so very sad a place?"
+asked Paul.
+
+"Both joy and sorrow are mingled in the
+cup of human life," said Aunt Lucy, solemnly:
+
+"Which shall preponderate it is partly in our
+power to determine.  He who follows the path
+of duty steadfastly, cannot be wholly miserable,
+whatever misfortunes may come upon
+him.  He will be sustained by the conviction
+that his own errors have not brought them
+upon him."
+
+"I will try to do right," said Paul, placing
+his hand in that of his companion, "and if
+ever I am tempted to do wrong, I will think of
+you and of my mother, and that thought shall
+restrain me."
+
+"It's time to go bed, folks," proclaimed Mrs
+Mudge, appearing at the door.  "I can't have
+you sitting up all night, as I've no doubt you'd
+like to do."
+
+It was only eight o'clock, but no one thought
+of interposing an objection.  The word of
+Mrs. Mudge was law in her household, as
+even her husband was sometimes made aware.
+
+All quietly rose from their seats and repaired
+to bed.  It was an affecting sight to
+watch the tottering gait of those on whose
+heads the snows of many winters had drifted
+heavily, as they meekly obeyed the behest of
+one whose coarse nature forbade her sympathizing
+with them in their clouded age, and
+many infirmities.
+
+"Come," said she, impatient of their slow
+movements, "move a little quicker, if it's
+perfectly convenient.  Anybody'd think you'd
+been hard at work all day, as I have.  You're
+about the laziest set I ever had anything to do
+with.  I've got to be up early in the morning,
+and can't stay here dawdling."
+
+"She's got a sweet temper," said Paul, in a
+whisper, to Aunt Lucy.
+
+"Hush!" said the old lady.  "She may hear you."
+
+"What's that you're whispering about?"
+said Mrs. Mudge, suspiciously.  "Something
+you're ashamed to have heard, most likely.
+
+Paul thought it best to remain silent.
+
+"To-morrow morning at four!" he whispered
+to Aunt Lucy, as he pressed her hand in
+the darkness.
+
+
+
+VII.
+
+PAUL BEGINS HIS JOURNEY.
+
+
+Paul ascended the stairs to his hard pallet
+for the last time.  For the last time!  There is
+sadness in the thought, even when the future
+which lies before us glows with brighter colors
+than the past has ever worn.  But to Paul,
+whose future was veiled in uncertainty, and
+who was about to part with the only friend
+who felt an interest in his welfare, this
+thought brought increased sorrow.
+
+He stood before the dirt-begrimed window
+through which alone the struggling sunbeams
+found an inlet into the gloomy little attic, and
+looked wistfully out upon the barren fields
+that surrounded the poorhouse.  Where would
+he be on the morrow at that time?  He did not
+know.  He knew little or nothing of the great
+world without, yet his resolution did not for
+an instant falter.  If it had, the thought of
+Mrs. Mudge would have been enough to remove
+all his hesitation.
+
+He threw himself on his hard bed, and a few
+minutes brought him that dreamless sleep
+which comes so easily to the young.
+
+Meanwhile Aunt Lucy, whose thoughts were
+also occupied with Paul's approaching departure,
+had taken from the pocket of her OTHER
+dress--for she had but two--something
+wrapped in a piece of brown paper.  One by one
+she removed the many folds in which it was
+enveloped, and came at length to the contents.
+
+It was a coin.
+
+"Paul will need some money, poor boy,"
+said she, softly to herself, "I will give him
+this.  It will never do me any good, and it may
+be of some service to him."
+
+So saying she looked carefully at the coin in
+the moonlight.
+
+But what made her start, and utter a half
+exclamation?
+
+Instead of the gold eagle, the accumulation
+of many years, which she had been saving for
+some extraordinary occasion like the presents
+she held in her hand--a copper cent.
+
+"I have been robbed," she exclaimed
+indignantly in the suddenness of her surprise.
+
+"What's the matter now?" inquired Mrs
+Mudge, appearing at the door, "Why are you
+not in bed, Aunt Lucy Lee?  How dare you
+disobey my orders?"
+
+"I have been robbed," exclaimed the old
+lady in unwonted excitement.
+
+"Of what, pray?" asked Mrs. Mudge, with a sneer.
+
+"I had a gold eagle wrapped up in that paper,"
+returned Aunt Lucy, pointing to the fragments
+on the floor, "and now, to-night, when I come
+to open it, I find but this cent."
+
+"A likely story," retorted Mrs. Mudge, "very
+likely, indeed, that a common pauper should
+have a gold eagle.  If you found a cent in the
+paper, most likely that's what you put there. 
+You're growing old and forgetful, so don't get
+foolish and flighty.  You'd better go to bed."
+
+"But I did have the gold, and it's been stolen,"
+persisted Aunt Lucy, whose disappointment was
+the greater because she intended the money for Paul.
+
+"Again!" exclaimed Mrs. Mudge.  "Will you never
+have done with this folly?  Even if you did have
+the gold, which I don't for an instant believe,
+you couldn't keep it.  A pauper has no right
+to hold property."
+
+"Then why did the one who stole the little I had
+leave me this?" said the old lady, scornfully,
+holding up the cent which had been substituted
+for the gold.
+
+"How should I know?" exclaimed Mrs.
+Mudge, wrathfully.  "You talk as if you
+thought I had taken your trumpery money."
+
+"So you did!" chimed in an unexpected
+voice, which made Mrs. Mudge start nervously.
+
+It was the young woman already mentioned,
+who was bereft of reason, but who at times,
+as often happens in such cases, seemed gifted
+with preternatural acuteness.
+
+"So you did.  I saw you, I did; I saw you
+creep up when you thought nobody was looking,
+and search her pocket.  You opened that
+paper and took out the bright yellow piece, and
+put in another.  You didn't think I was looking
+at you, ha! ha!  How I laughed as I stood behind
+the door and saw you tremble for fear some one
+would catch you thieving.  You didn't think of me,
+dear, did you?"
+
+And the wild creature burst into an unmeaning laugh.
+
+Mrs. Mudge stood for a moment mute, overwhelmed
+by this sudden revelation.  But for the darkness,
+Aunt Lucy could have seen the sudden flush which
+overspread her face with the crimson hue of detected guilt.
+But this was only for a moment.  It was quickly succeeded
+by a feeling of intense anger towards the unhappy creature
+who had been the means of exposing her.
+
+"I'll teach you to slander your betters, you crazy fool,"
+she exclaimed, in a voice almost inarticulate with passion,
+as she seized her rudely by the arm, and dragged her violently
+from the room.
+
+She returned immediately.
+
+"I suppose," said she, abruptly, confronting Aunt Lucy,
+"that you are fool enough to believe her ravings?"
+
+"I bring no accusation," said the old lady, calmly,
+"If your conscience acquits you, it is not for me
+to accuse you."
+
+"But what do you think?" persisted Mrs. Mudge,
+whose consciousness of guilt did not leave her quite at ease.
+
+"I cannot read the heart," said Aunt Lucy,
+composedly.  "I can only say, that, pauper as
+I am, I would not exchange places with the one
+who has done this deed."
+
+"Do you mean me?" demanded Mrs. Mudge.
+
+"You can tell best."
+
+"I tell you what, Aunt Lucy Lee," said Mrs.
+Mudge, her eyes blazing with anger, "If you
+dare insinuate to any living soul that I stole
+your paltry money, which I don't believe you
+ever had, I will be bitterly revenged upon you."
+
+She flaunted out of the room, and Aunt Lucy,
+the first bitterness of her disappointment over,
+retired to bed, and slept more tranquilly
+than the unscrupulous woman who had robbed her.
+
+At a quarter before four Paul started from
+his humble couch, and hastily dressed himself,
+took up a little bundle containing all his
+scanty stock of clothing, and noiselessly descended
+the two flights of stairs which separated
+him from the lower story.  Here he paused
+a moment for Aunt Lucy to appear. 
+Her sharp ears had distinguished his stealthy
+steps as he passed her door, and she came
+down to bid him good-by.  She had in her
+hands a pair of stockings which she slipped
+into his bundle.
+
+"I wish I had something else to give you,
+Paul," she said, "but you know that I am not
+very rich."
+
+"Dear Aunt Lucy," said Paul, kissing her,
+"you are my only friend on earth.  You have
+been very kind to me, and I never will forget
+you, NEVER!  By-and-by, when I am rich, I will
+build a fine house, and you will come and live
+with me, won't you?"
+
+Paul's bright anticipations, improbable as
+they were, had the effect of turning his
+companion's thoughts into a more cheerful channel.
+
+She bent down and kissed him, whispering softly,
+"Yes, I will, Paul."
+
+"Then it's a bargain," said he, joyously,
+"Mind you don't forget it.  I shall come
+for you one of these days when you least
+expect it."
+
+"Have you any money?" inquired Aunt Lucy.
+
+Paul shook his head.
+
+"Then," said she, drawing from her finger a
+gold ring which had held its place for many
+long years, "here is something which will bring
+you a little money if you are ever in distress."
+
+Paul hung back.
+
+"I would rather not take it, indeed I would,"
+he said, earnestly, "I would rather go hungry 
+for two or three days than sell your ring.
+Besides, I shall not need it; God will
+provide for me."
+
+"But you need not sell it," urged Aunt Lucy,
+"unless it is absolutely necessary.  You can
+take it and keep it in remembrance of me. 
+Keep it till you see me again, Paul.  It will be
+a pledge to me that you will come back again some day."
+
+"On that condition I will take it," said Paul,
+"and some day I will bring it back."
+
+A slight noise above, as of some one stirring
+in sleep, excited the apprehensions of the two,
+and warned them that it was imprudent for
+them to remain longer in conversation.
+
+After a hurried good-by, Aunt Lucy quietly
+went upstairs again, and Paul, shouldering
+his bundle, walked rapidly away.
+
+The birds, awakening from their night's
+repose, were beginning to carol forth their rich
+songs of thanksgiving for the blessing of a new
+day.  From the flowers beneath his feet and the
+blossom-laden branches above his head, a delicious
+perfume floated out upon the morning air, and filled
+the heart of the young wanderer with a sense of the
+joyousness of existence, and inspired him with
+a hopeful confidence in the future.
+
+For the first time he felt that he belonged to
+himself.  At the age of thirteen he had taken
+his fortune in his own hand, and was about to
+mold it as best he might.
+
+There were care, and toil, and privations before
+him, no doubt, but in that bright morning
+hour he could harbor only cheerful and trusting
+thoughts.  Hopefully he looked forward
+to the time when he could fulfil his father's
+dying injunction, and lift from his name the
+burden of a debt unpaid.  Then his mind reverting
+to another thought, he could not help
+smiling at the surprise and anger of Mr.
+Mudge, when he should find that his assistant
+had taken French leave.  He thought he should
+like to be concealed somewhere where he could
+witness the commotion excited by his own
+departure.  But as he could not be in two places
+at the same time, he must lose that satisfaction. 
+He had cut loose from the Mudge household,
+as he trusted, forever.  He felt that a
+new and brighter life was opening before him.
+
+
+
+VIII.
+
+A FRIEND IN NEED.
+
+
+Our hero did not stop till he had put a good
+five miles between himself and the poorhouse. 
+He knew that it would not be long before Mr.
+Mudge would discover his absence, and the
+thought of being carried back was doubly
+distasteful to him now that he had, even for a
+short time, felt the joy of being his own master. 
+His hurried walk, taken in the fresh morning
+air, gave him quite a sharp appetite.  Luckily
+he had the means of gratifying it.  The night
+before he had secreted half his supper, knowing
+that he should need it more the next morning. 
+He thought he might now venture to sit
+down and eat it.
+
+At a little distance from the road was a
+spring, doubtless used for cattle, since it was
+situated at the lower end of a pasture.  Close
+beside and bending over it was a broad, branching
+oak, which promised a cool and comfortable shelter.
+
+"That's just the place for me," thought
+Paul, who felt thirsty as well as hungry, "I
+think I will take breakfast here and rest awhile
+before I go any farther."
+
+So saying he leaped lightly over the rail
+fence, and making his way to the place indicated,
+sat down in the shadow of the tree. 
+Scooping up some water in the hollow of his
+hand, he drank a deep and refreshing draught. 
+He next proceeded to pull out of his pocket a
+small package, which proved to contain two
+small pieces of bread.  His long morning walk
+had given him such an appetite that he was not
+long in despatching all he had.  It is said by
+some learned physicians, who no doubt understand
+the matter, that we should always rise
+from the table with an appetite.  Probably
+Paul had never heard of this rule.  Nevertheless,
+he seemed in a fair way of putting it into
+practice, for the best of reasons, because he
+could not help it.
+
+His breakfast, though not the most inviting,
+being simply unbuttered bread and rather dry
+at that, seemed more delicious than ever before,
+but unfortunately there was not enough
+of it.  However, as there seemed likely to be
+no more forthcoming, he concluded in default
+of breakfast to lie down under the tree for a
+few minutes before resuming his walk. 
+Though he could not help wondering vaguely
+where his dinner was to come from, as that
+time was several hours distant, he wisely
+decided not to anticipate trouble till it came.
+
+Lying down under the tree, Paul began to
+consider what Mr. Mudge would say when he
+discovered that he had run away.
+
+"He'll have to milk the cows himself,"
+thought Paul.  "He won't fancy that much. 
+Won't Mrs. Mudge scold, thought?  I'm glad
+I shan't be within hearing."
+
+"Holloa!"
+
+It was a boy's voice that Paul heard.
+
+Looking up he saw a sedate company of cows
+entering the pasture single file through an
+aperture made by letting down the bars.  Behind
+them walked a boy of about his own size,
+flourishing a stout hickory stick.  The cows
+went directly to the spring from which Paul
+had already drunk.  The young driver looked
+at our hero with some curiosity, wondering,
+doubtless, what brought him there so early in
+the morning.  After a little hesitation he said,
+remarking Paul's bundle, "Where are you
+traveling?"
+
+"I don't know exactly," said Paul, who was
+not quite sure whether it would be politic to
+avow his destination.
+
+"Don't know?" returned the other,
+evidently surprised.
+
+"Not exactly; I may go to New York."
+
+"New York! That's a great ways off.  Do
+you know the way there?"
+
+"No, but I can find it."
+
+"Are you going all alone?" asked his new
+acquaintance, who evidently thought Paul had
+undertaken a very formidable journey.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Are you going to walk all the way?"
+
+"Yes, unless somebody offers me a ride now and then."
+
+"But why don't you ride in the stage, or in the cars?
+You would get there a good deal quicker."
+
+"One reason," said Paul, hesitating a little,
+"is because I have no money to pay for riding."
+
+"Then how do you expect to live?  Have
+you had any breakfast, this morning?"
+
+"I brought some with me, and just got
+through eating it when you came along."
+
+"And where do you expect to get any dinner?"
+pursued his questioner, who was evidently
+not a little puzzled by the answers he received.
+
+"I don't know," returned Paul.
+
+His companion looked not a little confounded
+at this view of the matter, but presently
+a bright thought struck him.
+
+"I shouldn't wonder," he said, shrewdly,
+"if you were running away."
+
+Paul hesitated a moment.  He knew that his
+case must look a little suspicious, thus unexplained,
+and after a brief pause for reflection
+determined to take the questioner into his
+confidence.  He did this the more readily because
+his new acquaintance looked very pleasant.
+
+"You've guessed right," he said; "if you'll
+promise not to tell anybody, I'll tell you all
+about it."
+
+This was readily promised, and the boy who
+gave his name as John Burgess, sat down beside
+Paul, while he, with the frankness of boyhood,
+gave a circumstantial account of his
+father's death, and the ill-treatment he had
+met with subsequently.
+
+"Do you come from Wrenville?" asked
+John, interested.  "Why, I've got relations
+there.  Perhaps you know my cousin, Ben Newcome."
+
+"Is Ben Newcome your cousin?  O yes, I
+know him very well; he's a first-rate fellow."
+
+"He isn't much like his father."
+
+"Not at all.  If he was"--
+
+"You wouldn't like him so well.  Uncle
+talks a little too much out of the dictionary,
+and walks so straight that he bends backward. 
+But I say, Paul, old Mudge deserves to be
+choked, and Mrs. Mudge should be obliged to
+swallow a gallon of her own soup.  I don't
+know but that would be worse than choking. 
+I wouldn't have stayed so long if I had been in
+your place."
+
+"I shouldn't," said Paul, "if it hadn't been
+for Aunt Lucy."
+
+"Was she an aunt of yours?"
+
+"No, but we used to call her so, She's the
+best friend I've got, and I don't know but the
+only one," said Paul, a little sadly.
+
+"No, she isn't," said John, quickly; "I'll be
+your friend, Paul.  Sometime, perhaps, I shall
+go to New York, myself, and then I will come
+and see you.  Where do you expect to be?"
+
+"I don't know anything about the city," said
+Paul, "but if you come, I shall be sure to see
+you somewhere.  I wish you were going
+now."
+
+Neither Paul nor his companion had much
+idea of the extent of the great metropolis, or
+they would not have taken it so much as a matter
+of course that, being in the same place,
+they should meet each other.
+
+Their conversation was interrupted by the
+ringing of a bell from a farmhouse within sight.
+
+"That's our breakfast-bell," said John
+rising from the grass.  "It is meant for me.
+I suppose they wonder what keeps me so long. 
+Won't you come and take breakfast with me, Paul?"
+
+"I guess not," said Paul, who would have
+been glad to do so had he followed the promptings
+of his appetite.  "I'm afraid your folks
+would ask me questions, and then it would be
+found out that I am running away."
+
+"I didn't think of that," returned John,
+after a pause.  "You haven't got any dinner
+with you?" he said a moment after.
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, I'll tell you what I'll do.  Come with me
+as far as the fence, and lie down there till I've
+finished breakfast.  Then I'll bring something out for you,
+and maybe I'll walk along a little way with you."
+
+"You are very kind," said Paul, gratefully.
+
+"Oh, nonsense," said John, "that's nothing. 
+Besides, you know we are going to be friends."
+
+"John! breakfast's ready."
+
+"There's Nelson calling me," said John, hurriedly.
+"I must leave you; there's the fence; lie down there,
+and I'll be back in a jiffy."
+
+"John, I say, why don't you come?"
+
+"I'm coming.  You mustn't think everybody's
+got such a thundering great appetite as you, Nelson."
+
+"I guess you've got enough to keep you from
+pining away," said Nelson, good-naturedly,
+"you're twice as fat as I am."
+
+"That's because I work harder," said John,
+rather illogically.
+
+The brothers went in to breakfast.
+
+But a few minutes elapsed before John
+reappeared, bearing under his arm a parcel
+wrapped up in an old newspaper.  He came up
+panting with the haste he had made.
+
+"It didn't take you long to eat breakfast,"
+said Paul.
+
+"No, I hurried through it; I thought you
+would get tired of waiting.  And now I'll walk
+along with you a little ways.  But wait here's
+something for you."
+
+So saying he unrolled the newspaper and
+displayed a loaf of bread, fresh and warm, which
+looked particularly inviting to Paul, whose
+scanty breakfast had by no means satisfied his
+appetite.  Besides this, there was a loaf of
+molasses ginger-bread, with which all who
+were born in the country, or know anything of
+New England housekeeping, are familiar.
+
+"There," said John, "I guess that'll be
+enough for your dinner."
+
+"But how did you get it without having any
+questions asked?" inquired our hero.
+
+"Oh," said John, "I asked mother for them,
+and when she asked what I wanted of them, I
+told her that I'd answer that question to-morrow. 
+You see I wanted to give you a chance
+to get off out of the way, though mother
+wouldn't tell, even if she knew."
+
+"All right," said Paul, with satisfaction.
+
+He could not help looking wistfully at the
+bread, which looked very inviting to one
+accustomed to poorhouse fare.
+
+"If you wouldn't mind," he said hesitating,
+"I would like to eat a little of the bread now."
+
+"Mind, of course not," said John, breaking
+off a liberal slice.  "Why didn't I think of
+that before?  Walking must have given you a
+famous appetite."
+
+John looked on with evident approbation,
+while Paul ate with great apparent appetite.
+
+"There," said he with a sigh of gratification,
+as he swallowed the last morsel, "I haven't
+tasted anything so good for a long time."
+
+"Is it as good as Mrs. Mudge's soup?" asked
+John, mischievously.
+
+"Almost," returned Paul, smiling.
+
+We must now leave the boys to pursue their
+way, and return to the dwelling from which
+our hero had so unceremoniously taken his departure,
+and from which danger now threatened him.
+
+
+
+IX.
+
+A CLOUD IN THE MUDGE HORIZON.
+
+
+Mr. Mudge was accustomed to call Paul at
+five o'clock, to milk the cows and perform
+other chores.  He himself did not rise till an
+hour later.  During Paul's sickness, he was
+obliged to take his place,--a thing he did not
+relish overmuch.  Now that our hero had
+recovered, he gladly prepared to indulge himself
+in an extra nap.
+
+"Paul!" called Mr. Mudge from the bottom
+of the staircase leading up into the attic, "it's
+five o'clock; time you were downstairs."
+
+Mr. Mudge waited for an answer, but none came.
+
+"Paul!" repeated Mr. Mudge in a louder
+tone, "it's time to get up; tumble out there."
+
+Again there was no answer.
+
+At first, Mr. Mudge thought it might be in
+consequence of Paul's sleeping so soundly, but
+on listening attentively, he could not distinguish
+the deep and regular breathing which
+usually accompanies such slumber.
+
+"He must be sullen," he concluded, with a feeling
+of irritation.  "If he is, I'll teach him----"
+
+Without taking time to finish the sentence,
+he bounded up the rickety staircase, and
+turned towards the bed with the intention of
+giving our hero a smart shaking.
+
+He looked with astonishment at the empty
+bed.  "Is it possible," he thought, "that Paul
+has already got up?  He isn't apt to do so
+before he is called."
+
+At this juncture, Mrs. Mudge, surprised at
+her husband's prolonged absence, called from
+below, "Mr. Mudge!"
+
+"Well, wife?"
+
+"What in the name of wonder keeps you up
+there so long?"
+
+"Just come up and see."
+
+Mrs. Mudge did come up.  Her husband
+pointed to the empty bed.
+
+"What do you think of that?" he asked.
+
+"What about it?" she inquired, not quite
+comprehending.
+
+"About that boy, Paul.  When I called him
+I got no answer, so I came up, and behold he is
+among the missing."
+
+"You don't think he's run away, do you?"
+asked Mrs. Mudge startled.
+
+"That is more than I know."
+
+"I'll see if his clothes are here," said his
+wife, now fully aroused.
+
+Her search was unavailing.  Paul's clothes
+had disappeared as mysteriously as their owner.
+
+"It's a clear case," said Mr. Mudge, shaking
+his head; "he's gone.  I wouldn't have lost
+him for considerable.  He was only a boy, but
+I managed to get as much work out of him
+as a man.  The question is now, what shall we
+do about it?"
+
+"He must be pursued," said Mrs. Mudge,
+with vehemence, "I'll have him back if it costs
+me twenty dollars.  I'll tell you what, husband,"
+she exclaimed, with a sudden light
+breaking in upon her, "if there's anybody in
+this house knows where he's gone, it is Aunt
+Lucy Lee.  Only last week I caught her knitting
+him a pair of stockings.  I might have
+known what it meant if I hadn't been a
+fool."
+
+"Ha, ha!  So you might, if you hadn't been
+a fool!" echoed a mocking voice.
+
+Turning with sudden anger, Mrs. Mudge
+beheld the face of the crazy girl peering up at
+her from below.
+
+This turned her thoughts into a different channel.
+
+"I'll teach you what I am," she exclaimed,
+wrathfully descending the stairs more rapidly
+than she had mounted them, "and if you know
+anything about the little scamp, I'll have it
+out of you."
+
+The girl narrowly succeeded in eluding the
+grasp of her pursuer.  But, alas! for Mrs.
+Mudge.  In her impetuosity she lost her footing,
+and fell backward into a pail of water
+which had been brought up the night before
+and set in the entry for purposes of ablution. 
+More wrathful than ever, Mrs. Mudge bounced
+into her room and sat down in her dripping
+garments in a very uncomfortable frame of
+mind.  As for Paul, she felt a personal dislike
+for him, and was not sorry on some accounts
+to have him out of the house.  The knowledge,
+however, that he had in a manner defied her
+authority by running away, filled her with an
+earnest desire to get him back, if only to prove
+that it was not to be defied with impunity.
+
+Hoping to elicit some information from
+Aunt Lucy, who, she felt sure, was in Paul's
+confidence, she paid her a visit.
+
+"Well, here's a pretty goings on," she
+commenced, abruptly.  Finding that Aunt Lucy
+manifested no curiosity on the subject, she
+continued, in a significant tone, "Of course, YOU
+don't know anything about it."
+
+"I can tell better when I know what you
+refer to," said the old lady calmly.
+
+"Oh, you are very ignorant all at once.  I
+suppose you didn't know Paul Prescott had
+run away?"
+
+"I am not surprised," said the old lady, in
+the same quiet manner.
+
+Mrs. Mudge had expected a show of
+astonishment, and this calmness disconcerted her.
+
+"You are not surprised!" she retorted.  "I
+presume not, since you knew all about it
+beforehand.  That's why you were knitting him
+some stockings.  Deny it, if you dare."
+
+"I have no disposition to deny it."
+
+"You haven't!" exclaimed the questioner,
+almost struck dumb with this audacity.
+
+"No," said Aunt Lucy.  "Why should I? 
+There was no particular inducement for him
+to stay here.  Wherever he goes, I hope he will
+meet with good friends and good treatment."
+
+"As much as to say he didn't find them here. 
+Is that what you mean?"
+
+"I have no charges to bring."
+
+"But I have," said Mrs. Mudge, her eyes
+lighting with malicious satisfaction.  "Last
+night you missed a ten-dollar gold piece,
+which you saw was stolen from you.  This
+morning it appears that Paul Prescott has run
+away.  I charge him with the theft."
+
+"You do not, can not believe this," said the
+old lady, uneasily.
+
+"Of course I do," returned Mrs. Mudge,
+triumphantly, perceiving her advantage.  "I
+have no doubt of it, and when we get the boy
+back, he shall be made to confess it."
+
+Aunt Lucy looked troubled, much to the
+gratification of Mrs. Mudge.  It was but for a
+short time, however.  Rising from her seat,
+she stood confronting Mrs. Mudge, and said
+quietly, but firmly, "I have no doubt, Mrs.
+Mudge, you are capable of doing what you say. 
+I would advise you, however, to pause.  You
+know, as well as I do, that Paul is incapable
+of this theft.  Even if he were wicked enough
+to form the idea, he would have no need, since
+it was my intention to GIVE him this money. 
+Who did actually steal the gold, you PERHAPS
+know better than I.  Should it be necessary, I
+shall not hesitate to say so.  I advise you not
+to render it necessary."
+
+The threat which lay in these words was
+understood.  It came with the force of a
+sudden blow to Mrs. Mudge, who had supposed it
+would be no difficult task to frighten and
+silence Aunt Lucy.  The latter had always been
+so yielding in all matters relating to herself,
+that this intrepid championship of Paul's
+interests was unlooked for.  The tables were
+completely turned.  Pale with rage, and a
+mortified sense of having been foiled with her
+own weapons, Mrs. Mudge left the room.
+
+Meanwhile her husband milked the cows,
+and was now occupied in performing certain
+other duties that could not be postponed, being
+resolved, immediately after breakfast was
+over, to harness up and pursue the runaway.
+
+"Well, did you get anything out of the old
+lady?" he inquired, as he came from the barn
+with the full milk-pails.
+
+"She said she knew beforehand that he was going."
+
+"Eh!" said Mr. Mudge, pricking up his ears,
+"did she say where?"
+
+"No, and she won't.  She knit him a pair
+of stockings to help him off, and doesn't pretend
+to deny it.  She's taken a wonderful fancy
+to the young scamp, and has been as obstinate
+as could be ever since he has been here."
+
+"If I get him back," said Mr. Mudge, "he
+shall have a good flogging, if I am able to give
+him one, and she shall be present to see it."
+
+"That's right," said Mrs. Mudge, approvingly,
+"when are you going to set out after him?"
+
+"Right after breakfast.  So be spry, and get
+it ready as soon as you can."
+
+Under the stimulus of this inspiring motive,
+Mrs. Mudge bustled about with new energy,
+and before many minutes the meal was in
+readiness.  It did not take long to dispatch it. 
+Immediately afterwards, Mr. Mudge harnessed up,
+as he had determined, and started off in pursuit
+of our hero.
+
+
+In the meantime the two boys had walked
+leisurely along, conversing on various subjects.
+
+"When you get to the city, Paul," said John,
+"I shall want to hear from you.  Will you
+write to me?"
+
+Paul promised readily.
+
+"You can direct to John Burges, Burrville. 
+The postmaster knows me, and I shall be sure
+to get it."
+
+"I wish you were going with me," said Paul.
+
+"Sometimes when I think that I am all alone
+it discourages me.  It would be so much pleasanter
+to have some one with me."
+
+"I shall come sometime," said John, "when
+I am a little older.  I heard father say
+something the other day about my going into a
+store in the city.  So we may meet again."
+
+"I hope we shall."
+
+They were just turning a bend of the road,
+when Paul chanced to look backward.  About
+a quarter of a mile back he descried a horse
+and wagon wearing a familiar look.  Fixing
+his eyes anxiously upon them, he was soon
+made aware that his suspicions were only too
+well founded.  It was Mr. Mudge, doubtless in
+quest of him.
+
+"What shall I do?" he asked, hurriedly of
+his companion.
+
+"What's the matter?"
+
+This was quickly explained.
+
+John was quickwitted, and he instantly
+decided upon the course proper to be pursued. 
+On either side of the road was a growth of
+underbrush so thick as to be almost impenetrable.
+
+"Creep in behind there, and be quick about
+it," directed John, "there is no time to lose."
+
+"There," said he, after Paul had followed
+his advice, "if he can see you now he must
+have sharp eyes."
+
+"Won't you come in too?"
+
+"Not I," said John, "I am anxious to see
+this Mr. Mudge, since you have told me so
+much about him.  I hope he will ask me some
+questions."
+
+"What will you tell him?"
+
+"Trust me for that.  Don't say any more. 
+He's close by."
+
+
+
+X.
+
+MR. MUDGE MEETS HIS MATCH.
+
+
+John lounged along, appearing to be very
+busily engaged in making a whistle from a slip
+of willow which he had a short time before cut
+from the tree.  He purposely kept in the
+middle of the road, apparently quite unaware
+of the approach of the vehicle, until he was
+aroused by the sound of a voice behind him.
+
+"Be a little more careful, if you don't want
+to get run over."
+
+John assumed a look of surprise, and with
+comic terror ran to the side of the road.
+
+Mr. Mudge checked his horse, and came to a
+sudden halt.
+
+"I say, youngster, haven't you seen a boy of
+about your own size walking along, with a
+bundle in his hand?"
+
+"Tied up in a red cotton handkerchief?"
+inquired John.
+
+"Yes, I believe so," said Mr. Mudge, eagerly,
+"where did you----"
+
+"With a blue cloth cap?"
+
+"Yes, where----"
+
+"Gray jacket and pants?"
+
+"Yes, yes.  Where?"
+
+"With a patch on one knee?"
+
+"Yes, the very one.  When did you see
+him?" said Mr. Mudge, getting ready to
+start his horse.
+
+"Perhaps it isn't the one you mean,"
+continued John, who took a mischievous delight in
+playing with the evident impatience of Mr.
+Mudge; "the boy that I saw looked thin, as
+if he hadn't had enough to eat."
+
+Mr. Mudge winced slightly, and looked at
+John with some suspicion.  But John put on
+so innocent and artless a look that Mr. Mudge
+at once dismissed the idea that there was any
+covert meaning in what he said.  Meanwhile
+Paul, from his hiding-place in the bushes, had
+listened with anxiety to the foregoing colloquy. 
+When John described his appearance so minutely,
+he was seized with a sudden apprehension
+that the boy meant to betray him.  But
+he dismissed it instantly.  In his own singleness
+of heart he could not believe such duplicity
+possible.  Still, it was not without anxiety
+that he waited to hear what would be said next. 
+
+"Well," said Mr. Mudge, slowly, "I don't
+know but he is a little PEAKED.  He's been sick
+lately, and that's took off his flesh."
+
+"Was he your son?" asked John, in a
+sympathizing tone; "you must feel quite troubled
+about him."
+
+He looked askance at Mr. Mudge, enjoying
+that gentleman's growing irritation.
+
+"My son?  No.  Where----"
+
+"Nephews perhaps?" suggested the
+imperturbable John, leisurely continuing the
+manufacture of a whistle.
+
+"No, I tell you, nothing of the kind.  But
+I can't sit waiting here."
+
+"Oh, I hope you'll excuse me," said John,
+apologetically.  "I hope you won't stop on my
+account.  I didn't know you were in a hurry."
+
+"Well, you know it now," said Mr. Mudge,
+crossly.  "When and where did you see the
+boy you have described?  I am in pursuit of him."
+
+"Has he run away?" inquired John in
+assumed surprise.
+
+"Are you going to answer my question or
+not?" demanded Mr. Mudge, angrily.
+
+"Oh, I beg your pardon.  I shouldn't have
+asked so many questions, only I thought he
+was a nice-looking boy, and I felt interested
+in him."
+
+"He's a young scamp," said Mr. Mudge,
+impetuously, "and it's my belief that you're
+another.  Now answer my question.  When and
+where did you see this boy?"
+
+This time Mr. Mudge's menacing look
+warned John that he had gone far enough. 
+Accordingly he answered promptly, "He
+passed by our farm this morning."
+
+"How far back is that?"
+
+"About three miles."
+
+"Did he stop there?"
+
+"Yes, he stopped a while to rest."
+
+"Have you seen him since?"
+
+"Yes, I saw him about half a mile back."
+
+"On this road?"
+
+"Yes, but he turned up the road that
+branches off there."
+
+"Just what I wanted to find out," said Mr.
+Mudge, in a tone of satisfaction, "I'm sure to
+catch him."
+
+So saying, he turned about and put his horse
+to its utmost speed, determined to make up
+for lost time.  When he was fairly out of sight,
+Paul came forth from his hiding-place.
+
+"How could you do so!" he asked in a
+reproachful tone.
+
+"Could I do what?" asked John, turning a
+laughing face towards Paul.  "Didn't I tell
+old Mudge the exact truth?  You know you
+did turn up that road.  To be sure you didn't
+go two rods before turning back.  But he
+didn't stop to ask about that.  If he hadn't
+been in such a hurry, perhaps I should have
+told him.  Success to him!"
+
+"You can't think how I trembled when you
+described me so particularly."
+
+"You didn't think I would betray you?"
+said John, quickly.
+
+"No, but I was afraid you would venture
+too far, and get us both into trouble."
+
+"Trust me for that, Paul; I've got my eyes
+wide open, and ain't easily caught.  But
+wasn't it fun to see old Mudge fuming while I
+kept him waiting.  What would he have said
+if he had known the bird was so near at hand? 
+He looked foolish enough when I asked him if
+you were his son."
+
+John sat down and gave vent to his pent-up
+laughter which he had felt obliged to restrain
+in the presence of Mr. Mudge.  He laughed so
+heartily that Paul, notwithstanding his recent
+fright and anxiety, could not resist the infection. 
+Together they laughed, till the very air
+seemed vocal with merriment.
+
+John was the first to recover his gravity.
+
+"I am sorry, Paul," he said, "but I must
+bid you good-by.  They will miss me from the
+house.  I am glad I have got acquainted with
+you, and I hope I shall see you again some time
+before very long.  Good-by, Paul."
+
+"Good-by, John."
+
+The two boys shook hands and parted.  One
+went in one direction, the other in the opposite. 
+Each looked back repeatedly till the other was
+out of sight.  Then came over Paul once more
+a feeling of sadness and desolation, which the
+high spirits of his companion had for the time
+kept off.  Occasionally he cast a glance
+backwards, to make sure that Mr. Mudge was not
+following him.  But Paul had no cause to fear
+on that score.  The object of his dread was
+already some miles distant in a different
+direction.
+
+For an hour longer, Paul trudged on.  He
+met few persons, the road not being very much
+frequented.  He was now at least twelve miles
+from his starting-place, and began to feel very
+sensibly the effects of heat and fatigue
+combined.  He threw himself down upon the grass
+under the overhanging branches of an apple-
+tree to rest.  After his long walk repose
+seemed delicious, and with a feeling of
+exquisite enjoyment he stretched himself out at
+full length upon the soft turf, and closed his eyes.
+
+Insensibly he fell asleep.  How long he slept
+he could not tell.  He was finally roused from
+his slumber by something cold touching his
+cheek.  Starting up he rubbed his eyes in
+bewilderment, and gradually became aware that
+this something was the nose of a Newfoundland
+dog, whose keen scent had enabled him
+to discover the whereabouts of the small stock
+of provisions with which Paul had been
+supplied by his late companion.  Fortunately he
+awoke in time to save its becoming the prey of
+its canine visitor.
+
+"I reckon you came nigh losing your dinner,"
+fell upon his ears in a rough but hearty tone.
+
+At the same time he heard the noise of
+wheels, and looking up, beheld a specimen of
+a class well known throughout New England
+--a tin pedler.  He was seated on a cart liberally
+stocked with articles of tin ware.  From
+the rear depended two immense bags, one of
+which served as a receptacle for white rags, the
+other for bits of calico and whatever else may
+fall under the designation of "colored."  His
+shop, for such it was, was drawn at a brisk
+pace by a stout horse, who in this respect
+presented a contrast to his master, who was long
+and lank.  The pedler himself was a man of
+perhaps forty, with a face in which shrewdness
+and good humor seemed alike indicated.  Take
+him for all in all, you might travel some distance
+without falling in with a more complete
+specimen of the Yankee.
+
+"So you came nigh losing your dinner," he
+repeated, in a pleasant tone.
+
+"Yes," said Paul, "I got tired and fell
+asleep, and I don't know when I should have
+waked up but for your dog."
+
+"Yes, Boney's got a keen scent for
+provisions," laughed the pedler.  "He's a little
+graspin', like his namesake.  You see his real
+name is Bonaparte; we only call him Boney,
+for short."
+
+Meanwhile he had stopped his horse.  He
+was about to start afresh, when a thought
+struck him.
+
+"Maybe you're goin' my way," said he, turning
+to Paul; "if you are, you're welcome to a ride."
+
+Paul was very glad to accept the invitation. 
+He clambered into the cart, and took a seat
+behind the pedler, while Boney, who took his
+recent disappointment very good-naturedly,
+jogged on contentedly behind.
+
+"How far are you goin'?" asked Paul's
+new acquaintance, as he whipped up his horse.
+
+Paul felt a little embarrassed.  If he had
+been acquainted with the names of any of the
+villages on the route he might easily have answered.
+As it was, only one name occurred to him.
+
+"I think," said he, with some hesitation,
+"that I shall go to New York."
+
+"New York!" repeated the pedler, with a
+whistle expressive of his astonishment.
+
+"Well, you've a journey before you.
+Got any relations there?"
+
+"No."
+
+"No uncles, aunts, cousins, nor nothing?"
+
+Paul shook his head.
+
+"Then what makes you go?  Haven't run
+away from your father and mother, hey?"
+asked the pedler, with a knowing look.
+
+"I have no father nor mother," said Paul,
+sadly enough.
+
+"Well, you had somebody to take care of
+you, I calculate.  Where did you live?"
+
+"If I tell you, you won't carry me back?"
+said Paul, anxiously.
+
+"Not a bit of it.  I've got too much business
+on hand for that."
+
+Relieved by this assurance, Paul told his
+story, encouraged thereto by frequent questions
+from his companion, who seemed to take a lively
+interest in the adventures of his young companion.
+
+"That's a capital trick you played on old
+Mudge," he said with a hearty laugh which
+almost made the tins rattle.  "I don't blame
+you a bit for running away.  I've got a story to
+tell you about Mrs. Mudge.  She's a regular skinflint."
+
+
+
+XI.
+
+WAYSIDE GOSSIP.
+
+
+This was the pedler's promised story about
+Mrs. Mudge.
+
+"The last time I was round that way, I
+stopped, thinking maybe they might have some
+rags to dispose of for tin-ware.  The old lady
+seemed glad to see me, and pretty soon she
+brought down a lot of white rags.  I thought
+they seemed quite heavy for their bulk,--
+howsomever, I wasn't looking for any tricks, and
+I let it go.  By-and-by, when I happened to
+be ransacking one of the bags, I came across
+half a dozen pounds or more of old iron tied
+up in a white cloth.  That let the cat out of the
+bag.  I knew why they were so heavy, then, I
+reckon I shan't call on Mrs. Mudge next time
+I go by."
+
+"So you've run off," he continued, after a
+pause, "I like your spunk,--just what I should
+have done myself.  But tell me how you managed
+to get off without the old chap's finding
+it out."
+
+Paul related such of his adventures as he
+had not before told, his companion listening
+with marked approval.
+
+"I wish I'd been there," he said.  "I'd have
+given fifty cents, right out, to see how old
+Mudge looked, I calc'late he's pretty well tired
+with his wild-goose chase by this time."
+
+It was now twelve o'clock, and both the
+travelers began to feel the pangs of hunger.
+
+"It's about time to bait, I calc'late,"
+remarked the pedler.
+
+The unsophisticated reader is informed that
+the word "bait," in New England phraseology,
+is applied to taking lunch or dining.
+
+At this point a green lane opened out of the
+public road, skirted on either side by a row of
+trees.  Carpeted with green, it made a very
+pleasant dining-room.  A red-and-white heifer
+browsing at a little distance looked up from
+her meal and surveyed the intruders with mild
+attention, but apparently satisfied that they
+contemplated no invasion of her rights, resumed
+her agreeable employment.  Over an
+irregular stone wall our travelers looked into
+a thrifty apple-orchard laden with fruit.  They
+halted beneath a spreading chestnut-tree
+which towered above its neighbors, and offered
+them a grateful shelter from the noonday sun.
+
+From the box underneath the seat, the pedler
+took out a loaf of bread, a slice of butter,
+and a tin pail full of doughnuts.  Paul, on his
+side, brought out his bread and gingerbread.
+
+"I most generally carry round my own
+provisions," remarked the pedler, between two
+mouthfuls.  "It's a good deal cheaper and
+more convenient, too.  Help yourself to the
+doughnuts.  I always calc'late to have some
+with me.  I'd give more for 'em any day than
+for rich cake that ain't fit for anybody.  My
+mother used to beat everybody in the neighborhood
+on making doughnuts.  She made 'em so
+good that we never knew when to stop eating.
+You wouldn't hardly believe it, but, when I
+was a little shaver, I remember eating twenty-
+three doughnuts at one time.  Pretty nigh
+killed me."
+
+"I should think it might," said Paul, laughing.
+
+"Mother got so scared that she vowed she
+wouldn't fry another for three months, but I
+guess she kinder lost the run of the almanac,
+for in less than a week she turned out about a
+bushel more."
+
+All this time the pedler was engaged in
+practically refuting the saying, that a man
+cannot do two things at once.  With a little
+assistance from Paul, the stock of doughnuts
+on which he had been lavishing encomiums,
+diminished rapidly.  It was evident that his
+attachment to this homely article of diet was
+quite as strong as ever.
+
+"Don't be afraid of them," said he, seeing
+that Paul desisted from his efforts, "I've got
+plenty more in the box."
+
+Paul signified that his appetite was already appeased.
+
+"Then we might as well be jogging on.  Hey,
+Goliah," said he, addressing the horse, who
+with an air of great content, had been browsing
+while his master was engaged in a similar
+manner.  "Queer name for a horse, isn't it? 
+I wanted something out of the common way,
+so I asked mother for a name, and she gave me
+that.  She's great on scripture names, mother
+is.  She gave one to every one of her children. 
+It didn't make much difference to her what
+they were as long as they were in the Bible.  I
+believe she used to open the Bible at random,
+and take the first name she happened to come
+across.  There are eight of us, and nary a
+decent name in the lot.  My oldest brother's
+name is Abimelech.  Then there's Pharaoh,
+and Ishmael, and Jonadab, for the boys, and
+Leah and Naomi, for the girls; but my name
+beats all.  You couldn't guess it?"
+
+Paul shook his head.
+
+"I don't believe you could," said the pedler,
+shaking his head in comic indignation.  "It's
+Jehoshaphat.  Ain't that a respectable name
+for the son of Christian parents?"
+
+Paul laughed.
+
+"It wouldn't be so bad," continued the
+pedler, "if my other name was longer; but Jehoshaphat
+seems rather a long handle to put before
+Stubbs.  I can't say I feel particularly
+proud of the name, though for use it'll do as
+well as any other.  At any rate, it ain't quite
+so bad as the name mother pitched on for my
+youngest sister, who was lucky enough to die
+before she needed a name."
+
+"What was it?" inquired Paul, really
+curious to know what name could be considered
+less desirable than Jehoshaphat.
+
+"It was Jezebel," responded the pedler.
+
+"Everybody told mother 'twould never do;
+but she was kind of superstitious about it,
+because that was the first name she came to in
+the Bible, and so she thought it was the Lord's
+will that that name should be given to the child."
+
+As Mr. Stubbs finished his disquisition upon
+names, there came in sight a small house, dark
+and discolored with age and neglect.  He
+pointed this out to Paul with his whip-handle.
+
+"That," said he, "is where old Keziah
+Onthank lives.  Ever heard of him?"
+
+Paul had not.
+
+"He's the oldest man in these parts,"
+pursued his loquacious companion.  "There's
+some folks that seem a dyin' all the time, and
+for all that manage to outlive half the young
+folks in the neighborhood.  Old Keziah Onthank
+is a complete case in p'int.  As long ago
+as when I was cutting my teeth he was so old
+that nobody know'd how old he was.  He was
+so bowed over that he couldn't see himself in
+the looking-glass unless you put it on the floor,
+and I guess even then what he saw wouldn't
+pay him for his trouble.  He was always ailin'
+some way or other.  Now it was rheumatism,
+now the palsy, and then again the asthma.  He
+had THAT awful.
+
+"He lived in the same tumble-down old
+shanty we have just passed,--so poor that
+nobody'd take the gift of it.  People said that
+he'd orter go to the poorhouse, so that when he
+was sick--which was pretty much all the time
+--he'd have somebody to take care of him. 
+But he'd got kinder attached to the old place,
+seein' he was born there, and never lived anywhere
+else, and go he wouldn't.
+
+"Everybody expected he was near his end,
+and nobody'd have been surprised to hear of
+his death at any minute.  But it's strange how
+some folks are determined to live on, as I said
+before.  So Keziah, though he looked so old
+when I was a boy that it didn't seem as if he
+could look any older, kept on livin,' and livin',
+and arter I got married to Betsy Sprague, he
+was livin' still.
+
+"One day, I remember I was passin' by the
+old man's shanty, when I heard a dreadful
+groanin', and thinks I to myself, `I shouldn't
+wonder if the old man was on his last legs.'
+So in I bolted.  There he was, to be sure, a
+lyin', on the bed, all curled up into a heap,
+breathin' dreadful hard, and lookin' as white
+and pale as any ghost.  I didn't know exactly
+what to do, so I went and got some water, but
+he motioned it away, and wouldn't drink it,
+but kept on groanin'.
+
+"`He mustn't be left here to die without
+any assistance,' thinks I, so I ran off as fast I
+could to find the doctor.
+
+"I found him eatin' dinner----
+
+"Come quick," says I, "to old Keziah Onthank's.
+He's dyin', as sure as my name is Jehoshaphat."
+
+"Well," said the doctor, "die or no die, I
+can't come till I've eaten my dinner."
+
+"But he's dyin', doctor."
+
+"Oh, nonsense.  Talk of old Keziah Onthank's
+dyin'.  He'll live longer than I shall."
+
+"I recollect I thought the doctor very
+unfeelin' to talk so of a fellow creetur, just
+stepping into eternity, as a body may say.  However,
+it's no use drivin' a horse that's made up
+his mind he won't go, so although I did think
+the doctor dreadful deliberate about eatin' his
+dinner (he always would take half an hour for
+it), I didn't dare to say a word for fear he
+wouldn't come at all.  You see the doctor was
+dreadful independent, and was bent on havin'
+his own way, pretty much, though for that
+matter I think it's the case with most folks. 
+However, to come back to my story, I didn't
+feel particularly comfortable while I was
+waitin' his motions.
+
+"After a long while the doctor got ready.  I
+was in such a hurry that I actilly pulled him
+along, he walked so slow; but he only laughed,
+and I couldn't help thinkin' that doctorin' had
+a hardinin' effect on the heart.  I was determined
+if ever I fell sick I wouldn't send for him.
+
+"At last we got there.  I went in all of a
+tremble, and crept to the bed, thinkin' I
+should see his dead body.  But he wasn't there
+at all.  I felt a little bothered you'd better
+believe."
+
+"Well," said the doctor, turning to me with
+a smile, "what do you think now?"
+
+"I don't know what to think," said I.
+
+"Then I'll help you," said he.
+
+"So sayin', he took me to the winder, and
+what do you think I see?  As sure as I'm alive,
+there was the old man in the back yard, a
+squattin' down and pickin' up chips."
+
+"And is he still living?"
+
+"Yes, or he was when I come along last. 
+The doctor's been dead these ten years.  He
+told me old Keziah would outlive him, but I
+didn't believe him.  I shouldn't be surprised if
+he lived forever."
+
+Paul listened with amused interest to this
+and other stories with which his companion
+beguiled the way.  They served to divert his
+mind from the realities of his condition, and
+the uncertainty which hung over his worldly
+prospects.
+
+
+
+XII.
+
+ON THE BRINK OF DISCOVERY.
+
+
+"If you're in no great hurry to go to New
+York," said the pedler, "I should like to have
+you stay with me for a day or two.  I live
+about twenty-five miles from here, straight
+ahead, so it will be on your way.  I always
+manage to get home by Saturday night if it is
+any way possible.  It doesn't seem comfortable
+to be away Sunday.  As to-day is Friday,
+I shall get there to-morrow.  So you can lie
+over a day and rest yourself."
+
+Paul felt grateful for this unexpected
+invitation.  It lifted quite a load from his mind,
+since, as the day declined, certain anxious
+thoughts as to where he should find shelter,
+had obtruded themselves.  Even now, the
+same trouble would be experienced on Monday
+night, but it is the characteristic of youth to
+pay little regard to anticipated difficulties as
+long as the present is provided for.
+
+It must not be supposed that the pedler
+neglected his business on account of his companion. 
+On the road he had been traveling the
+houses were few and far between.  He had,
+therefore, but few calls to make.  Paul
+remarked, however, that when he did call he
+seldom failed to sell something.
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Stubbs, on being interrogated,
+"I make it a p'int to sell something, if
+it's no more than a tin dipper.  I find some
+hard cases sometimes, and sometimes I have
+to give it up altogether.  I can't quite come up
+to a friend of mine, Daniel Watson, who used
+to be in the same line of business.  I never
+knew him to stop at a place without selling
+something.  He had a good deal of judgment,
+Daniel had, and knew just when to use `soft
+sodder,' and when not to.  On the road that
+he traveled there lived a widow woman, who
+had the reputation of being as ugly, cross-
+grained a critter as ever lived.  People used to
+say that it was enough to turn milk sour for
+her even to look at it.  Well, it so happened
+that Daniel had never called there.  One night
+he was boasting that he never called at a
+house without driving a bargain, when one of
+the company asked him, with a laugh, if he
+had ever sold the widow anything.
+
+"Why, no," said Daniel, "I never called
+there; but I've no doubt I could."
+
+"What'll you bet of it?"
+
+"I'm not a betting man," said Daniel, "but
+I feel so sure of it that I don't mind risking
+five dollars."
+
+"Agreed."
+
+"The next morning Daniel drove leisurely
+up to the widow's door and knocked.  She had
+a great aversion to pedlers, and declared they
+were cheats, every one of them.  She was busy
+sweeping when Daniel knocked.  She came to
+the door in a dreadful hurry, hoping it might
+be an old widower in the neighborhood that
+she was trying to catch.  When she saw how
+much she was mistaken she looked as black as
+a thundercloud.
+
+"Want any tin ware to-day, ma'am?"
+inquired Daniel, noways discomposed.
+
+"No, sir," snapped she.
+
+"Got all kinds,--warranted the best in the
+market.  Couldn't I sell you something?"
+
+"Not a single thing," said she, preparing
+to shut the door; but Daniel, knowing all
+would then be lost, stepped in before she could
+shut it quite to, and began to name over some
+of the articles he had in his wagon.
+
+"You may talk till doomsday," said the
+widow, as mad as could be, "and it won't do
+a particle of good.  Now, you've got your
+answer, and you'd better leave the house before
+you are driven out."
+
+"Brooms, brushes, lamps----"
+
+"Here the widow, who had been trying to
+keep in her anger, couldn't hold out any
+longer.  She seized the broom she had been
+sweeping with, and brought it down with a
+tremendous whack upon Daniel's back.  You
+can imagine how hard it was, when I tell you
+that the force of the blow snapped the broom
+in the middle.  You might have thought
+Daniel would resent it, but he didn't appear to
+notice it, though it must have hurt him awful. 
+He picked up the pieces, and handing them,
+with a polite bow, to the widow, said, "Now,
+ma'am, I'm sure you need a new broom.  I've
+got some capital ones out in the cart."
+
+"The widow seemed kind of overpowered
+by his coolness.  She hardly knew what to say
+or what to think.  However, she had broken
+her old broom, that was certain, and must
+have a new one; so when Daniel ran out and
+brought in a bundle of them, she picked out
+one and paid for it without saying a word;
+only, when Daniel asked if he might have the
+pleasure of calling again, she looked a little
+queer, and told him that if he considered it a
+pleasure, she had no objection."
+
+"And did he call again?"
+
+"Yes, whenever he went that way.  The
+widow was always very polite to him after
+that, and, though she had a mortal dislike to
+pedlers in general, she was always ready to
+trade with him.  Daniel used to say that he
+gained his bet and the widow's custom at ONE BLOW."
+
+They were now descending a little hill at the
+foot of which stood a country tavern.  Here
+Mr. Stubbs declared his intention of spending
+the night.  He drove into the barn, the
+large door of which stood invitingly open, and
+unharnessed his horse, taking especial care to
+rub him down and set before him an ample
+supply of provender.
+
+"I always take care of Goliah myself," said
+he.  "He's a good friend to me, and it's no
+more than right that I should take good care
+of him.  Now, we'll go into the house, and see
+what we can get for supper."
+
+He was surprised to see that Paul hung
+back, and seemed disinclined to follow.
+
+"What's the matter?" asked Mr. Stubbs, in
+surprise.  "Why don't you come?"
+
+"Because," said Paul, looking embarrassed,
+"I've got no money."
+
+"Well, I have," said Mr. Stubbs, "and that
+will answer just as well, so come along, and
+don't be bashful.  I'm about as hungry as a
+bear, and I guess you are too."
+
+Before many minutes, Paul sat down to a
+more bountiful repast than he had partaken
+of for many a day.  There were warm biscuits
+and fresh butter, such as might please the palate
+of an epicure, while at the other end of the
+table was a plate of cake, flanked on one side
+by an apple-pie, on the other by one of pumpkin,
+with its rich golden hue, such as is to be
+found in its perfection, only in New England. 
+It will scarcely be doubted that our hungry travellers
+did full justice to the fare set before them.
+
+When they had finished, they went into the
+public room, where were engaged some of the
+village worthies, intent on discussing the news
+and the political questions of the day.  It was
+a time of considerable political excitement,
+and this naturally supplied the topic of
+conversation.  In this the pedler joined, for his
+frequent travel on this route had made him
+familiarly acquainted with many of those present.
+
+Paul sat in a corner, trying to feel
+interested in the conversation; but the day had
+been a long one, and he had undergone an unusual
+amount of fatigue.  Gradually, his
+drowsiness increased.  The many voices fell
+upon his ears like a lullaby, and in a few
+minutes he was fast asleep.
+
+Early next morning they were up and on
+their way.  It was the second morning since
+Paul's departure.  Already a sense of
+freedom gave his spirits unwonted elasticity, and
+encouraged him to hope for the best.  Had his
+knowledge of the future been greater, his
+confidence might have been less.  But would he
+have been any happier?
+
+So many miles separated him from his late
+home, that he supposed himself quite safe from
+detection.  A slight circumstance warned him
+that he must still be watchful and cautious.
+
+As they were jogging easily along, they
+heard the noise of wheels at a little distance. 
+Paul looked up.  To his great alarms he recognized
+in the driver of the approaching vehicle,
+one of the selectmen of Wrenville.
+
+"What's the matter?" asked his companion,
+noticing his sudden look of apprehension.
+
+Paul quickly communicated the ground of
+his alarm.
+
+"And you are afraid he will want to carry
+you back, are you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Not a bit of it.  We'll circumvent the old
+fellow, unless he's sharper than I think he is. 
+You've only got to do as I tell you."
+
+To this Paul quickly agreed.
+
+The selectman was already within a
+hundred rods.  He had not yet apparently noticed
+the pedler's cart, so that this was in our hero's
+favor.  Mr. Stubbs had already arranged his
+plan of operations.
+
+"This is what you are to do, Paul," said he,
+quickly.  "Cock your hat on the side of your
+head, considerably forward, so that he can't
+see much of your face.  Then here's a cigar to
+stick in your mouth.  You can make believe
+that you are smoking.  If you are the sort of
+boy I reckon you are, he'll never think it's you."
+
+Paul instantly adopted this suggestion.
+
+Slipping his hat to one side in the jaunty
+manner characteristic of young America, he
+began to puff very gravely at a cigar the
+pedler handed him, frequently taking it from his
+mouth, as he had seen older persons do, to
+knock away the ashes.  Nothwithstanding his
+alarm, his love of fun made him enjoy this
+little stratagem, in which he bore his part
+successfully.
+
+The selectman eyed him intently.  Paul
+began to tremble from fear of discovery, but his
+apprehensions were speedily dissipated by a
+remark of the new-comer, "My boy, you are
+forming a very bad habit."
+
+Paul did not dare to answer lest his voice should
+betray him.  To his relief, the pedler spoke----
+
+"Just what I tell him, sir, but I suppose he
+thinks he must do as his father does."
+
+By this time the vehicles had passed each
+other, and the immediate peril was over.
+
+"Now, Paul," said his companion, laughing,
+"I'll trouble you for that cigar, if you have
+done with it.  The old gentleman's advice was
+good.  If I'd never learned to smoke, I
+wouldn't begin now."
+
+Our hero was glad to take the cigar from
+his mouth.  The brief time he had held it was
+sufficient to make him slightly dizzy.
+
+
+
+XIII.
+
+PAUL REACHES THE CITY.
+
+
+Towards evening they drew up before a
+small house with a neat yard in front.
+
+"I guess we'll get out here," said Mr.
+Stubbs.  "There's a gentleman lives here that
+I feel pretty well acquainted with.  Shouldn't
+wonder if he'd let us stop over Sunday. 
+Whoa, Goliah, glad to get home, hey?" as the
+horse pricked up his ears and showed manifest
+signs of satisfaction.
+
+"Now, youngster, follow me, and I guess I
+can promise you some supper, if Mrs. Stubbs
+hasn't forgotten her old tricks."
+
+They passed through the entry into the
+kitchen, where Mrs. Stubbs was discovered
+before the fire toasting slices of bread.
+
+"Lor, Jehoshaphat," said she, "I didn't
+expect you so soon," and she looked inquiringly
+at his companion.
+
+"A young friend who is going to stay with
+us till Monday," explained the pedler.  "His
+name is Paul Prescott."
+
+"I'm glad to see you, Paul," said Mrs.
+Stubbs with a friendly smile.  "You must be
+tired if you've been traveling far.  Take a seat. 
+Here's a rocking-chair for you."
+
+This friendly greeting made Paul feel quite
+at home.  Having no children, the pedler and
+his wife exerted themselves to make the time
+pass pleasantly to their young acquaintance. 
+Paul could not help contrasting them with
+Mr. and Mrs. Mudge, not very much to the
+advantage of the latter.  On Sunday he went to
+church with them, and the peculiar circumstances
+in which he was placed, made him listen
+to the sermon with unusual attention.  It
+was an exposition of the text, "My help
+cometh from the Lord," and Paul could not
+help feeling that it was particularly applicable
+to his own case.  It encouraged him to
+hope, that, however uncertain his prospects
+appeared, God would help him if he put his
+trust in Him.
+
+On Monday morning Paul resumed his journey,
+with an ample stock of provisions supplied
+by Mrs. Stubbs, in the list of which
+doughnuts occupied a prominent place; this
+being at the particular suggestion of Mr. Stubbs.
+
+Forty or fifty miles remained to be
+traversed before his destination would be reached. 
+The road was not a difficult one to find, and
+he made it out without much questioning.
+The first night, he sought permission to sleep
+in a barn.
+
+He met with a decided refusal.
+
+He was about to turn away in disappointment,
+when he was called back.
+
+"You are a little too fast, youngster.  I said
+I wouldn't let you sleep in my barn, and I
+won't; but I've got a spare bed in the house,
+and if you choose you shall occupy it."
+
+Under the guise of roughness, this man had
+a kind heart.  He inquired into the particulars
+of Paul's story, and at the conclusion terrified
+him by saying that he had been very
+foolish and ought to be sent back.  Nevertheless,
+when Paul took leave of him the next
+morning, he did not go away empty-handed.
+
+"If you must be so foolish as to set up for
+yourself, take this," said the farmer, placing
+half a dollar in his hand.  "You may reach
+the city after the banks are closed for the day,
+you know," he added, jocularly.
+
+But it was in the morning that Paul came
+in sight of the city.  He climbed up into a high
+tree, which, having the benefit of an elevated
+situation, afforded him an extensive prospect. 
+Before him lay the great city of which
+he had so often heard, teeming with life and
+activity.
+
+Half in eager anticipation, half in awe and
+wonder at its vastness, our young pilgrim
+stood upon the threshold of this great Babel.
+
+Everything looked new and strange.  It had
+never entered Paul's mind, that there could
+be so many houses in the whole State as now
+rose up before him.  He got into Broadway,
+and walked on and on thinking that the street
+must end somewhere.  But the farther he
+walked the thicker the houses seemed crowded
+together.  Every few rods, too, he came to a
+cross street, which seemed quite as densely
+peopled as the one on which he was walking. 
+One part of the city was the same as another
+to Paul, since he was equally a stranger to all. 
+He wandered listlessly along, whither fancy
+led.  His mind was constantly excited by the
+new and strange objects which met him at
+every step.
+
+As he was looking in at a shop window, a
+boy of about his own age, stopped and inquired
+confidentially, "when did you come
+from the country?"
+
+"This morning," said Paul, wondering how a stranger
+should know that he was a country boy.
+
+"Could you tell me what is the price of
+potatoes up your way?" asked the other boy,
+with perfect gravity.
+
+"I don't know," said Paul, innocently.
+
+"I'm sorry for that," said the other, "as I
+have got to buy some for my wife and family."
+
+Paul stared in surprise for a moment, and
+then realizing that he was being made game
+of, began to grow angry.
+
+"You'd better go home to your wife and family,"
+he said with spirit, "or you may get hurt."
+
+"Bully for you, country!" answered the other
+with a laugh.  "You're not as green as you look."
+
+"Thank you," said Paul, "I wish I could
+say as much for you."
+
+Tired with walking, Paul at length sat
+down in a doorway, and watched with interest
+the hurrying crowds that passed before him. 
+Everybody seemed to be in a hurry, pressing
+forward as if life and death depended on his
+haste.  There were lawyers with their sharp,
+keen glances; merchants with calculating
+faces; speculators pondering on the chances
+of a rise or fall in stocks; errand boys with
+bundles under their arms; business men hurrying
+to the slip to take the boat for Brooklyn
+or Jersey City,--all seemed intent on business
+of some kind, even to the ragged newsboys
+who had just obtained their supply of evening
+papers, and were now crying them at the top
+of their voices,--and very discordant ones at
+that, so Paul thought.  Of the hundreds
+passing and repassing before him, every one had
+something to do.  Every one had a home to go
+to.  Perhaps it was not altogether strange that
+a feeling of desolation should come over Paul
+as he recollected that he stood alone, homeless,
+friendless, and, it might be, shelterless for the
+coming night.
+
+"Yet," thought he with something of
+hopefulness, "there must be something for me to
+do as well as the rest."
+
+Just then a boy some two years older than
+Paul paced slowly by, and in passing, chanced
+to fix his eyes upon our hero.  He probably
+saw something in Paul which attracted him,
+for he stepped up and extending his hand,
+said, "why, Tom, how came you here?"
+
+"My name isn't Tom," said Paul, feeling a
+little puzzled by this address.
+
+"Why, so it isn't.  But you look just like
+my friend, Tom Crocker."
+
+To this succeeded a few inquiries, which
+Paul unsuspiciously answered.
+
+"Do you like oysters?" inquired the new
+comer, after a while.
+
+"Very much."
+
+"Because I know of a tip top place to get
+some, just round the corner.  Wouldn't you
+like some?"
+
+Paul thanked his new acquaintance, and
+said he would.
+
+Without more ado, his companion ushered
+him into a basement room near by.  He led the
+way into a curtained recess, and both boys
+took seats one on each side of a small table.
+
+"Just pull the bell, will you, and tell the
+waiter we'll have two stews."
+
+Paul did so.
+
+"I suppose," continued the other, "the governor
+wouldn't like it much if he knew where I was."
+
+"The governor!" repeated Paul.  "Why, it
+isn't against the laws, is it?"
+
+"No," laughed the other.  "I mean my
+father.  How jolly queer you are!"  He
+meant to say green, but had a purpose in not
+offending Paul.
+
+"Are you the Governor's son?" asked Paul in amazement.
+
+"To be sure," carelessly replied the other.
+
+Paul's wonder had been excited many times
+in the course of the day, but this was more
+surprising than anything which had yet befallen
+him.  That he should have the luck to fall in
+with the son of the Governor, on his first
+arrival in the city, and that the latter should
+prove so affable and condescending, was indeed
+surprising.  Paul inwardly determined to
+mention it in his first letter to Aunt Lucy.  He
+could imagine her astonishment.
+
+While he was busy with these thoughts, his
+companion had finished his oysters.
+
+"Most through?" he inquired nonchalantly.
+
+"I've got to step out a minute; wait till I
+come back."
+
+Paul unsuspectingly assented.
+
+He heard his companion say a word to the
+barkeeper, and then go out.
+
+He waited patiently for fifteen minutes and
+he did not return; another quarter of an hour,
+and he was still absent.  Thinking he might
+have been unexpectedly detained, he rose to
+go, but was called back by the barkeeper.
+
+"Hallo, youngster! are you going off without paying?"
+
+"For what?" inquired Paul, in surprise.
+
+"For the oysters, of course.  You don't
+suppose I give 'em away, do you?"
+
+"I thought," hesitated Paul, "that the one
+who was with me paid,--the Governor's son,"
+he added, conscious of a certain pride in his
+intimacy with one so nearly related to the
+chief magistrate of the Commonwealth.
+
+"The Governor's son," laughed the barkeeper. 
+"Why the Governor lives a hundred
+miles off and more.  That wasn't the Governor's
+son any more than I am."
+
+"He called his father governor," said Paul,
+beginning to be afraid that he had made some
+ridiculous blunder.
+
+"Well, I wouldn't advise you to trust him
+again, even if he's the President's son.  He
+only got you in here to pay for his oysters. 
+He told me when he went out that you would
+pay for them."
+
+"And didn't he say he was coming back?"
+asked Paul, quite dumbfounded.
+
+"He said you hadn't quite finished,
+but would pay for both when you came out.
+It's two shillings.
+
+Paul rather ruefully took out the half dollar
+which constituted his entire stock of money,
+and tendered it to the barkeeper who returned
+him the change.
+
+So Paul went out into the streets, with his
+confidence in human nature somewhat lessened.
+
+Here, then, is our hero with twenty-five
+cents in his pocket, and his fortune to make.
+
+
+XIV.
+
+A STRANGE BED-CHAMBER.
+
+
+Although Paul could not help being vexed
+at having been so cleverly taken in by his late
+companion, he felt the better for having eaten
+the oysters.  Carefully depositing his only
+remaining coin in his pocket, he resumed his
+wanderings.  It is said that a hearty meal is a
+good promoter of cheerfulness.  It was so in
+Paul's case, and although he had as yet had no
+idea where he should find shelter for the night
+he did not allow that consideration to trouble him.
+
+So the day passed, and the evening came on. 
+Paul's appetite returned to him once more. 
+He invested one-half of his money at an old
+woman's stall for cakes and apples, and then
+he ate leisurely while leaning against the iron
+railing which encircles the park.
+
+He began to watch with interest the movements
+of those about him.  Already the lamplighter
+had started on his accustomed round,
+and with ladder in hand was making his way
+from one lamp-post to another.  Paul quite
+marvelled at the celerity with which the lamps
+were lighted, never before having witnessed
+the use of gas.  He was so much interested in
+the process that he sauntered along behind the
+lamplighter for some time.  At length his eye
+fell upon a group common enough in our cities,
+but new to him.
+
+An Italian, short and dark-featured, with
+a velvet cap, was grinding out music from a
+hand-organ, while a woman with a complexion
+equally dark, and black sorrowful-looking
+eyes, accompanied her husband on the tambourine. 
+They were playing a lively tune as
+Paul came up, but quickly glided into "Home,
+Sweet Home."
+
+Paul listened with pleased, yet sad interest,
+for him "home" was only a sad remembrance.
+
+He wandered on, pausing now and then to
+look into one of the brilliantly illuminated
+shop windows, or catching a glimpse through
+the open doors of the gay scene within, and
+as one after another of these lively scenes
+passed before him, he began to think that all
+the strange and wonderful things in the world
+must be collected in these rich stores.
+
+Next, he came to a place of public amusement. 
+Crowds were entering constantly, and
+Paul, from curiosity, entered too.  He passed
+on to a little wicket, when a man stopped him.
+
+"Where's your ticket?" he asked.
+
+"I haven't got any," said Paul.
+
+"Then what business have you here?" said
+the man, roughly.
+
+"Isn't this a meeting-house?" asked Paul.
+
+This remark seemed to amuse two boys who
+were standing by.  Looking up with some
+indignation, Paul recognized in one of them the
+boy who had cheated him out of the oysters.
+
+`Look here," said Paul, "what made you go off
+and leave me to pay for the oysters this morning?"
+
+"Which of us do you mean?" inquired the
+"governor's son," carelessly.
+
+"I mean you."
+
+"Really, I don't understand your meaning. 
+Perhaps you mistake me for somebody else."
+
+"What?" said Paul, in great astonishment. 
+"Don't you remember me, and how you told
+me you were the Governor's son?"
+
+Both boys laughed.
+
+"You must be mistaken.  I haven't the
+honor of being related to the distinguished
+gentleman you name."
+
+The speaker made a mocking bow to Paul.
+
+"I know that," said Paul, with spirit, "but
+you said you were, for all that."
+
+"It must have been some other good-looking
+boy, that you are mistaking me for.  What are
+you going to do about it?  I hope, by the way,
+that the oysters agreed with you."
+
+"Yes, they did," said Paul, "for I came
+honestly by them."
+
+"He's got you there, Gerald," said the other boy.
+
+Paul made his way out of the theater.  As
+his funds were reduced to twelve cents, he
+could not have purchased a ticket if he had
+desired it.
+
+Still he moved on.
+
+Soon he came to another building, which
+was in like manner lighted up, but not so
+brilliantly as the theater.  This time, from the
+appearance of the building, and from the tall
+steeple,--so tall that his eye could scarcely
+reach the tapering spire,--he knew that it
+must be a church.  There was not such a
+crowd gathered about the door as at the place
+he had just left, but he saw a few persons
+entering, and he joined them.  The interior of
+the church was far more gorgeous than the
+plain village meeting-house which he had been
+accustomed to attend with his mother.  He
+gazed about him with a feeling of awe, and
+sank quietly into a back pew.  As it was a
+week-day evening, and nothing of unusual
+interest was anticipated, there were but few
+present, here and there one, scattered through
+the capacious edifice.
+
+By-and-by the organist commenced playing,
+and a flood of music, grander and more solemn
+than he had ever heard, filled the whole edifice. 
+He listened with rapt attention and suspended
+breath till the last note died away, and then
+sank back upon the richly cushioned seat with
+a feeling of enjoyment.
+
+In the services which followed he was not so
+much interested.  The officiating clergyman
+delivered a long homily in a dull unimpassioned
+manner, which failed to awaken his interest. 
+Already disposed to be drowsy, it
+acted upon him like a gentle soporific.  He
+tried to pay attention as he had always been
+used to do, but owing to his occupying a back
+seat, and the low voice of the preacher, but
+few words reached him, and those for the most
+part were above his comprehension.
+
+Gradually the feeling of fatigue--for he had
+been walking the streets all day--became so
+powerful that his struggles to keep awake became
+harder and harder.  In vain he sat erect,
+resolved not to yield.  The moment afterwards
+his head inclined to one side; the lights began
+to swim before his eyes; the voice of the
+preacher subsided into a low and undistinguishable
+hum.  Paul's head sank upon the
+cushion, his bundle, which had been his constant
+companion during the day, fell softly to
+the floor, and he fell into a deep sleep.
+
+Meanwhile the sermon came to a close, and
+another hymn was sung, but even the music
+was insufficient to wake our hero now.  So the
+benediction was pronounced, and the people
+opened the doors of their pews and left the church.
+
+Last of all the sexton walked up and down
+the aisles, closing such of the pew doors as
+were open.  Then he shut off the gas, and after
+looking around to see that nothing was
+forgotten, went out, apparently satisfied, and
+locked the outer door behind him.
+
+Paul, meanwhile, wholly unconscious of his
+situation, slept on as tranquilly as if there
+were nothing unusual in the circumstances in
+which he was placed.  Through the stained
+windows the softened light fell upon his tranquil
+countenance, on which a smile played, as
+if his dreams were pleasant.  What would
+Aunt Lucy have thought if she could have seen
+her young friend at this moment?
+
+
+
+XV.
+
+A TURN OF FORTUNE.
+
+Notwithstanding his singular bedchamber,
+Paul had a refreshing night's sleep from which
+he did not awake till the sun had fairly risen,
+and its rays colored by the medium through
+which they were reflected, streamed in at the
+windows and rested in many fantastic lines on
+the richly carved pulpit and luxurious pews.
+
+Paul sprang to his feet and looked around
+him in bewilderment.
+
+"Where am I?" he exclaimed in astonishment.
+
+In the momentary confusion of ideas which
+is apt to follow a sudden awakening, he could
+not remember where he was, or how he chanced
+to be there.  But in a moment memory came to
+his aid, and he recalled the events of the
+preceding day, and saw that he must have been
+locked up in the church.
+
+"How am I going to get out?" Paul asked
+himself in dismay.
+
+This was the important question just now. 
+He remembered that the village meeting-house
+which he had been accustomed to attend was
+rarely opened except on Sundays.  What if
+this should be the case here?  It was Thursday
+morning, and three days must elapse before
+his release.  This would never do.  He must
+seek some earlier mode of deliverance.
+
+He went first to the windows, but found
+them so secured that it was impossible for him
+to get them open.  He tried the doors, but
+found, as he had anticipated, that they were
+fast.  His last resource failing, he was at
+liberty to follow the dictates of his curiosity.
+
+Finding a small door partly open, he peeped
+within, and found a flight of steep stairs rising
+before him.  They wound round and round,
+and seemed almost interminable.  At length,
+after he had become almost weary of ascending,
+he came to a small window, out of which
+he looked.  At his feet lay the numberless roofs
+of the city, while not far away his eye rested
+on thousands of masts.  The river sparkled in
+the sun, and Paul, in spite of his concern,
+could not help enjoying the scene.  The sound
+of horses and carriages moving along the
+great thoroughfare below came confusedly to
+his ears.  He leaned forward to look down, but
+the distance was so much greater than he had
+thought, that he drew back in alarm.
+
+"What shall I do?" Paul asked himself,
+rather frightened.  "I wonder if I can stand
+going without food for three days?  I suppose
+nobody would hear me if I should scream as
+loud as I could."
+
+Paul shouted, but there was so much noise
+in the streets that nobody probably heard him.
+
+He descended the staircase, and once more
+found himself in the body of the church.  He
+went up into the pulpit, but there seemed no
+hope of escape in that direction.  There was
+a door leading out on one side, but this only
+led to a little room into which the minister
+retired before service.
+
+It semmed rather odd to Paul to find himself
+the sole occupant of so large a building.  He
+began to wonder whether it would not have
+been better for him to stay in the poorhouse,
+than come to New York to die of starvation.
+
+Just at this moment Paul heard a key rattle
+in the outer door.  Filled with new hope, he
+ran down the pulpit stairs and out into the porch,
+just in time to see the entrance of the sexton.
+
+The sexton started in surprise as his eye
+fell upon Paul standing before him, with his
+bundle under his arm.
+
+"Where did you come from, and how came
+you here?" he asked with some suspicion.
+
+"I came in last night, and fell asleep."
+
+"So you passed the night here?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"What made you come in at all?" inquired
+the sexton, who knew enough of boys to be
+curious upon this point.
+
+"I didn't know where else to go," said Paul.
+
+"Where do you live?"
+
+Paul answered with perfect truth, "I don't
+live anywhere."
+
+"What!  Have you no home?" asked the
+sexton in surprise.
+
+Paul shook his head.
+
+"Where should you have slept if you hadn't
+come in here?"
+
+"I don't know, I'm sure."
+
+"And I suppose you don't know where you
+shall sleep to-night?"
+
+Paul signified that he did not.
+
+"I knew there were plenty of such cases,"
+said the sexton, meditatively; "but I never
+seemed to realize it before."
+
+"How long have you been in New York?"
+was his next inquiry.
+
+"Not very long," said Paul.  "I only got
+here yesterday."
+
+"Then you don't know anybody in the city?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Why did you come here, then?"
+
+"Because I wanted to go somewhere where
+I could earn a living, and I thought I might
+find something to do here."
+
+"But suppose you shouldn't find anything to do?"
+
+"I don't know," said Paul, slowly.  "I
+haven't thought much about that."
+
+"Well, my lad," said the sexton, not
+unkindly, "I can't say your prospects look very
+bright.  You should have good reasons for
+entering on such an undertaking.  I--I don't
+think you are a bad boy.  You don't look like
+a bad one," he added, half to himself.
+
+"I hope not, sir," said Paul.
+
+"I hope not, too.  I was going to say that
+I wish I could help you to some kind of work. 
+If you will come home with me, you shall be
+welcome to a dinner, and perhaps I may be
+able to think of something for you."
+
+Paul gladly prepared to follow his new acquaintance.
+
+"What is your name?" inquired the sexton.
+
+"Paul Prescott."
+
+"That sounds like a good name.  I suppose
+you haven't got much money?"
+
+"Only twelve cents."
+
+"Bless me! only twelve cents.  Poor boy!
+you are indeed poor."
+
+"But I can work," said Paul, spiritedly.  "I
+ought to be able to earn my living."
+
+"Yes, yes, that's the way to feel.  Heaven
+helps those who help themselves."
+
+When they were fairly out of the church,
+Paul had an opportunity of observing his companion's
+external appearance.  He was an elderly
+man, with harsh features, which would
+have been forbidding, but for a certain air of
+benevolence which softened their expression.
+
+As Paul walked along, he related, with less
+of detail, the story which is already known to
+the reader.  The sexton said little except in
+the way of questions designed to elicit further
+particulars, till, at the conclusion he said,
+"Must tell Hester."
+
+At length they came to a small house, in a
+respectable but not fashionable quarter of the
+city.  One-half of this was occupied by the
+sexton.  He opened the door and led the way into
+the sitting-room.  It was plainly but neatly
+furnished, the only ornament being one or two
+engravings cheaply framed and hung over the
+mantel-piece.  They were by no means gems of
+art, but then, the sexton did not claim to be a
+connoisseur, and would probably not have
+understood the meaning of the word.
+
+"Sit here a moment," said the sexton,
+pointing to a chair, "I'll go and speak to Hester."
+
+Paul whiled away the time in looking at the
+pictures in a copy of "The Pilgrim's Progress,"
+which lay on the table.
+
+In the next room sat a woman of perhaps
+fifty engaged in knitting.  It was very easy to
+see that she could never have possessed the
+perishable gift of beauty.  Hers was one of the
+faces on which nature has written PLAIN, in
+unmistakable characters.  Yet if the outward
+features had been a reflex of the soul within,
+few faces would have been more attractive
+than that of Hester Cameron.  At the feet of
+the sexton's wife, for such she was, reposed a
+maltese cat, purring softly by way of showing
+her contentment.  Indeed, she had good reason
+to be satisfied.  In default of children, puss
+had become a privileged pet, being well fed
+and carefully shielded from all the perils that
+beset cat-hood.
+
+"Home so soon?" said Hester inquiringly,
+as her husband opened the door.
+
+"Yes, Hester, and I have brought company
+with me," said the sexton.
+
+"Company!" repeated his wife.  "Who is it?"
+
+"It is a poor boy, who was accidentally
+locked up in the church last night."
+
+"And he had to stay there all night?"
+
+"Yes; but perhaps it was lucky for him, for
+he had no other place to sleep, and not money
+enough to pay for one."
+
+"Poor child!" said Hester, compassionately. 
+"Is it not terrible to think that any
+human creature should be without the comforts
+of a home which even our tabby possesses. 
+It ought to make you thankful that you are
+so well cared for, Tab."
+
+The cat opened her eyes and winked
+drowsily at her mistress.
+
+"So you brought the poor boy home, Hugh?"
+
+"Yes, Hester,--I thought we ought not to
+begrudge a meal to one less favored by fortune
+than ourselves.  You know we should consider
+ourselves the almoners of God's bounties."
+
+"Surely, Hugh."
+
+"I knew you would feel so, Hester.  And
+suppose we have the chicken for dinner that I
+sent in the morning.  I begin to have a famous
+appetite.  I think I should enjoy it."
+
+Hester knew perfectly well that it was for
+Paul's sake, and not for his own, that her
+husband spoke.  But she so far entered into
+his feelings, that she determined to expend her
+utmost skill as cook upon the dinner, that Paul
+might have at least one good meal.
+
+"Now I will bring the boy in," said he.  "I
+am obliged to go to work, but you will find
+some way to entertain him, I dare say."
+
+"If you will come out (this he said to
+Paul), I will introduce you to a new friend."
+
+Paul was kindly welcomed by the sexton's
+wife, who questioned him in a sympathizing
+tone about his enforced stay in the church.  To
+all her questions Paul answered in a modest
+yet manly fashion, so as to produce a decidedly
+favorable impression upon his entertainer.
+
+Our hero was a handsome boy.  Just at
+present he was somewhat thin, not having
+entirely recovered from the effects of his sickness
+and poor fare while a member of Mr. Mudge's
+family; but he was well made, and bade fair
+to become a stout boy.  His manner was free
+and unembarrassed, and he carried a letter of
+recommendation in his face.  It must be admitted,
+however that there were two points in
+which his appearance might have been improved. 
+Both his hands and face had suffered
+from the dust of travel.  His clothes, too, were
+full of dust.
+
+A single glance told Hester all this, and she
+resolved to remedy it.
+
+She quietly got some water and a towel, and
+requested Paul to pull off his jacket, which
+she dusted while he was performing his
+ablutions.  Then, with the help of a comb to
+arrange his disordered hair, he seemed quite like
+a new boy, and felt quite refreshed by the operation.
+
+"Really, it improves him very much," said
+Hester to herself.
+
+She couldn't help recalling a boy of her own,
+--the only child she ever had,--who had been
+accidentally drowned when about the age of
+Paul.
+
+"If he had only lived," she thought, "how
+different might have been our lives."
+
+A thought came into her mind, and she
+looked earnestly at Paul.
+
+"I--yes I will speak to Hugh about it," she
+said, speaking aloud, unconsciously.
+
+"Did you speak to me?" asked Paul.
+
+"No,--I was thinking of something."
+
+She observed that Paul was looking rather
+wistfully at a loaf of bread on the table.
+
+"Don't you feel hungry?" she asked, kindly.
+
+"I dare say you have had no breakfast."
+
+"I have eaten nothing since yesterday afternoon."
+
+"Bless my soul!  How hungry you must
+be!" said the good woman, as she bustled about
+to get a plate of butter and a knife.
+
+She must have been convinced of it by the
+rapid manner in which the slices of bread and
+butter disappeared.
+
+At one o'clock the sexton came home. 
+Dinner was laid, and Paul partook of it with an
+appetite little affected by his lunch of the
+morning.  As he rose from the table, he took
+his cap, and saying, "Good-by, I thank you
+very much for your kindness!" he was about to
+depart.
+
+"Where are you going?" asked the sexton,
+in surprise.
+
+"I don't know," answered Paul.
+
+"Stop a minute.  Hester, I want to speak to you."
+
+They went into the sitting-room together.
+
+"This boy, Hester," he commenced with
+hesitation.
+
+"Well, Hugh?"
+
+"He has no home."
+
+"It is a hard lot."
+
+"Do you think we should be the worse off
+if we offered to share our home with him?"
+
+"It is like your kind heart, Hugh.  Let us
+go and tell him."
+
+"We have been talking of you, Paul," said
+the sexton.  "We have thought, Hester and
+myself, that as you had no home and we no
+child, we should all be the gainers by your
+staying with us.  Do you consent?"
+
+"Consent!" echoed Paul in joyful surprise.
+"How can I ever repay your kindness?"
+
+"If you are the boy we take you for, we
+shall feel abundantly repaid.  Hester, we can
+give Paul the little bedroom where--where
+John used to sleep."
+
+His voice faltered a little, for John was the
+name of his boy, who had been drowned.
+
+
+
+XVI.
+
+YOUNG STUPID.
+
+
+Paul found the sexton's dwelling very
+different from his last home, if the Poorhouse
+under the charge of Mr. and Mrs. Mudge deserved
+such a name.  His present home was an
+humble one, but he was provided with every
+needful comfort, and the atmosphere of kindness
+which surrounded him, gave him a feeling
+of peace and happiness which he had not
+enjoyed for a long time.
+
+Paul supposed that he would be at once set
+to work, and even then would have accounted
+himself fortunate in possessing such a home.
+
+But Mr. Cameron had other views for him.
+
+"Are you fond of studying?" asked the
+sexton, as they were all three gathered in the
+little sitting room, an evening or two after
+Paul first came.
+
+"Very much!" replied our hero.
+
+"And would you like to go to school?"
+
+"What, here in New York?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Oh, very much indeed."
+
+"I am glad to hear you say so, my lad. 
+There is nothing like a good education.  If I
+had a son of my own, I would rather leave him
+that than money, for while the last may be
+lost, the first never can be.  And though you
+are not my son, Paul, Providence has in a
+manner conducted you to me, and I feel
+responsible for your future.  So you shall go to
+school next Monday morning, and I hope you
+will do yourself much credit there."
+
+"Thank you very much," said Paul.  "I
+feel very grateful, but----"
+
+"You surely are not going to object?" said
+the sexton.
+
+"No, but----"
+
+"Well, Paul, go on," seeing that the boy
+hesitated.
+
+"Why," said our hero, with a sense of
+delicacy which did him credit, "If I go to school,
+I shall not be able to earn my board, and shall
+be living at your expense, though I have no
+claim upon you."
+
+"Oh, is that all?" said the sexton
+cheerfully, "I was afraid that it was something
+more serious.  As to that, I am not rich, and
+never expect to be.  But what little expense
+you will be will not ruin me.  Besides, when
+you are grown up and doing well, you can repay
+me, if I ever need it."
+
+"That I will," said Paul.
+
+"Mind, if I ever need it,--not otherwise. 
+There, now, it's a bargain on that condition. 
+You haven't any other objection," seeing that
+Paul still hesitated.
+
+"No, or at least I should like to ask your
+advice," said Paul.  "Just before my father
+died, he told me of a debt of five hundred dollars
+which he had not been able to pay.  I saw
+that it troubled him, and I promised to pay it
+whenever I was able.  I don't know but I
+ought to go to work so as to keep my promise."
+
+"No," said the sexton after a moment's
+reflection, "the best course will be to go to
+school, at present.  Knowledge is power, and
+a good education will help you to make money
+by and by.  I approve your resolution, my lad,
+and if you keep it resolutely in mind I have
+no doubt you will accomplish your object. 
+But the quickest road to success is through the
+schoolroom.  At present you are not able to
+earn much.  Two or three years hence will be
+time enough."
+
+Paul's face brightened as the sexton said
+this.  He instinctively felt that Mr. Cameron
+was right.  He had never forgotten his father's
+dying injunction, and this was one reason that
+impelled him to run away from the Almshouse,
+because he felt that while he remained he
+never would be in a situation to carry out his
+father's wishes.  Now his duty was reconciled
+with his pleasure, and he gratefully accepted
+the sexton's suggestions.
+
+The next Monday morning, in accordance
+with the arrangement which had just been
+agreed upon, Paul repaired to school.  He was
+at once placed in a class, and lessons were
+assigned him.
+
+At first his progress was not rapid.  While
+living in Wrenville he had an opportunity only
+of attending a country school, kept less than
+six months in the year, and then not affording
+advantages to be compared with those of a city
+school.  During his father's sickness, besides,
+he had been kept from school altogether.  Of
+course all this lost time could not be made up
+in a moment.  Therefore it was that Paul
+lagged behind his class.
+
+There are generally some in every school,
+who are disposed to take unfair advantage of
+their schoolmates, or to ridicule those whom
+they consider inferior to themselves.
+
+There was one such in Paul's class.  His
+name was George Dawkins.
+
+He was rather a showy boy, and learned
+easily.  He might have stood a class above where
+he was, if he had not been lazy, and depended
+too much on his natural talent.  As it was, he
+maintained the foremost rank in his class.
+
+"Better be the first man in a village than
+the second man in Rome," he used to say; and
+as his present position not only gave him the
+pre-eminence which he desired, but cost him
+very little exertion to maintain, he was quite
+well satisfied with it.
+
+This boy stood first in his class, while Paul
+entered at the foot.
+
+He laughed unmercifully at the frequent
+mistakes of our hero, and jeeringly dubbed
+him, "Young Stupid."
+
+"Do you know what Dawkins calls you?"
+asked one of the boys.
+
+"No.  What does he call me?" asked Paul,
+seriously.
+
+"He calls you `Young Stupid.'"
+
+Paul's face flushed painfully.  Ridicule was
+as painful to him as it is to most boys, and he
+felt the insult deeply.
+
+"I'd fight him if I were you," was the
+volunteered advice of his informant.
+
+"No," said Paul.  "That wouldn't mend
+the matter.  Besides, I don't know but he has
+some reason for thinking so."
+
+"Don't call yourself stupid, do you?"
+
+"No, but I am not as far advanced as most
+boys of my age.  That isn't my fault, though. 
+I never had a chance to go to school much.  If
+I had been to school all my life, as Dawkins
+has, it would be time to find out whether I am
+stupid or not."
+
+"Then you ain't going to do anything about
+it?"
+
+"Yes, I am."
+
+"You said you wasn't going to fight him."
+
+"That wouldn't do any good.  But I'm
+going to study up and see if I can't get ahead of
+him.  Don't you think that will be the best
+way of showing him that he is mistaken?"
+
+"Yes, capital, but----"
+
+"But you think I can't do it, I suppose,"
+said Paul.
+
+"You know he is at the head of the class,
+and you are at the foot."
+
+"I know that," said Paul, resolutely.  "But
+wait awhile and see."
+
+In some way George Dawkins learned that
+Paul had expressed the determination to dispute
+his place.  It occasioned him considerable amusement.
+
+"Halloa, Young Stupid," he called out, at recess.
+
+Paul did not answer.
+
+"Why don't you answer when you are
+spoken to?" he asked angrily.
+
+"When you call me by my right name," said
+Paul, quietly, "I will answer, and not before."
+
+"You're mighty independent," sneered
+Dawkins.  "I don't know but I may have to
+teach you manners."
+
+"You had better wait till you are qualified,"
+said Paul, coolly.
+
+Dawkins approached our hero menacingly,
+but Paul did not look in the least alarmed, and
+he concluded to attack him with words only.
+
+"I understand you have set yourself up as
+my rival!" he said, mockingly.
+
+"Not just yet," said Paul, "but in time I
+expect to be."
+
+"So you expect my place," said Dawkins,
+glancing about him.
+
+"We'll talk about that three months hence,"
+said Paul.
+
+"Don't hurt yourself studying," sneered
+Dawkins, scornfully.
+
+To this Paul did not deign a reply, but the
+same day he rose one in his class.
+
+Our hero had a large stock of energy and
+determination.  When he had once set his
+mind upon a thing, he kept steadily at work
+till he accomplished it.  This is the great
+secret of success.  It sometimes happens that
+a man who has done nothing will at once
+accomplish a brilliant success by one spasmodic
+effort, but such cases are extremely rare.
+
+"Slow and sure wins the race," is an old
+proverb that has a great deal of truth in it.
+
+Paul worked industriously.
+
+The kind sexton and his wife, who noticed
+his assiduity, strove to dissuade him from
+working so steadily.
+
+"You are working too hard, Paul," they said.
+
+"Do I look pale?" asked Paul, pointing
+with a smile to his red cheeks.
+
+"No, but you will before long."
+
+"When I am, I will study less.  But you
+know, Uncle Hugh," so the sexton instructed
+him to call him, "I want to make the most
+of my present advantages.  Besides, there's a
+particular boy who thinks I am stupid.  I
+want to convince him that he is mistaken."
+
+"You are a little ambitious, then, Paul?"
+
+"Yes, but it isn't that alone.  I know the
+value of knowledge, and I want to secure as
+much as I can."
+
+"That is an excellent motive, Paul."
+
+"Then you won't make me study less?"
+
+"Not unless I see you are getting sick."
+
+Paul took good care of this.  He knew how
+to play as well as to study, and his laugh on
+the playground was as merry as any.  His
+cheerful, obliging disposition made him a
+favorite with his companions.  Only George
+Dawkins held out; he had, for some reason,
+inbibed a dislike for Paul.
+
+Paul's industry was not without effect.  He
+gradually gained position in his class.
+
+"Take care, Dawkins," said one of his
+companions--the same one who had before spoken
+to Paul--"Paul Prescott will be disputing
+your place with you.  He has come up seventeen
+places in a month."
+
+"Much good it'll do him," said Dawkins,
+contemptuously.
+
+"For all that, you will have to be careful;
+I can tell you that."
+
+"I'm not in the least afraid.  I'm a little
+too firm in my position to be ousted by Young
+Stupid."
+
+"Just wait and see."
+
+Dawkins really entertained no apprehension. 
+He had unbounded confidence in himself,
+and felt a sense of power in the rapidity
+with which he could master a lesson.  He
+therefore did not study much, and though he
+could not but see that Paul was rapidly
+advancing, he rejected with scorn the idea that
+Young Stupid could displace him.
+
+This, however, was the object at which Paul
+was aiming.  He had not forgotten the nickname
+which Dawkins had given him, and this
+was the revenge which he sought,--a strictly
+honorable one.
+
+At length the day of his triumph came.  At
+the end of the month the master read off the
+class-list, and, much to his disgust, George
+Dawkins found himself playing second fiddle
+to Young Stupid.
+
+
+
+XVII.
+
+BEN'S PRACTICAL JOKE.
+
+
+Mrs. Mudge was in the back room, bending
+over a tub.  It was washing-day, and she was
+particularly busy.  She was a driving, bustling
+woman, and, whatever might be her faults of
+temper, she was at least industrious and
+energetic.  Had Mr. Mudge been equally so,
+they would have been better off in a worldly
+point of view.  But her husband was
+constitutionally lazy, and was never disposed to
+do more than was needful.
+
+Mrs. Mudge was in a bad humor that morning. 
+One of the cows had got into the garden
+through a gap in the fence, and made sad
+havoc among the cabbages.  Now if Mrs.
+Mudge had a weakness, it was for cabbages. 
+She was excessively fond of them, and had
+persuaded her husband to set out a large
+number of plants from which she expected
+a large crop.  They were planted in one
+corner of the garden, adjoining a piece of
+land, which, since mowing, had been used for
+pasturing the cows.  There was a weak place
+in the fence separating the two inclosures, and
+this Mrs. Mudge had requested her husband to
+attend to.  He readily promised this, and Mrs.
+Mudge supposed it done, until that same morning,
+her sharp eyes had detected old Brindle
+munching the treasured cabbages with a provoking
+air of enjoyment.  The angry lady
+seized a broom, and repaired quickly to the
+scene of devastation.  Brindle scented the
+danger from afar, and beat a disorderly retreat,
+trampling down the cabbages which she
+had hitherto spared.  Leaping over the broken
+fence, she had just cleared the gap as the
+broom-handle, missing her, came forcibly
+down upon the rail, and was snapped in sunder
+by the blow.
+
+Here was a new vexation.  Brindle had not
+only escaped scot-free, but the broom, a new
+one, bought only the week before, was broken.
+
+"It's a plaguy shame," said Mrs. Mudge,
+angrily.  "There's my best broom broken; cost
+forty-two cents only last week."
+
+She turned and contemplated the scene of
+devastation.  This yielded her little consolation.
+
+"At least thirty cabbages destroyed by that
+scamp of a cow," she exclaimed in a tone
+bordering on despair.  "I wish I'd a hit her.  If
+I'd broken my broom over her back I wouldn't
+a cared so much.  And it's all Mudge's fault.
+He's the most shiftless man I ever see.  I'll
+give him a dressing down, see if I don't."
+
+Mrs. Mudge's eyes snapped viciously, and
+she clutched the relics of the broom with a degree
+of energy which rendered it uncertain
+what sort of a dressing down she intended for
+her husband.
+
+Ten minutes after she had re-entered the
+kitchen, the luckless man made his appearance. 
+He wore his usual look, little dreaming
+of the storm that awaited him.
+
+"I'm glad you've come," said Mrs. Mudge,
+grimly.
+
+"What's amiss, now?" inquired Mudge, for
+he understood her look.
+
+"What's amiss?" blazed Mrs. Mudge.  "I'll
+let you know.  Do you see this?"
+
+She seized the broken broom and flourished
+it in his face.
+
+"Broken your broom, have you?  You must
+have been careless."
+
+"Careless, was I?" demanded Mrs. Mudge,
+sarcastically.  "Yes, of course, it's always I
+that am in fault."
+
+"You haven't broken it over the back of any
+of the paupers, have you?" asked her husband,
+who, knowing his helpmeet's infirmity of
+temper, thought it possible she might have
+indulged in such an amusement.
+
+"If I had broken it over anybody's back it
+would have been yours," said the lady.
+
+"Mine! what have I been doing?"
+
+"It's what you haven't done," said Mrs.
+Mudge.  "You're about the laziest and most
+shiftless man I ever came across."
+
+"Come, what does all this mean?"
+demanded Mr. Mudge, who was getting a little
+angry in his turn.
+
+"I'll let you know.  Just look out of that
+window, will you?"
+
+"Well," said Mr. Mudge, innocently, "I
+don't see anything in particular."
+
+"You don't!" said Mrs. Mudge with withering
+sarcasm.  "Then you'd better put on your
+glasses.  If you'd been here quarter of an hour
+ago, you'd have seen Brindle among the cabbages."
+
+"Did she do any harm?" asked Mr. Mudge, hastily.
+
+"There's scarcely a cabbage left," returned
+Mrs. Mudge, purposely exaggerating the mischief done.
+
+"If you had mended that fence, as I told
+you to do, time and again, it wouldn't have
+happened."
+
+"You didn't tell me but once," said Mr.
+Mudge, trying to get up a feeble defence.
+
+"Once should have been enough, and more
+than enough.  You expect me to slave myself
+to death in the house, and see to all your work
+besides.  If I'd known what a lazy, shiftless
+man you were, at the time I married you, I'd
+have cut off my right hand first."
+
+By this time Mr. Mudge had become angry.
+
+"If you hadn't married me, you'd a died an
+old maid," he retorted.
+
+This was too much for Mrs. Mudge to bear. 
+She snatched the larger half of the broom, and
+fetched it down with considerable emphasis
+upon the back of her liege lord, who, perceiving
+that her temper was up, retreated hastily
+from the kitchen; as he got into the yard he
+descried Brindle, whose appetite had been
+whetted by her previous raid, re-entering the
+garden through the gap.  
+
+It was an unfortunate attempt on the part
+of Brindle.  Mr. Mudge, angry with his wife,
+and smarting with the blow from the broomstick,
+determined to avenge himself upon the
+original cause of all the trouble.  Revenge
+suggested craft.  He seized a hoe, and crept
+stealthily to the cabbage-plot.  Brindle, whose
+back was turned, did not perceive his
+approach, until she felt a shower of blows upon
+her back.  Confused at the unexpected attack
+she darted wildly away, forgetting the gap in
+the fence, and raced at random over beds of
+vegetables, uprooting beets, parsnips, and
+turnips, while Mr. Mudge, mad with rage,
+followed close in her tracks, hitting her with the
+hoe whenever he got a chance.
+
+Brindle galloped through the yard, and out
+at the open gate.  Thence she ran up the road
+at the top of her speed, with Mr. Mudge still
+pursuing her.
+
+It may be mentioned here that Mr. Mudge
+was compelled to chase the terrified cow over
+two miles before he succeeded with the help of
+a neighbor in capturing her.  All this took
+time.  Meanwhile Mrs. Mudge at home was
+subjected to yet another trial of her temper.
+
+It has already been mentioned that Squire
+Newcome was Chairman of the Overseers of
+the Poor.  In virtue of his office, he was
+expected to exercise a general supervision over
+the Almshouse and its management.  It was
+his custom to call about once a month to look
+after matters, and ascertain whether any
+official action or interference was needed.
+
+Ben saw his father take his gold-headed
+cane from behind the door, and start down the
+road.  He understood his destination, and
+instantly the plan of a stupendous practical
+joke dawned upon him.
+
+"It'll be jolly fun," he said to himself, his
+eyes dancing with fun.  "I'll try it, anyway."
+
+He took his way across the fields, so as to
+reach the Almshouse before his father.  He
+then commenced his plan of operations.
+
+Mrs. Mudge had returned to her tub, and
+was washing away with bitter energy, thinking
+over her grievances in the matter of Mr.
+Mudge, when a knock was heard at the front
+door.
+
+Taking her hands from the tub, she wiped
+them on her apron.
+
+"I wish folks wouldn't come on washing
+day!" she said in a tone of vexation.
+
+She went to the door and opened it.
+
+There was nobody there.
+
+"I thought somebody knocked," thought
+she, a little mystified.  "Perhaps I was mistaken."
+
+She went back to her tub, and had no sooner
+got her hands in the suds than another knock
+was heard, this time on the back door.
+
+"I declare!" said she, in increased vexation,
+"There's another knock.  I shan't get through
+my washing to-day."
+
+Again Mrs. Mudge wiped her hands on her
+apron, and went to the door.
+
+There was nobody there.
+
+I need hardly say that it was Ben, who had
+knocked both times, and instantly dodged
+round the corner of the house.
+
+"It's some plaguy boy," said Mrs. Mudge,
+her eyes blazing with anger.  "Oh, if I could
+only get hold of him!"
+
+"Don't you wish you could?" chuckled Ben
+to himself, as he caught a sly glimpse of the
+indignant woman.
+
+Meanwhile, Squire Newcome had walked
+along in his usual slow and dignified manner,
+until he had reached the front door of the
+Poorhouse, and knocked.
+
+"It's that plaguy boy again," said Mrs.
+Mudge, furiously.  "I won't go this time, but
+if he knocks again, I'll fix him."
+
+She took a dipper of hot suds from the tub
+in which she had been washing, and crept
+carefully into the entry, taking up a station close
+to the front door.
+
+"I wonder if Mrs. Mudge heard me knock,"
+thought Squire Newcome.  "I should think
+she might.  I believe I will knock again."
+
+This time he knocked with his cane.
+
+Rat-tat-tat sounded on the door.
+
+The echo had not died away, when the door
+was pulled suddenly open, and a dipper full
+of hot suds was dashed into the face of the
+astonished Squire, accompanied with, "Take
+that, you young scamp!"
+
+"Wh--what does all this mean?" gasped
+Squire Newcome, nearly strangled with the
+suds, a part of which had found its way into
+his mouth.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Squire Newcome," said
+the horrified Mrs. Mudge.  "I didn't mean it."
+
+"What did you mean, then?" demanded
+Squire Newcome, sternly.  "I think you
+addressed me,--ahem!--as a scamp."
+
+"Oh, I didn't mean you," said Mrs. Mudge,
+almost out of her wits with perplexity.
+
+"Come in, sir, and let me give you a towel. 
+You've no idea how I've been tried this morning."
+
+"I trust," said the Squire, in his stateliest
+tone, "you will be able to give a satisfactory
+explanation of this, ahem--extraordinary proceeding."
+
+While Mrs. Mudge was endeavoring to sooth
+the ruffled dignity of the aggrieved Squire,
+the "young scamp," who had caused all the mischief,
+made his escape through the fields.
+
+"Oh, wasn't it bully!" he exclaimed.  "I
+believe I shall die of laughing.  I wish Paul
+had been here to see it.  Mrs. Mudge has got
+herself into a scrape, now, I'm thinking."
+
+Having attained a safe distance from the Poorhouse,
+Ben doubled himself up and rolled over and over
+upon the grass, convulsed with laughter.
+
+"I'd give five dollars to see it all over again,"
+he said to himself.  "I never had such splendid
+fun in my life."
+
+Presently the Squire emerged, his tall dicky
+looking decidedly limp and drooping, his face
+expressing annoyance and outraged dignity. 
+Mrs. Mudge attended him to the door with an
+expression of anxious concern.
+
+"I guess I'd better make tracks," said Ben
+to himself, "it won't do for the old gentleman
+to see me here, or he may smell a rat."
+
+He accordingly scrambled over a stone wall
+and lay quietly hidden behind it till he judged
+it would be safe to make his appearance.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII.
+
+MORE ABOUT BEN.
+
+
+"Benjamin," said Squire Newcome, two
+days after the occurrence mentioned in the
+last chapter, "what made the dog howl so this
+morning?  Was you a doing anything to him?"
+
+"I gave him his breakfast," said Ben,
+innocently.  "Perhaps he was hungry, and howling
+for that."
+
+"I do not refer to that," said the Squire. 
+"He howled as if in pain or terror.  I repeat;
+was you a doing anything to him?"
+
+Ben shifted from one foot to the other, and
+looked out of the window.
+
+"I desire a categorical answer," said Squire Newcome.
+
+"Don't know what categorical means," said
+Ben, assuming a perplexed look.
+
+"I desire you to answer me IMMEGIATELY,"
+explained the Squire.  "What was you a doing
+to Watch?"
+
+"I was tying a tin-kettle to his tail," said
+Ben, a little reluctantly.
+
+"And what was you a doing that for?"
+pursued the Squire.
+
+"I wanted to see how he would look," said
+Ben, glancing demurely at his father, out of
+the corner of his eye.
+
+"Did it ever occur to you that it must be
+disagreeable to Watch to have such an appendage
+to his tail?" queried the Squire.
+
+"I don't know," said Ben.
+
+"How should you like to have a tin pail
+suspended to your--ahem! your coat tail?"
+
+"I haven't got any coat tail," said Ben, "I
+wear jackets.  But I think I am old enough to
+wear coats.  Can't I have one made, father?"
+
+"Ahem!" said the Squire, blowing his nose,
+"we will speak of that at some future period."
+
+"Fred Newell wears a coat, and he isn't any
+older than I am," persisted Ben, who was
+desirous of interrupting his father's inquiries.
+
+"I apprehend that we are wandering from
+the question," said the Squire.  "Would you
+like to be treated as you treated Watch?"
+
+"No," said Ben, slowly, "I don't know as I
+should."
+
+"Then take care not to repeat your conduct
+of this morning," said his father.  "Stay a
+moment," as Ben was about to leave the room
+hastily.  "I desire that you should go to the
+post-office and inquire for letters."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+Ben left the room and sauntered out in the
+direction of the post-office.
+
+A chaise, driven by a stranger, stopped as it
+came up with him.
+
+The driver looked towards Ben, and inquired,
+"Boy, is this the way to Sparta?"
+
+Ben, who was walking leisurely along the path,
+whistling as he went, never turned his head.
+
+"Are you deaf, boy?" said the driver, impatiently.
+"I want to know if this is the road to Sparta?"
+
+Ben turned round.
+
+"Fine morning, sir," he said politely.
+
+"I know that well enough without your telling me.
+Will you tell me whether this is the road to Sparta?"
+
+Ben put his hand to his ear, and seemed to
+listen attentively.  Then he slowly shook his
+head, and said, "Would you be kind enough
+to speak a little louder, sir?"
+
+"The boy is deaf, after all," said the driver
+to himself.  "IS THIS THE ROAD TO SPARTA?"
+
+"Yes, sir, this is Wrenville," said Ben, politely.
+
+"Plague take it! he don't hear me yet.  IS
+THIS THE ROAD TO SPARTA?"
+
+"Just a little louder, if you please," said
+Ben, keeping his hand to his ear, and appearing
+anxious to hear.
+
+"Deaf as a post!" muttered the driver.  "I
+couldn't scream any louder, if I should try. 
+Go along."
+
+"Poor man! I hope he hasn't injured his voice,"
+thought Ben, his eyes dancing with fun.
+"By gracious!" he continued a moment later,
+bursting into a laugh, "if he isn't going to ask
+the way of old Tom Haven.  He's as deaf
+as I pretended to be."
+
+The driver had reined up again, and inquired
+the way to Sparta.
+
+"What did you say?" said the old man,
+putting his hand to his ear.  "I'm rather hard
+of hearing."
+
+The traveller repeated his question in a
+louder voice.
+
+The old man shook his head.
+
+"I guess you'd better ask that boy," he said,
+pointing to Ben, who by this time had nearly
+come up with the chaise.
+
+"I have had enough of him," said the traveller,
+disgusted.  "I believe you're all deaf in this town.
+I'll get out of it as soon as possible."
+
+He whipped up his horse, somewhat to the
+old man's surprise, and drove rapidly away.
+
+I desire my young readers to understand
+that I am describing Ben as he was, and not as
+he ought to be.  There is no doubt that he
+carried his love of fun too far.  We will hope
+that as he grows older, he will grow wiser.
+
+Ben pursued the remainder of his way to
+the Post-office without any further adventure.
+
+Entering a small building appropriated to
+this purpose, he inquired for letters.
+
+"There's nothing for your father to-day,"
+said the post-master.
+
+"Perhaps there's something for me,--
+Benjamin Newcome, Esq.," said Ben.
+
+"Let me see," said the post-master, putting
+on his spectacles; "yes, I believe there is. 
+Post-marked at New York, too.  I didn't know
+you had any correspondents there."
+
+"It's probably from the Mayor of New
+York," said Ben, in a tone of comical
+importance, "asking my advice about laying out
+Central Park."
+
+"Probably it is," said the postmaster.  "It's
+a pretty thick letter,--looks like an official
+document."
+
+By this time, Ben, who was really surprised
+by the reception of the letter, had opened it. 
+It proved to be from our hero, Paul Prescott,
+and inclosed one for Aunt Lucy.
+
+"Mr. Crosby," said Ben, suddenly, addressing
+the postmaster, "you remember about
+Paul Prescott's running away from the Poorhouse?"
+
+"Yes, I didn't blame the poor boy a bit.  I
+never liked Mudge, and they say his wife is
+worse than he."
+
+"Well, suppose the town should find out
+where he is, could they get him back again?"
+
+"Bless you! no.  They ain't so fond of
+supporting paupers.  If he's able to earn his own
+living, they won't want to interfere with him."
+
+"Well, this letter is from him," said Ben.
+"He's found a pleasant family in New York,
+who have adopted him."
+
+"I'm glad of it," said Mr. Crosby, heartily.
+"I always liked him.  He was a fine fellow."
+
+"That's just what I think.  I'll read his
+letter to you, if you would like to hear it."
+
+"I should, very much.  Come in behind here,
+and sit down."
+
+Ben went inside the office, and sitting down
+on a stool, read Paul's letter.  As our reader
+may be interested in the contents, we will take
+the liberty of looking over Ben's shoulder while
+he reads.
+
+                         New York, Oct. 10, 18--.
+DEAR BEN:--
+
+I have been intending to write to you before, knowing
+the kind interest which you take in me.  I got safely to New
+York a few days after I left Wrenville.  I didn't have so hard
+a time as I expected, having fallen in with a pedler, who was
+very kind to me, with whom I rode thirty or forty miles.  I
+wish I had time to tell all the adventures I met with on the
+way, but I must wait till I see you.
+
+When I got to the city, I was astonished to find how large
+it was.  The first day I got pretty tired wandering about,
+and strayed into a church in the evening, not knowing where
+else to go.  I was so tired I fell asleep there, and didn't wake
+up till morning.  When I found myself locked up in a great
+church, I was frightened, I can tell you.  It was only Thursday
+morning, and I was afraid I should have to stay there till
+Sunday.  If I had, I am afraid I should have starved to
+death.  But, fortunately for me, the sexton came in the morning,
+and let me out.  That wasn't all.  He very kindly took
+me home with him, and then told me I might live with him
+and go to school.  I like him very much, and his wife too.  I
+call them Uncle Hugh and Aunt Hester.  When you write to
+me, you must direct to the care of Mr. Hugh Cameron, 10
+R---- Street.  Then it will be sure to reach me.
+
+I am going to one of the city schools.  At first, I was a
+good deal troubled because I was so far behind boys of my
+age.  You know I hadn't been to school for a long time before
+I left Wrenville, on account of father's sickness.  But I
+studied pretty hard, and now I stand very well.  I sometimes
+think, Ben, that you don't care quite so much about study as
+you ought to.  I wish you would come to feel the importance
+of it.  You must excuse me saying this, as we have always
+been such good friends.
+
+I sometimes think of Mr. and Mrs. Mudge, and wonder
+whether they miss me much.  I am sure Mr. Mudge misses
+me, for now he is obliged to get up early and milk, unless he
+has found another boy to do it.  If he has, I pity the boy. 
+Write me what they said about my going away.
+
+I inclose a letter for Aunt Lucy Lee, which I should like to
+have you give her with your own hands.  Don't trust it to
+Mrs. Mudge, for she doesn't like Aunt Lucy, and I don't think
+she would give it to her.
+
+Write soon, Ben, and I will answer without delay,
+               Your affectionate friend,
+                              PAUL PRESCOTT.
+
+
+"That's a very good letter," said Mr.
+Crosby; "I am glad Paul is doing so well.  I
+should like to see him."
+
+"So should I," said Ben; "he was a prime
+fellow,--twice as good as I am.  That's true,
+what he said about my not liking study.  I
+guess I'll try to do better."
+
+"You'll make a smart boy if you only try,"
+said the postmaster, with whom Ben was
+rather a favorite, in spite of his mischievous
+propensities.
+
+"Thank you," said Ben, laughing, "that's
+what my friend, the mayor of New York, often
+writes me.  But honestly, I know I can do a
+good deal better than I am doing now.  I don't
+know but I shall turn over a new leaf.  I suppose
+I like fun a little too well.  Such jolly
+sport as I had coming to the office this morning."
+
+Ben related the story of the traveller who
+inquired the way to Sparta, much to the amusement
+of the postmaster, who, in his enjoyment
+of the joke, forgot to tell Ben that his conduct
+was hardly justifiable.
+
+"Now," said Ben, "as soon as I have been
+home, I must go and see my particular friend,
+Mrs. Mudge.  I'm a great favorite of hers,"
+he added, with a sly wink.
+
+
+
+XIX.
+
+MRS. MUDGE'S DISCOMFITURE.
+
+
+Ben knocked at the door of the Poorhouse. 
+In due time Mrs. Mudge appeared.  She was
+a little alarmed on seeing Ben, not knowing
+how Squire Newcome might be affected by the
+reception she had given him on his last visit. 
+Accordingly she received him with unusual
+politeness.
+
+"How do you do, Master Newcome?" she inquired.
+
+"As well as could be expected," said Ben,
+hesitatingly.
+
+"Why, is there anything the matter with
+you?" inquired Mrs. Mudge, her curiosity excited
+by his manner of speaking.
+
+"No one can tell what I suffer from rheumatism,"
+said Ben, sadly.
+
+This was very true, since not even Ben
+himself could have told.
+
+"You are very young to be troubled in that
+way," said Mrs. Mudge, "and how is your
+respected father, to-day?" she inquired, with
+some anxiety.
+
+"I was just going to ask you, Mrs. Mudge,"
+said Ben, "whether anything happened to disturb
+him when he called here day before yesterday?"
+
+"Why," said Mrs. Mudge, turning a little
+pale, "Nothing of any consequence,--that is,
+not much.  What makes you ask?"
+
+"I thought it might be so from his manner,"
+said Ben, enjoying Mrs. Mudge's evident alarm.
+
+"There was a little accident," said Mrs.
+Mudge, reluctantly.  "Some mischievous boy
+had been knocking and running away; so, when
+your father knocked, I thought it might be he,
+and--and I believe I threw some water on
+him.  But I hope he has forgiven it, as it
+wasn't intentional.  I should like to get hold
+of that boy," said Mrs. Mudge, wrathfully, "I
+should like to shake him up."
+
+"Have you any idea who it was?" asked
+Ben, gravely.
+
+"No," said Mrs. Mudge, "I haven't, but I shall
+try to find out.  Whoever it is, he's a scamp."
+
+"Very complimentary old lady," thought
+Ben.  He said in a sober tone, which would
+have imposed upon any one, "There are a good
+many mischievous boys around here."
+
+Mrs. Mudge grimly assented.
+
+"Oh, by the way, Mrs. Mudge," asked Ben,
+suddenly, "have you ever heard anything of
+Paul Prescott since he left you?"
+
+"No," snapped Mrs. Mudge, her countenance
+growing dark, "I haven't.  But I can tell
+pretty well where he is."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"In the penitentiary.  At any rate, if he
+isn't, he ought to be.  But what was you wanting?"
+
+"I want to see Mrs. Lee."
+
+"Aunt Lucy Lee?"
+
+"Yes.  I've got a letter for her."
+
+"If you'll give me the letter I'll carry it to her."
+
+"Thank you," said Ben, "but I would like to see her."
+
+"Never mind," thought Mrs. Mudge, "I'll
+get hold of it yet.  I shouldn't wonder at all if
+it was from that rascal, Paul."
+
+Poor Paul!  It was fortunate that he had
+some better friends than Mr. and Mrs. Mudge,
+otherwise he would have been pretty poorly off.
+
+Aunt Lucy came to the door.  Ben placed
+the letter in her hands.
+
+"Is it from Paul?" she asked, hopefully.
+
+"Yes," said Ben.
+
+She opened it eagerly.  "Is he well?" she asked.
+
+"Yes, well and happy," said Ben, who
+treated the old lady, for whom he had much
+respect, very differently from Mrs. Mudge.
+
+"I'm truly thankful for that," said Aunt
+Lucy; "I've laid awake more than one night
+thinking of him."
+
+"So has Mrs. Mudge, I'm thinking," said Ben, slyly.
+
+Aunt Lucy laughed.
+
+"There isn't much love lost between them,"
+said Aunt Lucy, smiling.  "He was very badly
+treated here, poor boy."
+
+"Was he, though?" repeated Mrs. Mudge?
+who had been listening at the keyhole, but not
+in an audible voice.  "Perhaps he will be
+again, if I get him back.  I thought that letter
+was from Paul.  I must get hold of it some
+time to-day."
+
+"I believe I must go," said Ben.  "If you
+answer the letter, I will put it into the office
+for you.  I shall be passing here to-morrow."
+
+"You are very kind," said Aunt Lucy.  "I
+am very much obliged to you for bringing me
+this letter to-day.  You can't tell how happy
+it makes me.  I have been so afraid the dear
+boy might be suffering."
+
+"It's no trouble at all," said Ben.
+
+"She's a pretty good woman," thought he,
+as he left the house.  "I wouldn't play a trick
+on her for a good deal.  But that Mrs. Mudge
+is a hard case.  I wonder what she would have
+said if she had known that I was the "scamp"
+that troubled her so much Monday.  If I had such
+a mother as that, by jingo, I'd run away to sea."
+
+Mrs. Mudge was bent upon reading Aunt
+Lucy's letter.  Knowing it to be from Paul,
+she had a strong curiosity to know what had
+become of him.  If she could only get him
+back!  Her heart bounded with delight as she
+thought of the annoyances to which, in that
+case, she could subject him.  It would be a
+double triumph over him and Aunt Lucy,
+against whom she felt that mean spite with
+which a superior nature is often regarded by
+one of a lower order.
+
+After some reflection, Mrs. Mudge concluded
+that Aunt Lucy would probably leave the letter
+in the little chest which was appropriated
+to her use, and which was kept in the room
+where she slept.  The key of this chest had
+been lost, and although Aunt Lucy had
+repeatedly requested that a new one should be
+obtained, Mrs. Mudge had seen fit to pay no
+attention to her request, as it would interfere
+with purposes of her own, the character of
+which may easily be guessed.
+
+As she suspected, Paul's letter had been
+deposited in this chest.
+
+Accordingly, the same afternoon, she left
+her work in the kitchen in order to institute
+a search for it.  As a prudent precaution,
+however, she just opened the door of the common
+room, to make sure that Aunt Lucy was at
+work therein.
+
+She made her way upstairs, and entering
+the room in which the old lady lodged, together
+with two others, she at once went to
+the chest and opened it.
+
+She began to rummage round among the old
+lady's scanty treasures, and at length, much
+to her joy, happened upon the letter, laid
+carefully away in one corner of the chest.  She
+knew it was the one she sought, from the recent
+postmark, and the address, which was in
+the unformed handwriting of a boy.  To make
+absolutely certain, she drew the letter from
+the envelope and looked at the signature.
+
+She was right, as she saw at a glance.  It
+was from Paul.
+
+"Now I'll see what the little rascal has to
+say for himself," she muttered, "I hope he's
+in distress; oh, how I'd like to get hold of
+him."
+
+Mrs. Mudge began eagerly to read the letter,
+not dreaming of interruption.  But she was
+destined to be disappointed.  To account for
+this we must explain that, shortly after Mrs.
+Mudge looked into the common room, Aunt
+Lucy was reminded of something essential,
+which she had left upstairs.  She accordingly
+laid down her work upon the chair in which
+she had been sitting, and went up to her chamber.
+
+Mrs. Mudge was too much preoccupied to
+hear the advancing steps.
+
+As the old lady entered the chamber, what
+was her mingled indignation and dismay at
+seeing Mrs. Mudge on her knees before _*her_
+chest, with the precious letter, whose arrival
+had gladdened her so much, in her hands.
+
+"What are you doing there, Mrs. Mudge?"
+she said, sternly.
+
+Mrs. Mudge rose from her knees in confusion. 
+Even she had the grace to be ashamed
+of her conduct.
+
+"Put down that letter," said the old lady
+in an authoritative voice quite new to her.
+
+Mrs. Mudge, who had not yet collected her
+scattered senses, did as she was requested.
+
+Aunt Lucy walked hastily to the chest, and
+closed it, first securing the letter, which she
+put in her pocket.
+
+"I hope it will be safe, now," she said, rather
+contemptuously.  "Ain't you ashamed of yourself,
+Mrs. Mudge?"
+
+"Ashamed of myself!" shrieked that amiable
+lady, indignant with herself for having
+quailed for a moment before the old lady.
+
+"What do you mean--you--you pauper?"
+
+"I may be a pauper," said Aunt Lucy,
+calmly, "But I am thankful to say that I mind
+my own business, and don't meddle with other
+people's chests."
+
+A red spot glowed on either cheek of Mrs.
+Mudge.  She was trying hard to find some vantage-
+ground over the old lady.
+
+"Do you mean to say that I don't mind my business?"
+she blustered, folding her arms defiantly.
+
+"What were you at my trunk for?" said
+the old lady, significantly.
+
+"Because it was my duty," was the brazen reply.
+
+Mrs. Mudge had rapidly determined upon
+her line of defense, and thought it best to
+carry the war into the enemy's country.
+
+"Yes, I felt sure that your letter was from
+Paul Prescott, and as he ran away from my
+husband and me, who were his lawful guardians,
+it was my duty to take that means of
+finding out where he is.  I knew that you
+were in league with him, and would do all
+you could to screen him.  This is why I went
+to your chest, and I would do it again, if necessary."
+
+"Perhaps you have been before," said Aunt
+Lucy, scornfully.  "I think I understand, now,
+why you were unwilling to give me another
+key.  Fortunately there has been nothing there
+until now to reward your search."
+
+"You impudent trollop!" shrieked Mrs. Mudge, furiously.
+
+Her anger was the greater, because Aunt
+Lucy was entirely correct in her supposition
+that this was not the first visit her landlady
+had made to the little green chest.
+
+"I'll give Paul the worst whipping he ever had,
+when I get him back," said Mrs. Mudge, angrily.
+
+"He is beyond your reach, thank Providence,"
+said Aunt Lucy, whose equanimity was
+not disturbed by this menace, which she knew
+to be an idle one.  "That is enough for you
+to know.  I will take care that you never have
+another chance to see this letter.  And if you
+ever go to my chest again"--
+
+"Well, ma'am, what then?"
+
+"I shall appeal for protection to 'Squire Newcome."
+
+"Hoity, toity," said Mrs. Mudge, but she
+was a little alarmed, nevertheless, as such an
+appeal would probably be prejudicial to her interest.
+
+So from time to time Aunt Lucy received,
+through Ben, letters from Paul, which kept
+her acquainted with his progress at school. 
+These letters were very precious to the old
+lady, and she read them over many times. 
+They formed a bright link of interest which
+bound her to the outside world, and enabled
+her to bear up with greater cheerfulness
+against the tyranny of Mrs. Mudge.
+
+
+
+XX.
+
+PAUL OBTAINS A SITUATION.
+
+
+The month after Paul Prescott succeeded
+in reaching the head of his class, George Dawkins
+exerted himself to rise above him.  He
+studied better than usual, and proved in truth
+a formidable rival.  But Paul's spirit was
+roused.  He resolved to maintain his position
+if possible.  He had now become accustomed
+to study, and it cost him less effort.  When the
+end of the month came, there was considerable
+speculation in the minds of the boys as to the
+result of the rivalry.  The majority had faith
+in Paul, but there were some who, remembering
+how long Dawkins had been at the head of the class,
+thought he would easily regain his lost rank.
+
+The eventful day, the first of the month,
+at length came, and the class-list was read.
+
+Paul Prescott ranked first.
+
+George Dawkins ranked second.
+
+A flush spread over the pale face of Dawkins,
+and he darted a malignant glance at Paul,
+who was naturally pleased at having retained his rank.
+
+Dawkins had his satellites.  One of these
+came to him at recess, and expressed his regret
+that Dawkins had failed of success.
+
+Dawkins repelled the sympathy with cold disdain.
+
+"What do you suppose I care for the head of
+the class?" he demanded, haughtily.
+
+"I thought you had been studying for it."
+
+"Then you thought wrong.  Let the sexton's
+son have it, if he wants it.  It would be of no
+use to me, as I leave this school at the end of
+the week."
+
+"Leave school!"
+
+The boys gathered about Dawkins, curiously.
+
+"Is it really so, Dawkins?" they inquired.
+
+"Yes," said Dawkins, with an air of
+importance; "I shall go to a private school, where
+the advantages are greater than here.  My
+father does not wish me to attend a public
+school any longer.
+
+This statement was made on the spur of the
+moment, to cover the mortification which his
+defeat had occasioned him.  It proved true,
+however.  On his return home, Dawkins succeeded
+in persuading his father to transfer
+him to a private school, and he took away his
+books at the end of the week.  Had he recovered
+his lost rank there is no doubt that he
+would have remained.
+
+Truth to tell, there were few who mourned
+much for the departure of George Dawkins. 
+He had never been a favorite.  His imperious
+temper and arrogance rendered this impossible.
+
+After he left school, Paul saw little of him
+for two or three years.  At their first
+encounter Paul bowed and spoke pleasantly, but
+Dawkins looked superciliously at him without
+appearing to know him.
+
+Paul's face flushed proudly, and afterwards
+he abstained from making advances which
+were likely to be repulsed.  He had too much
+self-respect to submit voluntarily to such slights.
+
+Meanwhile Paul's school life fled rapidly.  It
+was a happy time,--happy in its freedom from
+care, and happy for him, though all school
+boys do not appreciate that consideration, in
+the opportunities for improvement which it
+afforded.  These opportunities, it is only just
+to Paul to say, were fully improved.  He left
+school with an enviable reputation, and with
+the good wishes of his schoolmates and teachers.
+
+Paul was now sixteen years old, a stout,
+handsome boy, with a frank, open countenance,
+and a general air of health which
+formed quite a contrast to the appearance he
+presented when he left the hospitable mansion
+which Mr. Nicholas Mudge kept open at the
+public expense.
+
+Paul was now very desirous of procuring
+a situation.  He felt that it was time he was
+doing something for himself.  He was ambitious
+to relieve the kind sexton and his wife of some portion,
+at least, of the burden of his support.
+
+Besides, there was the legacy of debt which
+his father had bequeathed him.  Never for a
+moment had Paul forgotten it.  Never for a
+moment had he faltered in his determination
+to liquidate it at whatever sacrifice to himself.
+
+"My father's name shall be cleared," he said
+to himself, proudly.  "Neither Squire Conant
+nor any one else shall have it in his power
+to cast reproach upon his memory."
+
+The sexton applauded his purpose.
+
+"You are quite right, Paul," he said.  "But
+you need not feel in haste.  Obtain your education
+first, and the money will come by-and-
+by.  As long as you repay the amount, principal
+and interest, you will have done all that
+you are in honor bound to do.  Squire Conant,
+as I understand from you, is a rich man, so
+that he will experience no hardship in waiting."
+
+Paul was now solicitous about a place.  The
+sexton had little influence, so that he must
+depend mainly upon his own inquiries.
+
+He went into the reading-room of the Astor
+House every day to look over the advertised
+wants in the daily papers.  Every day he noted
+down some addresses, and presented himself
+as an applicant for a position.  Generally,
+however, he found that some one else had been
+before him.
+
+One day his attention was drawn to the
+following advertisement.
+
+
+"WANTED.  A smart, active, wide-awake
+boy, of sixteen or seventeen, in a retail dry-
+goods store.  Apply immediately at--Broadway."
+
+Paul walked up to the address mentioned. 
+Over the door he read, "Smith & Thompson." 
+This, then, was the firm that had advertised.
+
+The store ran back some distance.  There
+appeared to be six or eight clerks in attendance
+upon quite a respectable number of customers.
+
+"Is Mr. Smith in?" inquired Paul, of the
+nearest clerk.
+
+"You'll find him at the lower end of the
+store.  How many yards, ma'am?"
+
+This last was of course addressed to a customer.
+
+Paul made his way, as directed, to the lower
+end of the store.
+
+A short, wiry, nervous man was writing at
+a desk.
+
+"Is Mr. Smith in?" asked Paul.
+
+"My name; what can I do for you?" said
+the short man, crisply.
+
+"I saw an advertisement in the Tribune for a boy."
+
+"And you have applied for the situation?" said Mr. Smith.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"How old are you?" with a rapid glance at our hero.
+
+"Sixteen--nearly seventeen."
+
+"I suppose that means that you will be
+seventeen in eleven months and a half."
+
+"No, sir," said Paul, "I shall be seventeen
+in three months."
+
+"All right.  Most boys call themselves a
+year older.  What's your name?"
+
+"Paul Prescott."
+
+"P. P. Any relation to Fanny Fern?"
+
+"No, sir," said Paul, rather astonished.
+
+"Didn't know but you might be.  P. P. and
+F. F.  Where do you live?"
+
+Paul mentioned the street and number.
+
+"That's well, you are near by," said Mr.
+Smith.  "Now, are you afraid of work?"
+
+"No sir," said Paul, smiling, "not much."
+
+"Well, that's important; how much wages
+do you expect?"
+
+"I suppose," said Paul, hesitating, "I
+couldn't expect very much at first."
+
+"Of course not; green, you know.  What
+do you say to a dollar a week?"
+
+"A dollar a week!" exclaimed Paul, in dismay,
+"I hoped to get enough to pay for my
+board."
+
+"Nonsense.  There are plenty of boys glad
+enough to come for a dollar a week.  At first,
+you know.  But I'll stretch a point with you,
+and offer you a dollar and a quarter.  What do
+you say?"
+
+"How soon could I expect to have my wages advanced?"
+inquired our hero, with considerable anxiety.
+
+"Well," said Smith, "at the end of a month or two."
+
+"I'll go home and speak to my uncle about it,"
+said Paul, feeling undecided.
+
+"Can't keep the place open for you.
+Ah, there's another boy at the door."
+
+"I'll accept," said Paul, jumping to a decision.
+He had applied in so many different quarters
+without success, that he could not make up his mind
+to throw away this chance, poor as it seemed.
+
+"When shall I come?"
+
+"Come to-morrow"
+
+"At what time, sir?"
+
+"At seven o'clock."
+
+This seemed rather early.  However, Paul
+was prepared to expect some discomforts, and
+signified that he would come.
+
+As he turned to go away, another boy passed him,
+probably bent on the same errand with himself.
+
+Paul hardly knew whether to feel glad or
+sorry.  He had expected at least three dollars
+a week, and the descent to a dollar and a quarter
+was rather disheartening.  Still, he was
+encouraged by the promise of a rise at the end
+of a month or two,--so on the whole he went
+home cheerful.
+
+"Well, Paul, what luck to-day?" asked Mr.
+Cameron, who had just got home as Paul entered.
+
+"I've got a place, Uncle Hugh."
+
+"You have,--where?"
+
+"With Smith & Thompson, No.--Broadway."
+
+"What sort of a store?  I don't remember the name."
+
+"It is a retail dry-goods store."
+
+"Did you like the looks of your future employer?"
+
+"I don't know," said Paul, hesitating, "He
+looked as if he might be a pretty sharp man in
+business, but I have seen others that I would
+rather work for.  However, beggars mustn't
+be choosers.  But there was one thing I was
+disappointed about."
+
+"What was that, Paul?"
+
+"About the wages."
+
+"How much will they give you?"
+
+"Only a dollar and a quarter a week, at first."
+
+"That is small, to be sure."
+
+"The most I think of, Uncle Hugh, is, that
+I shall still be an expense to you.  I hoped to
+get enough to be able to pay my board from the first."
+
+"My dear boy," said the sexton, kindly,
+"don't trouble yourself on that score.  It costs
+little more for three than for two, and the
+little I expend on your account is richly made
+up by the satisfaction we feel in your society,
+and your good conduct."
+
+"You say that to encourage me, Uncle Hugh," said Paul.
+"You have done all for me.  I have done nothing for you."
+
+"No, Paul, I spoke the truth.  Hester and I have both
+been happier since you came to us.  We hope you will
+long remain with us.  You are already as dear to us
+as the son that we lost."
+
+"Thank you, Uncle Hugh," said Paul, in a
+voice tremulous with feeling.  "I will do all
+I can to deserve your kindness."
+
+
+
+XXI.
+
+SMITH AND THOMPSON'S YOUNG MAN.
+
+
+At seven o'clock the next morning Paul
+stood before Smith & Thompson's store.
+
+As he came up on one side, another boy came
+down on the other, and crossed the street.
+
+"Are you the new boy?" he asked, surveying
+Paul attentively.
+
+"I suppose so," said Paul.  "I've engaged
+to work for Smith & Thompson."
+
+"All right.  I'm glad to see you," said the other.
+
+This looked kind, and Paul thanked him for
+his welcome.
+
+"O." said the other, bursting into a laugh,
+"you needn't trouble yourself about thanking
+me.  I'm glad you've come, because now I
+shan't have to open the store and sweep out. 
+Just lend a hand there; I'll help you about taking
+down the shutters this morning, and to-morrow
+you'll have to get along alone."
+
+The two boys opened the store.
+
+"What's your name?" asked Paul's new acquaintance.
+
+"Paul Prescott.  What is yours?"
+
+"Nicholas Benton.  You may call me MR. Benton."
+
+"Mr. Benton?" repeated Paul in some astonishment.
+
+"Yes; I'm a young man now.  I've been Smith
+& Thompson's boy till now.  Now I'm promoted."
+
+Paul looked at MR. Benton with some amusement. 
+That young man was somewhat shorter
+than himself, and sole proprietor of a stock
+of pale yellow hair which required an abundant
+stock of bear's grease to keep it in order. 
+His face was freckled and expressionless.  His
+eyebrows and eyelashes were of the same faded
+color.  He was dressed, however, with some
+pretensions to smartness.  He wore a blue
+necktie, of large dimensions, fastened by an
+enormous breast-pin, which, in its already
+tarnished splendor, suggested strong doubts as
+to the apparent gold being genuine.
+
+"There's the broom, Paul," said Mr. Benton,
+assuming a graceful position on the counter.
+
+"You'll have to sweep out; only look sharp about
+raising a dust, or Smith'll be into your wool."
+
+"What sort of a man is Mr. Smith?" asked
+Paul, with some curiosity.
+
+"O, he's an out and outer.  Sharp as a steel trap.
+He'll make you toe the mark."
+
+"Do you like him?" asked Paul, not quite
+sure whether he understood his employer's
+character from the description.
+
+"I don't like him well enough to advise any
+of my folks to trade with him," said Mr. Benton.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"He'd cheat 'em out of their eye teeth if
+they happened to have any," said the young
+man coolly, beginning to pick his teeth with a
+knife.
+
+Paul began to doubt whether he should like
+Mr. Smith.
+
+"I say," said Mr. Benton after a pause,
+"have you begun to shave yet?"
+
+Paul looked up to see if his companion were
+in earnest.
+
+"No," said he; "I haven't got along as
+far as that.  Have you?"
+
+"I," repeated the young man, a little
+contemptuously, "of course I have.  I've shaved
+for a year and a half."
+
+"Do you find it hard shaving?" asked Paul,
+a little slyly.
+
+"Well, my beard is rather stiff," said the
+late BOY, with an important air, "but I've got
+used to it."
+
+"Ain't you rather young to shave,
+Nicholas?" asked Paul.
+
+"Mr. Benton, if you please."
+
+"I mean, Mr. Benton."
+
+"Perhaps I was when I begun.  But now I
+am nineteen."
+
+"Nineteen?"
+
+"Yes, that is to say, I'm within a few
+months of being nineteen.  What do you think
+of my moustache?"
+
+"I hadn't noticed it."
+
+"The store's rather dark," muttered Mr.
+Benton, who seemed a little annoyed by this
+answer.  "If you'll come a little nearer you
+can see it."
+
+Drawing near, Paul, after some trouble,
+descried a few scattering hairs.
+
+"Yes," said he, wanting to laugh, "I see it."
+
+"Coming on finely, isn't it?" asked Mr.
+Nicholas Benton, complacently.
+
+"Yes," said Paul, rather doubtfully.
+
+"I don't mind letting you into a secret,"
+said Benton, affably, "if you won't mention
+it.  I've been using some of the six weeks' stuff."
+
+"The what?" asked Paul, opening his eyes.
+
+"Haven't you heard of it?" inquired Benton,
+a little contemptuously.  "Where have
+you been living all your life?  Haven't you
+seen it advertised,--warranted to produce a
+full set of whiskers or moustaches upon the
+smoothest face, etc.  I got some a week ago,
+only a dollar.  Five weeks from now you'll see
+something that'll astonish you."
+
+Paul was not a little amused by his new
+companion, and would have laughed, but that
+he feared to offend him.
+
+"You'd better get some," said Mr. Benton.
+"I'll let you just try mine once, if you want to."
+
+"Thank you," said Paul; "I don't think I
+want to have a moustache just yet."
+
+"Well, perhaps you're right.  Being a boy,
+perhaps it wouldn't be advisable."
+
+"When does Mr. Smith come in?"
+
+"Not till nine."
+
+"And the other clerks?"
+
+"About eight o'clock.  I shan't come till
+eight, to-morrow morning."
+
+"There's one thing I should like to ask
+you," said Paul.  "Of course you won't answer
+unless you like."
+
+"Out with it."
+
+"How much does Mr. Smith pay you?"
+
+"Ahem!" said Benton, "what does he pay you?"
+
+"A dollar and a quarter a week."
+
+"He paid me a dollar and a half to begin with."
+
+"Did he?  He wanted me to come first at
+a dollar."
+
+"Just like him.  Didn't I tell you he was an
+out and outer?  He'll be sure to take you in if
+you will let him."
+
+"But," said Paul, anxiously, "he said he'd
+raise it in a month or two."
+
+"He won't offer to; you'll have to tease
+him.  And then how much'll he raise it?  Not
+more than a quarter.  How much do you think
+I get now?"
+
+"How long have you been here?"
+
+"A year and a half."
+
+"Five dollars a week," guessed Paul.
+
+"Five! he only gives me two and a half. 
+That is, he hasn't been paying me but that. 
+Now, of course, he'll raise, as I've been promoted."
+
+"How much do you expect to get now?"
+
+"Maybe four dollars, and I'm worth ten
+any day.  He's a mean old skinflint, Smith is."
+
+This glimpse at his own prospects did not
+tend to make Paul feel very comfortable.  He
+could not repress a sigh of disappointment
+when he thought of this mortifying termination
+of all his brilliant prospects.  He had
+long nourished the hope of being able to repay
+the good sexton for his outlay in his behalf,
+besides discharging the debt which his father
+had left behind him.  Now there seemed to be
+little prospect of either.  He had half a mind
+to resign his place immediately upon the entrance
+of Mr. Smith, but two considerations
+dissuaded him; one, that the sum which he
+was to receive, though small, would at least
+buy his clothes, and besides, he was not at
+all certain of obtaining another situation.
+
+With a sigh, therefore, he went about his duties.
+
+He had scarcely got the store ready when
+some of the clerks entered, and the business
+of the day commenced.  At nine Mr. Smith appeared.
+
+"So you're here, Peter," remarked he, as
+he caught sight of our hero.
+
+"Paul," corrected the owner of that name.
+
+"Well, well, Peter or Paul, don't make much
+difference.  Both were apostles, if I remember
+right.  All ready for work, eh?"
+
+"Yes, sir," said Paul, neither very briskly
+nor cheerfully.
+
+"Well," said Mr. Smith, after a pause, "I
+guess I'll put you into the calico department. 
+Williams, you may take him under your wing. 
+And now Peter,--all the same, Paul,--I've got
+a word or two to say to you, as I always do to
+every boy who comes into my store.  Don't
+forget what you're here for?  It's to sell goods. 
+Take care to sell something to every man,
+woman, and child, that comes in your way. 
+That's the way to do business.  Follow it up,
+and you'll be a rich man some day."
+
+"But suppose they don't want anything?"
+said Paul.
+
+"Make 'em want something," returned
+Smith, "Don't let 'em off without buying. 
+That's my motto.  However, you'll learn."
+
+Smith bustled off, and began in his nervous
+way to exercise a general supervision over all
+that was going on in the store.  He seemed to
+be all eyes.  While apparently entirely occupied
+in waiting upon a customer, he took notice of all
+the customers in the store, and could tell what
+they bought, and how much they paid.
+
+Paul listened attentively to the clerk under
+whom he was placed for instruction.
+
+"What's the price of this calico?" inquired
+a common-looking woman.
+
+"A shilling a yard, ma'am," (this was not
+in war times.)
+
+"It looks rather coarse."
+
+"Coarse, ma'am!  What can you be thinking of?
+It is a superfine piece of goods.  We sell more
+of it than of any other figure.  The mayor's wife
+was in here yesterday, and bought two dress patterns
+off of it."
+
+"Did she?" asked the woman, who appeared
+favorably impressed by this circumstance.
+
+"Yes, and she promised to send her friends
+here after some of it.  You'd better take it
+while you can get it."
+
+"Will it wash?"
+
+"To be sure it will."
+
+"Then I guess you may cut me off ten yards."
+
+This was quickly done, and the woman departed
+with her purchase.
+
+Five minutes later, another woman entered
+with a bundle of the same figured calico.
+
+Seeing her coming, Williams hastily slipped
+the remnant of the piece out of sight.
+
+"I got this calico here," said the newcomer,
+"one day last week.  You warranted it to wash,
+but I find it won't.  Here's a piece I've tried."
+
+She showed a pattern, which had a faded look.
+
+"You've come to the wrong store," said Williams,
+coolly.  "You must have got the calico somewhere else."
+
+"No, I'm sure I got it here.  I remember particularly
+buying it of you."
+
+"You've got a better memory than I have, then.
+We haven't got a piece of calico like that in the store."
+
+Paul listened to this assertion with unutterable surprise.
+
+"I am quite certain I bought it here," said the woman, perplexed.
+
+"Must have been the next store,--Blake & Hastings.
+Better go over there."
+
+The woman went out.
+
+"That's the way to do business," said Williams, winking at Paul.
+
+Paul said nothing, but he felt more than ever
+doubtful about retaining his place.
+
+
+
+XXII.
+
+MR. BENTON'S ADVENTURE.
+
+
+One evening, about a fortnight after his
+entrance into Smith & Thompson's employment,
+Paul was putting up the shutters, the business
+of the day being over.  It devolved upon him
+to open and close the store, and usually he was
+the last one to go home.
+
+This evening, however, Mr. Nicholas Benton
+graciously remained behind and assisted Paul
+in closing the store.  This was unusual, and
+surprised Paul a little.  It was soon explained,
+however.
+
+"Good-night, Nicholas,--I mean, Mr. Benton,"
+said Paul.
+
+"Not quite yet.  I want you to walk a little
+way with me this evening."
+
+Paul hesitated.
+
+"Come, no backing out.  I want to confide
+to you a very important secret."
+
+He looked so mysterious that Paul's
+curiosity was aroused, and reflecting that it was
+yet early, he took his companion's proffered
+arm, and sauntered along by his side.
+
+"What's the secret?" he asked at length,
+perceiving that Nicholas was silent.
+
+"Wait till we get to a more retired place."
+
+He turned out of Broadway into a side
+street, where the passers were less numerous.
+
+"I don't think you could guess," said the
+young man, turning towards our hero.
+
+"I don't think I could."
+
+"And yet," continued Benton, meditatively,
+"it is possible that you may have noticed
+something in my appearance just a little unusual,
+within the last week.  Haven't you, now?"
+
+Paul could not say that he had.
+
+Mr. Benton looked a little disappointed.
+
+"Nobody can tell what has been the state
+of my feelings," he resumed after a pause.
+
+"You ain't sick?" questioned Paul, hastily.
+
+"Nothing of the sort, only my appetite has
+been a good deal affected.  I don't think I
+have eaten as much in a week as you would in
+a day," he added, complacently.
+
+"If I felt that way I should think I was
+going to be sick," said Paul.
+
+"I'll let you into the secret," said Mr. Benton,
+lowering his voice, and looking carefully
+about him, to make sure that no one was
+within hearing distance--"I'M IN LOVE."
+
+This seemed so utterly ludicrous to Paul,
+that he came very near losing Mr. Benton's
+friendship forever by bursting into a hearty laugh.
+
+"I didn't think of that," he said.
+
+"It's taken away my appetite, and I haven't
+been able to sleep nights," continued Mr. Benton,
+in a cheerful tone.  "I feel just as Howard
+Courtenay did in the great story that's
+coming out in the Weekly Budget.  You've
+read it, haven't you?"
+
+"I don't think I have," said Paul.
+
+"Then you ought to.  It's tiptop.  It's rather
+curious too that the lady looks just as Miranda
+does, in the same story."
+
+"How is that?"
+
+"Wait a minute, and I'll read the description."
+
+Mr. Benton pulled a paper from his pocket,
+--the last copy of the Weekly Budget,--and
+by the light of a street lamp read the following
+extract to his amused auditor.
+
+"Miranda was just eighteen.  Her form was
+queenly and majestic.  Tall and stately, she
+moved among her handmaidens with a dignity
+which revealed her superior rank.  Her eyes
+were dark as night.  Her luxuriant tresses,--
+there, the rest is torn off," said Mr. Benton,
+in a tone of vexation.
+
+"She is tall, then?" said Paul.
+
+"Yes, just like Miranda."
+
+"Then," said our hero, in some hesitation,
+"I should think she would not be very well
+suited to you."
+
+"Why not?" asked Mr. Benton, quickly.
+
+"Because," said Paul, "you're rather short,
+you know."
+
+"I'm about the medium height," said Mr.
+Benton, raising himself upon his toes as he
+spoke.
+
+"Not quite," said Paul, trying not to laugh.
+
+"I'm as tall as Mr. Smith," resumed Mr.
+Benton, in a tone which warned Paul that this
+was a forbidden subject.  "But you don't ask
+me who she is."
+
+"I didn't know as you would be willing to tell."
+
+"I shan't tell any one but you.  It's Miss
+Hawkins,--firm of Hawkins & Brewer.  That
+is, her father belongs to the firm, not she.  And
+Paul," here he clutched our hero's arm convulsively,
+"I've made a declaration of my love, and--and----"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"She has answered my letter."
+
+"Has she?" asked Paul with some curiosity,
+"What did she say?"
+
+"She has written me to be under her window
+this evening."
+
+"Why under her window? why didn't she
+write you to call?"
+
+"Probably she will, but it's more romantic
+to say, `be under my window.'"
+
+"Well, perhaps it is; only you know I don't
+know much about such things."
+
+"Of course not, Paul," said Mr. Benton;
+"you're only a boy, you know."
+
+"Are you going to be under her window,
+Nich,--I mean Mr. Benton?"
+
+"Of course.  Do you think I would miss the
+appointment?  No earthly power could prevent
+my doing it."
+
+"Then I had better leave you," said Paul,
+making a movement to go.
+
+"No, I want you to accompany me as far as
+the door.  I feel--a little agitated.  I suppose
+everybody does when they are in love," added
+Mr. Benton, complacently.
+
+"Well," said Paul, "I will see you to the
+door, but I can't stay, for they will wonder at
+home what has become of me."
+
+"All right."
+
+"Are we anywhere near the house?"
+
+"Yes, it's only in the next street," said Mr.
+Benton, "O, Paul, how my heart beats!  You
+can't imagine how I feel!"
+
+Mr. Benton gasped for breath, and looked as
+if he had swallowed a fish bone, which he had
+some difficulty in getting down.
+
+"You'll know how to understand my feelings
+sometime, Paul," said Mr. Benton;
+"when your time comes, I will remember your
+service of to-night, and I will stand by you."
+
+Paul inwardly hoped that he should never
+fall in love, if it was likely to affect him in
+the same way as his companion, but he thought
+it best not to say so.
+
+By this time they had come in sight of a
+three-story brick house, with Benjamin Hawkins
+on the door-plate.
+
+"That's the house," said Mr. Benton, in an
+agitated whisper.
+
+"Is it?"
+
+"Yes, and that window on the left-hand side
+is the window of her chamber."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"She told me in the letter."
+
+"And where are you to stand?"
+
+"Just underneath, as the clock strikes nine. 
+It must be about the time."
+
+At that moment the city clock struck nine.
+
+Mr. Benton left Paul, and crossing the
+street, took up his position beneath the window
+of his charmer, beginning to sing, in a
+thin, piping voice, as preconcerted between them--
+          "Ever of thee,
+            I'm fo-o-ondly dreaming."
+
+
+
+The song was destined never to be finished.
+
+From his post in a doorway opposite, Paul
+saw the window softly open.  He could
+distinguish a tall female figure, doubtless Miss
+Hawkins herself.  She held in her hand a
+pitcher of water, which she emptied with well-
+directed aim full upon the small person of her
+luckless admirer.
+
+The falling column struck upon his beaver,
+thence spreading on all sides.  His carefully
+starched collar became instantly as limp as
+a rag, while his coat suffered severely from
+the shower.
+
+His tuneful accents died away in dismay.
+
+"Ow!" he exclaimed, jumping at least a
+yard, and involuntarily shaking himself like a
+dog, "who did that?"
+
+There was no answer save a low, musical
+laugh from the window above, which was
+involuntarily echoed by Paul.
+
+"What do you mean by laughing at me?"
+demanded Mr. Benton, smarting with mortification,
+as he strode across the street, trying
+to dry his hat with the help of his handkerchief,
+"Is this what you call friendship?"
+
+"Excuse me," gasped Paul, "but I really
+couldn't help it."
+
+"I don't see anything to laugh at,"
+continued Mr. Benton, in a resentful tone;
+"because I have been subjected to unmanly
+persecution, you must laugh at me, instead of
+extending to me the sympathy of a friend."
+
+"I suppose you won't think of her any
+more," said Paul, recovering himself.
+
+"Think of her!" exclaimed Mr. Benton,
+"would you have me tear her from my heart,
+because her mercenary parent chooses to frown
+upon our love, and follow me with base persecution."
+
+"Her parent!"
+
+"Yes, it was he who threw the water upon
+me.  But it shall not avail," the young man
+continued, folding his arms, and speaking in a
+tone of resolution, "bolts and bars shall not
+keep two loving hearts asunder."
+
+"But it wasn't her father," urged Paul,
+perceiving that Mr. Benton was under a mistake.
+
+"Who was it, then?"
+
+"It was the young lady herself."
+
+"Who threw the water upon me?  It is a
+base slander."
+
+"But I saw her."
+
+"Saw who?"
+
+"A tall young lady with black hair."
+
+"And was it she who threw the water?"
+asked Mr. Benton, aghast at this unexpected
+revelation.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then she did it at the command of her
+proud parent."
+
+Paul did not dispute this, since it seemed
+to comfort Mr. Benton.  It is doubtful, however,
+whether the young man believed it himself,
+since he straightway fell into a fit of
+gloomy abstraction, and made no response
+when Paul bade him "good-night."
+
+
+
+
+XXIII.
+
+PAUL LOSES HIS SITUATION AND GAINS A FRIEND.
+
+
+Paul had a presentiment that he should not
+long remain in the employ of Smith & Thompson;
+it was not many weeks before this presentiment
+was verified.
+
+After having received such instruction as
+was necessary, the calico department was left
+in Paul's charge.  One day a customer in turning
+over the patterns shown her took up a piece
+which Paul knew from complaints made by
+purchasers would not wash.
+
+"This is pretty," said she, "it is just what
+I have been looking for.  You may cut me off
+twelve yards."
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"Wait a minute, though," interposed the
+lady, "will it wash?"
+
+"I don't think it will," said Paul, frankly,
+"there have been some complaints made about that."
+
+"Then I shall not want it.  Let me see what
+else you have got."
+
+The customer finally departed, having found
+nothing to suit her.
+
+No sooner had she left the store than Mr.
+Smith called Paul.
+
+"Well, did you sell that lady anything?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"And why not?" demanded Smith, harshly.
+
+"Because she did not like any of the pieces."
+
+"Wouldn't she have ordered a dress pattern
+if you had not told her the calico would not
+wash?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I suppose so," said Paul, preparing
+for a storm.
+
+"Then why did you tell her?" demanded his
+employer, angrily.
+
+"Because she asked me."
+
+"Couldn't you have told her that it would wash?"
+
+"That would not have been the truth," said Paul, sturdily.
+
+"You're a mighty conscientious young man," sneered Smith,
+"You're altogether too pious to succeed in business.
+I discharge you from my employment."
+
+"Very well, sir," said Paul, his heart sinking,
+but keeping up a brave exterior, "then I
+have only to bid you good-morning."
+
+"Good-morning, sir," said his employer with
+mock deference, "I advise you to study for the
+ministry, and no longer waste your talents in
+selling calico."
+
+Paul made no reply, but putting on his cap
+walked out of the store.  It was the middle of
+the week, and Mr. Smith was, of course, owing
+him a small sum for his services; but Paul was
+too proud to ask for his money, which that
+gentleman did not see fit to volunteer.
+
+"I am sure I have done right," thought
+Paul.  "I had no right to misrepresent the
+goods to that lady.  I wonder what Uncle
+Hugh will say."
+
+"You did perfectly right," said the sexton,
+after Paul had related the circumstances of
+his dismissal.  "I wouldn't have had you act
+differently for twenty situations.  I have no
+doubt you will get a better position elsewhere."
+
+"I hope so," said Paul.  "Now that I have
+lost the situation, Uncle Hugh, I don't mind
+saying that I never liked it."
+
+Now commenced a search for another place. 
+Day after day Paul went out, and day after
+day he returned with the same want of success.
+
+"Never mind, Paul," said the sexton
+encouragingly.  "When you do succeed, perhaps
+you'll get something worth waiting for."
+
+One morning Paul went out feeling that
+something was going to happen,--he didn't
+exactly know what,--but he felt somehow that
+there was to be a change in his luck.  He went
+out, therefore, with more hopefulness than
+usual; yet, when four o'clock came, and nothing
+had occurred except failure and disappointment,
+which unhappily were not at all out of
+the ordinary course, Paul began to think that
+he was very foolish to have expected anything.
+
+He was walking listlessly along a narrow
+street, when, on a sudden, he heard an exclamation
+of terror, of which, on turning round,
+he easily discovered the cause.
+
+Two spirited horses, attached to an elegant
+carriage, had been terrified in some way, and
+were now running at the top of their speed.
+
+There was no coachman on the box; he had
+dismounted in order to ring at some door,
+when the horses started.  He was now doing
+his best to overtake the horses, but in a race
+between man and horse, it is easy to predict
+which will have the advantage.
+
+There seemed to be but one person in the
+carriage.  It was a lady,--whose face, pale
+with terror, could be seen from the carriage
+window.  Her loud cries of alarm no doubt
+terrified the horses still more, and, by accelerating
+their speed, tended to make matters worse.
+
+Paul was roused from a train of despondent
+reflections by seeing the horses coming up the
+street.  He instantly comprehended the whole
+danger of the lady's situation.
+
+Most boys would have thought of nothing
+but getting out of the way, and leaving the
+carriage and its inmate to their fate.  What,
+indeed, could a boy do against a pair of powerful
+horses, almost beside themselves with fright?"
+
+But our hero, as we have already had
+occasion to see, was brave and self-possessed, and
+felt an instant desire to rescue the lady, whose
+glance of helpless terror, as she leaned her
+head from the window, he could see.  Naturally
+quickwitted, it flashed upon him that
+the only way to relieve a horse from one terror,
+was to bring another to bear upon him.
+
+With scarcely a moment's premeditation, he
+rushed out into the middle of the street, full
+in the path of the furious horses, and with
+his cheeks pale, for he knew his danger, but
+with determined air, he waved his arms aloft,
+and cried "Whoa!" at the top of his voice.
+
+The horses saw the sudden movement.  They saw
+the boy standing directly in front of them. 
+They heard the word of command to which
+they had been used, and by a sudden impulse,
+relieved from the blind terror which had urged
+them on, they stopped suddenly, and stood still
+in the middle of the street, still showing in
+their quivering limbs the agitation through
+which they had passed.
+
+Just then the coachman, panting with his hurried running,
+came up and seized them by the head.
+
+"Youngster," said he, "you're a brave fellow.
+You've done us a good service to-day. 
+You're a pretty cool hand, you are.  I don't
+know what these foolish horses would have done
+with the carriage if it had not been for you."
+
+"Let me get out," exclaimed the lady,
+not yet recovered from her fright.
+
+"I will open the door," said Paul, observing
+that the coachman was fully occupied in soothing
+the horses.
+
+He sprang forward, and opening the door of
+the carriage assisted the lady to descend.
+
+She breathed quickly.
+
+"I have been very much frightened," she said;
+"and I believe I have been in very great danger.
+Are you the brave boy who stopped the horses?"
+
+Paul modestly answered in the affirmative.
+
+"And how did you do it?  I was so terrified
+that I was hardly conscious of what was passing,
+till the horses stopped.
+
+Paul modestly related his agency in the matter.
+
+The lady gazed at his flushed face admiringly.
+
+"How could you have so much courage?"
+she asked.  "You might have been trampled
+to death under the hoofs of the horses."
+
+"I didn't think of that.  I only thought of
+stopping the horses."
+
+"You are a brave boy.  I shudder when I
+think of your danger and mine.  I shall not
+dare to get into the carriage again this afternoon."
+
+"Allow me to accompany you home?" said Paul, politely.
+
+"Thank you; I will trouble you to go with me as far
+as Broadway, and then I can get into an omnibus."
+
+She turned and addressed some words to the
+coachman, directing him to drive home as soon
+as the horses were quieted, adding that she
+would trust herself to the escort of the young
+hero, who had rescued her from the late peril.
+
+"You're a lucky boy," thought John, the
+coachman.  "My mistress is one that never
+does anything by halves.  It won't be for nothing
+that you have rescued her this afternoon."
+
+As they walked along, the lady, by delicate
+questioning, succeeded in drawing from our
+hero his hopes and wishes for the future.  Paul,
+who was of a frank and open nature, found
+it very natural to tell her all he felt and wished.
+
+"He seems a remarkably fine boy," thought
+the lady to herself.  "I should like to do
+something for him."
+
+They emerged into Broadway.
+
+"I will detain you a little longer," said the lady;
+"and perhaps trouble you with a parcel."
+
+"I shall be very glad to take it," said Paul politely.
+
+Appleton's bookstore was close at hand. 
+Into this the lady went, followed by her young
+companion.
+
+A clerk advanced, and inquired her wishes.
+
+"Will you show me some writing-desks?"
+
+"I am going to purchase a writing-desk for
+a young friend of mine," she explained to Paul;
+"as he is a boy, like yourself, perhaps
+you can guide me in the selection."
+
+"Certainly," said Paul, unsuspiciously.
+
+Several desks were shown.  Paul expressed
+himself admiringly of one made of rosewood
+inlaid with pearl.
+
+"I think I will take it," said the lady.
+
+The price was paid, and the desk was wrapped up.
+
+"Now," said Mrs. Danforth, for this proved
+to be her name, "I will trouble you, Paul, to
+take the desk for me, and accompany me in the
+omnibus, that is, if you have no other occupation
+for your time."
+
+"I am quite at leisure," said Paul.  "I shall
+be most happy to do so."
+
+Paul left the lady at the door of her residence
+in Fifth Avenue, and promised to call
+on his new friend the next day.
+
+He went home feeling that, though he had
+met with no success in obtaining a place, he
+had been very fortunate in rendering so important
+a service to a lady whose friendship
+might be of essential service to him.
+
+
+
+XXIV.
+
+PAUL CALLS ON MRS. DANFORTH.
+
+
+"Mrs. Edward Danforth," repeated the sexton,
+on hearing the story of Paul's exploit.
+
+"Why, she attends our church."
+
+"Do you know Mr. Danforth?" asked Paul,
+with interest.
+
+"Only by sight.  I know him by reputation, however."
+
+"I suppose he is very rich."
+
+"Yes, I should judge so.  At any rate, he is
+doing an extensive business."
+
+"What is his business?"
+
+"He is a merchant."
+
+"A merchant," thought Paul; "that is just
+what I should like to be, but I don't see much
+prospect of it."
+
+"How do you like Mrs. Danforth?" inquired the sexton.
+
+"Very much," said Paul, warmly.  "She was very kind,
+and made me feel quite at home in her company."
+
+"I hope she may be disposed to assist you. 
+She can easily do so, in her position."
+
+The next day Paul did not as usual go out
+in search of a situation.  His mind was occupied
+with thoughts of his coming interview with
+Mrs. Danforth, and he thought he would defer
+his business plans till the succeeding day.
+
+At an early hour in the evening, he paused
+before an imposing residence on Fifth Avenue,
+which he had seen but not entered the day previous.
+
+He mounted the steps and pulled the bell.
+
+A smart-looking man-servant answered his ring.
+
+"Is Mrs. Danforth at home?" asked Paul.
+
+"Yes, I believe so."
+
+"I have called to see her."
+
+"Does she expect you?" asked the servant,
+looking surprised.
+
+"Yes; I come at her appointment," said Paul.
+
+"Then I suppose it's all right," said the man.
+"Will you come in?" he asked, a little doubtfully.
+
+Paul followed him into the house, and was
+shown into the drawing-room, the magnificence
+of which somewhat dazzled his eyes; accustomed
+only to the plain sitting-room of Mr. Cameron.
+
+The servant reappeared after a brief
+absence, and with rather more politeness than he
+had before shown, invited Paul to follow him
+to a private sitting-room upstairs, where he
+would see Mrs. Danforth.
+
+Looking at Paul's plain, though neat clothes,
+the servant was a little puzzled to understand
+what had obtained for Paul the honor of being
+on visiting terms with Mrs. Danforth.
+
+"Good evening, Paul," said Mrs. Danforth,
+rising from her seat and welcoming our hero
+with extended hand.  "So you did not forget
+your appointment."
+
+"There was no fear of that," said Paul, with
+his usual frankness.  "I have been looking forward
+to coming all day."
+
+"Have you, indeed?" said the lady with a
+pleasant smile.
+
+"Then I must endeavor to make your visit
+agreeable to you.  Do you recognize this desk?"
+
+Upon a table close by, was the desk which
+had been purchased the day previous, at Appleton's.
+
+"Yes," said Paul, "it is the one you bought yesterday.
+I think it is very handsome."
+
+"I am glad you think so.  I think I told
+you that I intended it for a present.  I have
+had the new owner's name engraved upon it."
+
+Paul read the name upon the plate provided
+for the purpose.  His face flushed with
+surprise and pleasure.  That name was his own.
+
+"Do you really mean it for me" he asked.
+
+"If you will accept it," said Mrs. Danforth, smiling.
+
+"I shall value it very much," said Paul, gratefully.
+"And I feel very much indebted to your kindness."
+
+"We won't talk of indebtedness, for you remember
+mine is much the greater.  If you will open the desk
+you will find that it is furnished with what will,
+I hope, prove of use to you."
+
+The desk being opened, proved to contain a liberal
+supply of stationery, sealing wax, postage stamps, and pens.
+
+Paul was delighted with his new present,
+and Mrs. Danforth seemed to enjoy the
+evident gratification with which it inspired him.
+
+"Now," said she, "tell me a little about
+yourself.  Have you always lived in New York?"
+
+"Only about three years," said Paul.
+
+"And where did you live before?"
+
+"At Wrenville, in Connecticut."
+
+"I have heard of the place.  A small country town, is it not?"
+
+Paul answered in the affirmative.
+
+"How did you happen to leave Wrenville,
+and come to New York?"
+
+Paul blushed, and hesitated a moment.
+
+"I ran away," he said at length, determined
+to keep nothing back.
+
+"Ran away!  Not from home, I hope."
+
+"I had no home," said Paul, soberly.  "I
+should never have left there, if my father had
+not died.  Then I was thrown upon the world. 
+I was sent to the Poorhouse.  I did not want to go,
+for I thought I could support myself."
+
+"That is a very honorable feeling.  I suppose
+you did not fare very well at the Poorhouse."
+
+In reply, Paul detailed some of the grievances
+to which he had been subjected.  Mrs.
+Danforth listened with sympathizing attention.
+
+"You were entirely justified in running away,"
+she said, as he concluded.  "I can hardly imagine
+so great a lack of humanity as these people showed.
+You are now, I hope, pleasantly situated?"
+
+"Yes," said Paul, "Mr. and Mrs. Cameron
+treat me with as great kindness as if I were
+their own child."
+
+"Cameron!  Is not that the name of the
+sexton of our church?" said Mrs. Danforth,
+meditatively.
+
+"It is with him that I have a pleasant home."
+
+"Indeed, I am glad to hear it.  You have
+been attending school, I suppose."
+
+"Yes, it is not more than two months since
+I left off school."
+
+"And now I suppose you are thinking of
+entering upon some business."
+
+"Yes; I have been trying to obtain a place
+in some merchant's counting-room."
+
+"You think, then, that you would like the
+career of a merchant?"
+
+"There is nothing that would suit me better."
+
+"You have not succeeded in obtaining a
+place yet, I suppose?"
+
+"No.  They are very difficult to get, and I
+have no influential friends to assist me."
+
+"I have heard Mr. Danforth say that he
+experienced equal difficulty when he came to
+New York, a poor boy."
+
+Paul looked surprised.
+
+"I see that you are surprised," said Mrs.
+Danforth, smiling.  "You think, perhaps, judging
+from what you see, that my husband was
+always rich.  But he was the son of a poor
+farmer, and was obliged to make his own way
+in the world.  By the blessing of God, he has
+been prospered in business and become rich. 
+But he often speaks of his early discouragements
+and small beginnings.  I am sorry he
+is not here this evening.  By the way, he left
+word for you to call at his counting-room to-
+morrow, at eleven o'clock.  I will give you his
+address."
+
+She handed Paul a card containing the
+specified number, and soon after he withdrew,
+bearing with him his handsome gift, and
+a cordial invitation to repeat his call.
+
+He looked back at the elegant mansion
+which he had just left, and could not help feeling
+surprised that the owner of such a palace,
+should have started in life with no greater
+advantages than himself.
+
+
+
+XXV.
+
+AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.
+
+
+Paul slept late the next morning.  He did
+not hear the breakfast-bell, and when the sexton
+came up to awaken him he rubbed his eyes
+with such an expression of bewilderment that
+Mr. Cameron could not forbear laughing.
+
+"You must have had queer dreams, Paul,"
+said he.
+
+"Yes, Uncle Hugh," said Paul, laughing, "I
+believe I have."
+
+"When you have collected your wits, which
+at present seem absent on a wool-gathering
+expedition, perhaps you will tell what you have
+been dreaming about."
+
+"So I will," said Paul, "and perhaps you
+can interpret it for me.  I dreamed that I was
+back again at Mr. Mudge's, and that he sent me
+out into the field to dig potatoes.  I worked
+away at the first hill, but found no potatoes. 
+In place of them were several gold pieces.  I
+picked them up in great surprise, and instead
+of putting them into the basket, concluded to
+put them in my pocket.  But as all the hills
+turned out in the same way I got my pockets
+full, and had to put the rest in the basket.  I
+was just wondering what they would do for
+potatoes, when all at once a great dog came up
+and seized me by the arm----"
+
+"And you opened your eyes and saw me,"
+said the sexton, finishing out his narrative.
+
+"Upon my word, that's very complimentary
+to me.  However, some of our potatoes have
+escaped transformation into gold pieces, but I
+am afraid you will find them rather cold if you
+don't get down to breakfast pretty quick."
+
+"All right, Uncle Hugh.  I'll be down in a jiffy."
+
+About half-past ten Paul started on his way
+to Mr. Danforth's counting-room.  It was located
+on Wall Street, as he learned from the
+card which had been given him by Mrs. Danforth. 
+He felt a little awkward in making this
+call.  It seemed as if he were going to receive
+thanks for the service which he had rendered,
+and he felt that he had already been abundantly
+repaid.  However, he was bound in courtesy to call,
+since he did so at the request of Mrs. Danforth.
+
+It was a large stone building, divided up
+into offices, to which Paul had been directed. 
+Mr. Danforth's office he found after a little
+search, upon the second floor.
+
+He opened the door with a little
+embarrassment, and looked about him.
+
+In one corner was a small room, used as a
+more private office, the door of which was
+closed.  In the larger room the only one whom
+he saw, was a boy, apparently about his own
+age, who was standing at a desk and writing.
+
+This boy looked around as Paul entered, and
+he at once recognized in him an old acquaintance.
+
+"George Dawkins!" he exclaimed in surprise.
+
+The latter answered in a careless indifferent
+tone, not exhibiting any very decided pleasure
+at meeting his old schoolmate.
+
+"Oh, it's you, Prescott, is it?"
+
+"Yes," said Paul, "I haven't met you since
+you left our school."
+
+"No, I believe we have not met," said Dawkins,
+in the same tone as before.
+
+"How long have you been in this office?"
+asked our hero.
+
+"I really can't say," said Dawkins, not
+looking up.
+
+"You can't say!"
+
+"No, I'm rather forgetful."
+
+Paul could not help feeling chilled at the
+indifferent manner in which his advances were
+met.  He had been really glad to see Dawkins,
+and had addressed him with cordiality.  He
+could not conceal from himself that Dawkins
+did not seem inclined to respond to it.
+
+"Still," thought Paul, extenuatingly,
+"perhaps that is his way."
+
+As the conversation began to flag, Paul was
+reminded of his errand by Dawkins saying, in
+a tone which was half a sneer, "Have you any
+business with Mr. Danforth this morning, or
+did you merely come in out of curiosity?"
+
+"I have called to see Mr. Danforth," said Paul.
+
+"He is usually pretty busy in the morning,"
+said Dawkins.
+
+"He directed me to call in the morning,"
+said Paul, sturdily.
+
+"Oh, indeed!" said Dawkins, a little
+surprised.  "I wonder," he thought, "what
+business this fellow can have with Mr. Danforth. 
+Can he be fishing for a place?"
+
+"Mr. Danforth is engaged with a visitor
+just now," he at length condescended to say;
+"if your time is not too valuable to wait, you
+can see him by-and-by."
+
+"Thank you," said Paul, rather nettled,
+"you are very polite."
+
+To this Dawkins made no reply, but resumed
+his pen, and for the next ten minutes seemed
+entirely oblivious of Paul's presence.
+
+Our hero took up the morning paper, and
+began, as he had so often done before, to look
+over the list of wants, thinking it possible he
+might find some opening for himself.
+
+About ten minutes later the door of the
+inner office opened, and two gentlemen came
+out.  One was a gentleman of fifty, a business
+friend of Mr. Danforth's, the other was Mr.
+Danforth himself.
+
+The former remarked, on seeing Paul, "Is
+this your son, Danforth?"
+
+"No," said the merchant, nodding in a
+friendly manner to Paul.
+
+"That's a good joke," thought Dawkins,
+chuckling to himself; "Mr. Danforth must
+be immensely flattered at having a sexton's
+adopted son taken for his."
+
+After a final word or two on business
+matters, and arrangements for another interview,
+the visitor departed, and Mr. Danforth, now
+at leisure, turned to Paul.
+
+"Now my lad," he said kindly, "if you will
+follow me, we shall have a chance to talk a little."
+
+Paul followed the merchant into his office,
+the door of which was closed, much to the regret
+of Dawkins, who had a tolerably large
+share of curiosity, and was very anxious to
+find out what business Paul could possibly
+have with his employer.
+
+"Take that seat, if you please;" said Mr.
+Danforth, motioning Paul to an arm-chair, and
+sitting down himself, "Mrs. Danforth told me
+from how great a peril you rescued her.  You
+are a brave boy."
+
+"I don't know," said Paul, modestly, "I
+didn't think of the danger.  If I had, perhaps
+I should have hesitated."
+
+"If you had not been brave you would have
+thought of your own risk.  My wife and myself
+are under very great obligations to you."
+
+"That more than repays me for all I did,"
+said Paul, in a tone of mingled modesty and
+manliness.
+
+"I like the boy," thought Mr. Danforth;
+"he is certainly quite superior to the common run."
+
+"Have you left school?" he inquired, after a pause.
+
+"Yes, sir.  Last term closed my school life."
+
+"Then you have never been in a situation."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Indeed!  Before you left school?"
+
+"No, sir, since."
+
+"You did not like it, then?"
+
+"No, sir," said Paul.
+
+"And was that the reason of your leaving?"
+
+"No, sir; my employer was not satisfied with me,"
+said Paul, frankly.
+
+"Indeed!  I am surprised to hear this!
+If you have no objection, will you tell me
+the circumstances?"
+
+Paul related in a straightforward manner
+the difficulty he had had with Smith & Thompson.
+
+"I hope you don't think I did wrong," he concluded.
+
+"By no means," said Mr. Danforth, warmly.
+"Your conduct was entirely creditable.
+As for Smith, I know of him.  He is a sharper.
+It would have done you no good to remain in his employ."
+
+Paul was pleased with this commendation. 
+He had thought it possible that his dismissal
+from his former situation might operate
+against him with the merchant.
+
+"What are your present plans and wishes?"
+asked Mr. Danforth, after a slight pause.
+
+"I should like to enter a merchant's counting-room,"
+said Paul, "but as such places are hard to get,
+I think I shall try to get into a store."
+
+Mr. Danforth reflected a moment, then
+placing a piece of paper before our hero, he
+said, "Will you write your name and address
+on this piece of paper, that I may know where
+to find you, in case I hear of a place?"
+
+Paul did as directed.  He had an excellent handwriting,
+a point on which the merchant set a high value.
+
+The latter surveyed the address with
+approval, and said, "I am glad you write so
+excellent a hand.  It will be of material
+assistance to you in securing a place in a counting-
+room.  Indeed, it has been already, for I have
+just thought of a place which I can obtain for you."
+
+"Can you, sir?" said Paul, eagerly.
+
+"Where is it?"
+
+"In my own counting-room," said Mr.
+Danforth, smiling.
+
+"I am very much obliged to you," said Paul,
+hardly believing his ears.
+
+"I was prepared to give it to you when you
+came in, in case I found you qualified.  The
+superiority of your handwriting decides me. 
+When can you come?"
+
+"To-morrow, if you like, sir."
+
+"I like your promptness.  As it is the middle
+of the week, however, you may take a vacation
+till Monday.  Your salary will begin to-morrow."
+
+"Thank you, sir."
+
+"I will give you five dollars per week at
+first, and more as your services become more
+valuable.  Will that be satisfactory?"
+
+"I shall feel rich, sir.  Mr. Smith only gave
+me a dollar and a quarter."
+
+"I hope you will find other differences between
+me and Mr. Smith," said the merchant, smiling.
+
+These preliminaries over, Mr. Danforth
+opened the door, and glancing at Dawkins,
+said, "Dawkins, I wish you to become
+acquainted with your fellow clerk, Paul Prescott."
+
+Dawkins looked surprised, and anything but
+gratified as he responded stiffly, "I have the
+honor of being already acquainted with Mr. Prescott."
+
+"He is a little jealous of an interloper,"
+thought Mr. Danforth, noticing the repellent
+manner of young Dawkins.  "Never mind,
+they will get acquainted after awhile."
+
+When George Dawkins went home to dinner,
+his father observed the dissatisfied look he wore.
+
+"Is anything amiss, my son?" he inquired.
+
+"I should think there was," grumbled his son.
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"We've got a new clerk, and who do you think it is?"
+
+"Who is it?"
+
+"The adopted son of old Cameron, the sexton."
+
+"Indeed," said Mrs. Dawkins.  "I really
+wonder at Mr. Danforth's bad taste.  There are
+many boys of genteel family, who would have
+been glad of the chance.  This boy is a low
+fellow of course."
+
+"Certainly," said her son, though he was
+quite aware that this was not true.
+
+"What could have brought the boy to Danforth's
+notice?" asked Dawkins, senior.
+
+"I don't know, I'm sure.  The boy has
+managed to get round him in some way.  He is
+very artful."
+
+"I really think, husband, that you ought to
+remonstrate with Mr. Danforth about taking
+such a low fellow into his counting-room with
+our George."
+
+"Pooh!" said Mr. Dawkins, who was a
+shade more sensible than his wife, "he'd think
+me a meddler."
+
+"At any rate, George," pursued his mother,
+"there's one thing that is due to your family
+and bringing up,--not to associate with this
+low fellow any more than business requires."
+
+"I certainly shall not," said George, promptly.
+
+He was the worthy son of such a mother.
+
+
+
+XXVI.
+
+A VULGAR RELATION.
+
+
+At the end of the first week, Paul received
+five dollars, the sum which the merchant had
+agreed to pay him for his services.  With this
+he felt very rich.  He hurried home, and
+displayed to the sexton the crisp bank note which
+had been given him.
+
+"You will soon be a rich man, Paul," said Mr. Cameron,
+with a benevolent smile, returning the bill.
+
+"But I want you to keep it, Uncle Hugh."
+
+"Shall I put it in the Savings Bank, for you, Paul?"
+
+"I didn't mean that.  You have been
+supporting me--giving me board and clothes--for
+three years.  It is only right that you should
+have what I earn."
+
+"The offer is an honorable one on your part,
+Paul," said the sexton; "but I don't need it. 
+If it will please you, I will take two dollars
+a week for your board, now, and out of the
+balance you may clothe yourself, and save
+what you can."
+
+This arrangement seemed to be a fair one. 
+Mr. Cameron deposited the five dollar note in
+his pocket-book, and passed one of three
+dollars to Paul.  This sum our hero deposited the
+next Monday morning, in a savings bank.  He
+estimated that he could clothe himself
+comfortably for fifty dollars a year.  This would
+leave him one hundred towards the payment
+of the debt due to Squire Conant.
+
+"By-and-by my salary will be raised,"
+thought Paul.  "Then I can save more."
+
+He looked forward with eager anticipation
+to the time when he should be able to redeem
+his father's name, and no one would be entitled
+to cast reproach upon his memory.
+
+He endeavored to perform his duties
+faithfully in the office, and to learn as rapidly as he
+could the business upon which he had entered. 
+He soon found that he must depend mainly
+upon himself.  George Dawkins seemed disposed
+to afford him no assistance, but repelled
+scornfully the advances which Paul made towards
+cordiality.  He was by no means as
+faithful as Paul, but whenever Mr. Danforth
+was absent from the office, spent his time in
+lounging at the window, or reading a cheap
+novel, with one of which he was usually provided.
+
+When Paul became satisfied that Dawkins
+was not inclined to accept his overtures, he
+ceased to court his acquaintance, and confined
+himself to his own desk.
+
+One day as he was returning from dinner, he
+was startled by an unceremonious slap upon
+the shoulder.
+
+Looking up in some surprise, he found that
+this greeting had come from a man just behind
+him, whose good-humored face and small,
+twinkling eyes, he at once recognized.
+
+"How do you do, Mr. Stubbs?" inquired
+Paul, his face lighting up with pleasure.
+
+"I'm so's to be round.  How be you?"
+returned the worthy pedler, seizing our hero's
+hand and shaking it heartily.
+
+Mr. Stubbs was attired in all the glory of a
+blue coat with brass buttons and swallow tails.
+
+"When did you come to New York?" asked Paul.
+
+"Just arrived; that is, I got in this mornin'. 
+But I say, how you've grown.  I shouldn't
+hardly have known you."
+
+"Shouldn't you, though?" said Paul, gratified as
+most boys are, on being told that he had grown.
+"Have you come to the city on business?"
+
+"Well, kinder on business, and kinder not. 
+I thought I'd like to have a vacation.  Besides,
+the old lady wanted a silk dress, and she was
+sot on havin' it bought in York.  So I come to
+the city."
+
+"Where are you stopping, Mr. Stubbs?"
+
+"Over to the Astor House.  Pretty big hotel, ain't it?"
+
+"Yes, I see you are traveling in style."
+
+"Yes, I suppose they charge considerable,
+but I guess I can stand it.  I hain't been
+drivin' a tin-cart for nothin' the last ten years.
+
+"How have you been enjoying yourself since you arrived?"
+
+"Oh, pretty well.  I've been round seeing
+the lions, and came pretty near seeing the
+elephant at one of them Peter Funk places."
+
+"You did!  Tell me about it."
+
+"You see I was walkin' along when a fellow
+came out of one of them places, and asked me
+if I wouldn't go in.  I didn't want to refuse
+such a polite invitation, and besides I had a
+curiosity to see what there was to be seen, so
+I went in.  They put up a silver watch, I could
+see that it was a good one, and so I bid on it. 
+It ran up to eight dollars and a quarter.  I
+thought it was a pity it should go off so cheap,
+so I bid eight and a half."
+
+"`Eight and a half and sold,' said the man;
+`shall I put it up for you?"
+
+"`No, I thank you,' said I, `I'll take it as it is.'
+
+"`But I'll put it up in a nice box for you,' said he.
+
+"I told him I didn't care for the box.  He
+seemed very unwilling to let it go, but I took
+it out of his hand and he couldn't help himself. 
+Well, when they made out the bill, what do
+you suppose they charged?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Why, eighteen and a half."
+
+"`Look here,' said I, `I guess here's something
+of a mistake.  You've got ten dollars too much.'
+
+"`I think you must be mistaken,' said he,
+smiling a foxy smile.
+
+"`You know I am not,' said I, rather cross.
+
+"We can't let that watch go for any thing shorter,'
+said he, coolly.
+
+"Just then a man that was present stepped up and said,
+`the man is right; don't attempt to impose upon him.'
+
+"With that he calmed right down.  It seems
+it was a policeman who was sent to watch
+them, that spoke.  So I paid the money, but as
+I went out I heard the auctioneer say that the
+sale was closed for the day.  I afterwards
+learned that if I had allowed them to put the
+watch in a box, they would have exchanged it
+for another that was only plated."
+
+"Do you know anybody in the city?" asked Paul.
+
+"I've got some relations, but I don't know
+where they live."
+
+"What is the name?" asked Paul, "we can
+look into the directory."
+
+"The name is Dawkins," answered the pedler.
+
+"Dawkins!" repeated Paul, in surprise.
+
+"Yes, do you happen to know anybody of the name?"
+
+"Yes, but I believe it is a rich family."
+
+"Well, so are my relations," said Jehoshaphat. 
+"You didn't think Jehoshaphat Stubbs
+had any rich relations, did you?  These, as I've
+heard tell, hold their heads as high as anybody."
+
+"Perhaps I may be mistaken," said Paul.
+
+"What is the name--the Christian name, I
+mean--of your relation?"
+
+"George."
+
+"It must be he, then.  There is a boy of
+about my own age of that name.  He works in
+the same office."
+
+"You don't say so!  Well, that is curious, I
+declare.  To think that I should have happened
+to hit upon you so by accident too."
+
+"How are you related to them?" inquired Paul.
+
+"Why, you see, I'm own cousin to Mr. Dawkins. 
+His father and my mother were brother and sister."
+
+"What was his father's business?" asked Paul.
+
+"I don't know what his regular business
+was, but he was a sexton in some church."
+
+This tallied with the account Paul had
+received from Mr. Cameron, and he could no
+longer doubt that, strange as it seemed, the
+wealthy Mr. Dawkins was own cousin to the pedler.
+
+"Didn't you say the boy was in the same
+office with you, Paul?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, I've a great mind to go and see him,
+and find out where his father lives.  Perhaps
+I may get an invite to his house."
+
+"How shocked Dawkins will be!" thought
+Paul, not, it must be confessed, without a feeling
+of amusement.  He felt no compunction
+in being the instrument of mortifying the false
+pride of his fellow clerk, and he accordingly
+signified to Mr. Stubbs that he was on his way
+to the counting-room.
+
+"Are you, though?  Well, I guess I'll go
+along with you.  Is it far off?"
+
+"Only in the next street."
+
+The pedler, it must be acknowledged, had a
+thoroughly countrified appearance.  He was
+a genuine specimen of the Yankee,--a long,
+gaunt figure, somewhat stooping, and with a long
+aquiline nose.  His dress has already been described.
+
+As Dawkins beheld him entering with Paul,
+he turned up his nose in disgust at what he
+considered Paul's friend.
+
+What was his consternation when the
+visitor, approaching him with a benignant
+smile, extended his brown hand, and said,
+"How d'ye do, George?  How are ye all to hum?"
+
+Dawkins drew back haughtily.
+
+"What do you mean?" he said, pale with passion.
+
+"Mr. Dawkins," said Paul, with suppressed merriment,
+"allow me to introduce your cousin, Mr. Stubbs."
+
+"Jehoshaphat Stubbs," explained that individual.
+"Didn't your father never mention my name to you?"
+
+"Sir," said Dawkins, darting a furious glance at Paul,
+"you are entirely mistaken if you suppose that any
+relationship exists between me and that--person."
+
+"No, it's you that are mistaken," said Mr.
+Stubbs, persevering, "My mother was Roxana
+Jane Dawkins.  She was own sister to your
+grandfather.  That makes me and your father
+cousins Don't you see?"
+
+"I see that you are intending to insult me,"
+said Dawkins, the more furiously, because he
+began to fear there might be some truth in the
+man's claims.  "Mr. Prescott, I leave you to
+entertain your company yourself."
+
+And he threw on his hat and dashed out of
+the counting-room.
+
+"Well," said the pedler, drawing a long
+breath, "that's cool,--denyin' his own flesh
+and blood.  Rather stuck up, ain't he?"
+
+"He is, somewhat," said Paul; "if I were you,
+I shouldn't be disposed to own him as a relation."
+
+"Darned ef I will!" said Jehoshaphat
+sturdily; "I have some pride, ef I am a pedler. 
+Guess I'm as good as he, any day."
+
+
+
+VII.
+
+MR. MUDGE'S FRIGHT.
+
+
+Squire Newcome sat in a high-backed chair
+before the fire with his heels on the fender. 
+He was engaged in solemnly perusing the leading
+editorial in the evening paper, when all
+at once the table at his side gave a sudden
+lurch, the lamp slid into his lap, setting the
+paper on fire, and, before the Squire realized
+his situation, the flames singed his whiskers,
+and made his face unpleasantly warm.
+
+"Cre-a-tion!" he exclaimed, jumping
+briskly to his feet.
+
+The lamp had gone out, so that the cause
+of the accident remained involved in mystery. 
+The Squire had little trouble in conjecturing,
+however, that Ben was at the bottom of it.
+
+Opening the door hastily, he saw, by the
+light in the next room, that young gentleman
+rising from his knees in the immediate vicinity
+of the table.
+
+"Ben-ja-min," said the Squire, sternly,
+
+"What have you been a-doing?"
+
+Ben looked sheepish, but said nothing.
+
+"I repeat, Benjamin, what have you been
+a-doing?"
+
+"I didn't mean to," said Ben.
+
+"That does not answer my interrogatory. 
+What have you been a-doing?"
+
+"I was chasing the cat," said Ben, "and
+she got under the table.  I went after her, and
+somehow it upset.  Guess my head might have
+knocked against the legs."
+
+"How old are you, Benjamin?"
+
+"Fifteen."
+
+"A boy of fifteen is too old to play with cats. 
+You may retire to your dormitory."
+
+"It's only seven o'clock, father," said Ben,
+in dismay.
+
+"Boys that play with cats are young enough
+to retire at seven," remarked the Squire,
+sagaciously.
+
+There was nothing for Ben but to obey.
+
+Accordingly with reluctant steps he went up
+to his chamber and went to bed.  His active
+mind, together with the early hour, prevented
+his sleeping.  Instead, his fertile imagination
+was employed in devising some new scheme, in
+which, of course, fun was to be the object
+attained.  While he was thinking, one scheme
+flashed upon him which he at once pronounced "bully."
+
+"I wish I could do it to-night," he sighed.
+
+"Why can't I?" he thought, after a
+moment's reflection.
+
+The more he thought of it, the more feasible
+it seemed, and at length he decided to attempt it.
+
+Rising from his bed he quickly dressed
+himself, and then carefully took the sheet, and
+folding it up in small compass put it under his
+arm.
+
+Next, opening the window, he stepped out
+upon the sloping roof of the ell part, and slid
+down to the end where he jumped off, the
+height not being more than four feet from the
+ground.  By some accident, a tub of suds was
+standing under the eaves, and Ben, much to
+his disgust, jumped into it.
+
+"Whew!" exclaimed he, "I've jumped into
+that plaguy tub.  What possessed Hannah to
+put it in a fellow's way?"
+
+At this moment the back door opened, and
+Hannah called out, in a shrill voice, "Who's
+there?"  Ben hastily hid himself, and thought
+it best not to answer.
+
+"I guess 'twas the cat," said Hannah, as
+she closed the door.
+
+"A two-legged cat," thought Ben, to
+himself; "thunder, what sopping wet feet I've got. 
+Well, it can't be helped."
+
+With the sheet still under his arm, Ben
+climbed a fence and running across the fields
+reached the fork of the road.  Here he concealed
+himself under a hedge, and waited
+silently till the opportunity for playing his
+practical joke arrived.
+
+I regret to say that Mr. Mudge, with whom
+we have already had considerable to do, was
+not a member of the temperance society.  Latterly,
+influenced perhaps by Mrs. Mudge's
+tongue, which made his home far from a happy
+one, he had got into the habit of spending his
+evenings at the tavern in the village, where he
+occasionally indulged in potations that were
+not good for him.  Generally, he kept within
+the bounds of moderation, but occasionally he
+exceeded these, as he had done on the present
+occasion.
+
+Some fifteen minutes after Ben had taken
+his station, he saw, in the moonlight, Mr.
+Mudge coming up the road, on his way home. 
+Judging from his zigzag course, he was not
+quite himself.
+
+Ben waited till Mr. Mudge was close at
+hand, when all at once he started from his
+place of concealment completely enveloped
+in the sheet with which he was provided. 
+He stood motionless before the astounded Mudge.
+
+"Who are you?" exclaimed Mudge, his
+knees knocking together in terror, clinging to
+an overhanging branch for support.
+
+There was no answer.
+
+"Who are you?" he again asked in affright.
+
+"Sally Baker," returned Ben, in as
+sepulchral a voice as he could command.
+
+Sally Baker was an old pauper, who had
+recently died.  The name occurred to Ben on
+the spur of the moment.  It was with some
+difficulty that he succeeded in getting out the
+name, such was his amusement at Mr. Mudge's
+evident terror.
+
+"What do you want of me?" inquired Mudge, nervously.
+
+"You half starved me when I was alive," returned Ben,
+in a hollow voice, "I must be revenged."
+
+So saying he took one step forward,
+spreading out his arms.  This was too much for Mr.
+Mudge.  With a cry he started and ran towards
+home at the top of his speed, with Ben in pursuit.
+
+"I believe I shall die of laughing, exclaimed Ben,
+pausing out of breath, and sitting down on a stone,
+"what a donkey he is, to be sure, to think there are
+such things as ghosts.  I'd like to be by when he tells
+Mrs. Mudge."
+
+After a moment's thought, Ben wrapped up
+the sheet, took it under his arm, and once
+more ran in pursuit of Mr. Mudge.
+
+Meanwhile Mrs. Mudge was sitting in the
+kitchen of the Poorhouse, mending stockings. 
+She was not in the pleasantest humor, for one
+of the paupers had managed to break a plate
+at tea-table (if that can be called tea where
+no tea is provided), and trifles were sufficient
+to ruffle Mrs. Mudge's temper.
+
+"Where's Mudge, I wonder?" she said,
+sharply; "over to the tavern, I s'pose, as usual. 
+There never was such a shiftless, good-for-
+nothing man.  I'd better have stayed unmarried
+all the days of my life than have married
+him.  If he don't get in by ten, I'll lock the
+door, and it shall stay locked.  'Twill serve him
+right to stay out doors all night."
+
+Minutes slipped away, and the decisive hour
+approached.
+
+"I'll go to the door and look out," thought
+Mrs. Mudge, "if he ain't anywhere in sight
+I'll fasten the door."
+
+She laid down her work and went to the door.
+
+She had not quite reached it when it was
+flung open violently, and Mr. Mudge, with a
+wild, disordered look, rushed in, nearly over-
+turning his wife, who gazed at him with mingled
+anger and astonishment.
+
+"What do you mean by this foolery, Mudge?"
+she demanded, sternly.
+
+"What do I mean?" repeated her husband, vaguely.
+
+"I needn't ask you," said his wife, contemptuously.
+"I see how it is, well enough.  You're drunk!"
+
+"Drunk!"
+
+"Yes, drunk; as drunk as a beast."
+
+"Well, Mrs. Mudge," hiccoughed her husband,
+in what he endeavored to make a dignified tone,
+"you'd be drunk too if you'd seen what I've seen."
+
+"And what have you seen, I should like to know?"
+said Mrs. Mudge.
+
+Mudge rose with some difficulty, steadied
+himself on his feet, and approaching his wife,
+whispered in a tragic tone, "Mrs. Mudge, I've
+seen a sperrit."
+
+"It's plain enough that you've seen spirit,"
+retorted his wife.  "'Tisn't many nights that
+you don't, for that matter.  You ought to be
+ashamed of yourself, Mudge."
+
+"It isn't that," said her husband, shaking his hand,
+"it's a sperrit,--a ghost, that I've seen."
+
+"Indeed!" said Mrs. Mudge, sarcastically,
+"perhaps you can tell whose it is."
+
+"It was the sperrit of Sally Baker," said Mudge, solemnly.
+
+"What did she say?" demanded Mrs. Mudge, a little curiously.
+
+"She said that I--that we, half starved her,
+and then she started to run after me--and--
+oh, Lordy, there she is now!"
+
+Mudge jumped trembling to his feet.  Following
+the direction of his outstretched finger,
+Mrs. Mudge caught a glimpse of a white figure
+just before the window.  I need hardly say
+that it was Ben, who had just arrived upon
+the scene.
+
+Mrs. Mudge was at first stupefied by what
+she saw, but being a woman of courage she
+speedily recovered herself, and seizing the
+broom from behind the door, darted out in
+search of the "spirit." But Ben, perceiving
+that he was discovered, had disappeared, and
+there was nothing to be seen.
+
+"Didn't I tell you so?" muttered Mudge,
+as his wife re-entered, baffled in her attempt,
+"you'll believe it's a sperrit, now."
+
+"Go to bed, you fool!" retorted his wife.
+
+This was all that passed between Mr. and
+Mrs. Mudge on the subject.  Mr. Mudge firmly
+believes, to this day, that the figure which
+appeared to him was the spirit of Sally Baker.
+
+
+
+XXVIII.
+
+HOW BEN GOT HOME.
+
+
+Delighted with the complete success of his
+practical joke, Ben took his way homeward
+with the sheet under his arm.  By the time he
+reached his father's house it was ten o'clock. 
+The question for Ben to consider now was,
+how to get in.  If his father had not fastened
+the front door he might steal in, and slip up
+stairs on tiptoe without being heard.  This
+would be the easiest way of overcoming the
+difficulty, and Ben, perceiving that the light
+was still burning in the sitting-room, had some
+hopes that he would be able to adopt it.  But
+while he was only a couple of rods distant he
+saw the lamp taken up by his father, who
+appeared to be moving from the room.
+
+"He's going to lock the front door," thought
+Ben, in disappointment; "if I had only got
+along five minutes sooner."
+
+From his post outside he heard the key turn
+in the lock.
+
+The 'Squire little dreamed that the son
+whom he imagined fast asleep in his room was
+just outside the door he was locking.
+
+"I guess I'll go round to the back part of
+the house," thought Ben, "perhaps I can get
+in the same way I came out."
+
+Accordingly he went round and managed to
+clamber upon the roof, which was only four
+feet from the ground.  But a brief trial served
+to convince our young adventurer that it is a
+good deal easier sliding down a roof than it is
+climbing up.  The shingles being old were
+slippery, and though the ascent was not steep,
+Ben found the progress he made was very
+much like that of a man at the bottom of a
+well, who is reported as falling back two feet
+for every three that he ascended.  What
+increased the difficulty of his attempt was that
+the soles of his shoes were well worn, and
+slippery as well as the shingles.
+
+"I never can get up this way," Ben concluded,
+after several fruitless attempts; "I know what I'll do,"
+he decided, after a moment's perplexity; "I'll pull
+off my shoes and stockings, and then I guess I can
+get along better."
+
+Ben accordingly got down from the roof, and
+pulled off his shoes and stockings.  As he
+wanted to carry these with him, he was at first
+a little puzzled by this new difficulty.  He
+finally tied the shoes together by the strings
+and hung them round his neck.  He disposed
+of the stockings by stuffing one in each pocket.
+
+"Now," thought Ben, "I guess I can get
+along better.  I don't know what to do with
+the plaguy sheet, though."
+
+But necessity is the mother of invention,
+and Ben found that he could throw the sheet
+over his shoulders, as a lady does with her
+shawl.  Thus accoutered he recommenced the
+ascent with considerable confidence.
+
+He found that his bare feet clung to the
+roof more tenaciously than the shoes had done,
+and success was already within his grasp, when
+an unforeseen mishap frustrated his plans.  He
+had accomplished about three quarters of the
+ascent when all at once the string which united
+the shoes which he had hung round his neck
+gave way, and both fell with a great thump on
+the roof.  Ben made a clutch for them in which
+he lost his own hold, and made a hurried descent
+in their company, alighting with his bare
+feet on some flinty gravel stones, which he
+found by no means agreeable.
+
+"Ow!" ejaculated Ben, limping painfully,
+"them plaguy gravel stones hurt like thunder. 
+I'll move 'em away the first thing to-morrow. 
+If that confounded shoe-string hadn't broken
+I'd have been in bed by this time."
+
+Meanwhile Hannah had been sitting over
+the kitchen fire enjoying a social chat with a
+"cousin" of hers from Ireland, a young man
+whom she had never seen or heard of three
+months before.  In what way he had succeeded
+in convincing her of the relationship I have
+never been able to learn, but he had managed
+to place himself on familiar visiting terms with
+the inmate of 'Squire Newcome's kitchen.
+
+"It's only me cousin, sir," Hannah explained
+to the 'Squire, when he had questioned her
+on the subject; "he's just from Ireland, sir,
+and it seems like home to see him."
+
+On the present occasion Tim Flaherty had
+outstayed his usual time, and was still in the
+kitchen when Ben reached home.  They did
+not at first hear him, but when he made his
+last abortive attempt, and the shoes came
+clattering down, they could not help hearing.
+
+"What's that?" asked Hannah, listening attentively.
+
+She went to the door to look out, her cousin following.
+
+There was nothing to be seen.
+
+"Perhaps you was dramin' Hannah," said
+Tim, "more by token, it's time we was both
+doin' that same, so I'll bid you good-night."
+
+"Come again soon, Tim," said Hannah,
+preparing to close the door.
+
+A new plan of entrance flashed upon Ben.
+
+He quickly put on his shoes and stockings,
+unfolded the sheet and prepared to enact the
+part of a ghost once more,--this time for the
+special benefit of Hannah.
+
+After fully attiring himself he came to the
+back door which Hannah had already locked,
+and tapped three times.
+
+Hannah was engaged in raking out the
+kitchen fire.
+
+"Sure it's Tim come back," thought she,
+as she went to the door.  "Perhaps he's
+forgotten something."
+
+She opened the door unsuspiciously, fully expecting
+to see her Irish cousin standing before her.
+
+What was her terror on beholding a white-
+robed figure, with extended arms.
+
+"Howly virgin, defend me!" she exclaimed,
+in paralyzing terror, which was increased by a
+guttural sound which proceeded from the throat
+of the ghost, who at the same time waved
+his arms aloft, and made a step towards Hannah.
+
+Hannah, with a wild howl dropped the lamp
+and fed towards the sitting-room, where
+'Squire Newcome was still sitting.
+
+Ben sped upstairs at the top of his speed,
+dashed into his own chamber, spread the sheet
+on the bed, and undressed so rapidly that he
+seemed only to shake his clothes off, and
+jumped into bed.  He closed his eyes and
+appeared to be in a profound slumber.
+
+Hannah's sudden appearance in the sitting-
+room in such a state naturally astonished the 'Squire.
+
+"What's the matter?" he demanded of the affrighted servant.
+
+"Oh, sir," she gasped, "I'm almost kilt entirely."
+
+"Are you?" said the 'Squire, "you appear
+to be more frightened than hurt."
+
+"Yes, sir, shure I am frightened, which indeed
+I couldn't help it, sir, for I never saw
+a ghost before in all my life."
+
+"A ghost!  What nonsense are you talking, Hannah?"
+
+"Shure it's not nonsense, for it's just now
+that the ghost came to the door, sir, and
+knocked, and I went to the door thinking it
+might be me cousin, who's been passing the
+evening with me, when I saw a great white
+ghost, ten foot tall, standing forninst me."
+
+"Ten feet tall?"
+
+"Yes, sir, and he spread out his arms and
+spoke in a terrible voice, and was going to
+carry me off wid him, but I dropped the lamp,
+and O sir, I'm kilt entirely."
+
+"This is a strange story," said 'Squire
+Newcome, rather suspiciously; "I hope you have
+not been drinking."
+
+Hannah protested vehemently that not a drop
+of liquor had passed her lips, which was true.
+
+"I'll go out and hunt for the ghost," said the 'Squire.
+
+"Oh, don't sir.  He'll carry you off,"
+said Hannah, terrified.
+
+"Nonsense!" exclaimed the 'Squire.  "Follow me,
+or you may stay here if you are frightened."
+
+This Hannah would by no means do, since
+the 'Squire had taken the lamp and she would
+be left in the dark.
+
+Accordingly she followed him with a
+trembling step, as he penetrated through the
+kitchen into the back room, ready to run at the
+least alarm.
+
+The back-door was wide open, but nothing
+was to be seen of the ghost.
+
+"Perhaps the ghost's up-stairs," said Hannah,
+"I can't sleep up there this night, shure."
+
+But something had attracted Squire Newcome's
+attention.  It was quite muddy out of
+doors, and Ben had tracked in considerable
+mud with him.  The footprints were very
+perceptible on the painted floor.
+
+"The ghost seems to have had muddy shoes,"
+said the 'Squire dryly; "I guess I can find
+him."
+
+He followed the tracks which witnessed so
+strongly against Ben, to whose chamber they led.
+
+Ben, though still awake, appeared to be in a
+profound slumber.
+
+"Ben-ja-min!" said his father, stooping over the bed.
+
+There was no answer.
+
+"Ben-ja-min!" repeated his father, giving
+him a shake, "what does all this mean?"
+
+"What?" inquired Ben, opening his eyes,
+and looking very innocent.
+
+"Where have you been, to-night?"
+
+"You sent me to bed," said Ben, "and I came."
+
+But the 'Squire was not to be deceived.  He
+was already in possession of too much information
+to be put off.  So Ben, who with all his
+love of mischief was a boy of truth, finally
+owned up everything.  His father said very
+little, but told him the next morning that he
+had made up his mind to send him to a military
+boarding-school, where the discipline was
+very strict.  Ben hardly knew whether to he
+glad or sorry, but finally, as boys like change
+and variety, came to look upon his new
+prospects with considerable cheerfulness.
+
+
+
+XXIX.
+
+DAWKINS IN DIFFICULTIES.
+
+
+George Dawkins was standing at his desk
+one morning, when a man entered the office,
+and stepping up to him, unceremoniously
+tapped him on the shoulder.
+
+Dawkins turned.  He looked extremely
+annoyed on perceiving his visitor, whose outward
+appearance was certainly far from prepossessing. 
+His face exhibited unmistakable
+marks of dissipation, nor did the huge breast
+pin and other cheap finery which he wore
+conceal the fact of his intense vulgarity.  His eyes
+were black and twinkling, his complexion very
+dark, and his air that of a foreigner.  He was,
+in fact, a Frenchman, though his language
+would hardly have betrayed him, unless, as
+sometimes, he chose to interlard his discourse
+with French phrases.
+
+"How are you this morning, my friend?"
+said the newcomer.
+
+"What are you here for?" asked Dawkins, roughly.
+
+"That does not seem to me a very polite way
+of receiving your friends."
+
+"Friends!" retorted Dawkins, scornfully,
+"who authorized you to call yourself my friend?"
+
+"Creditor, then, if it will suit you better, mon ami."
+
+"Hush," said Dawkins, in an alarmed whisper, "he will hear,"
+here he indicated Paul with his finger.
+
+"And why should I care?  I have no secrets
+from the young man."
+
+"Stop, Duval," exclaimed Dawkins, in an angry whisper,
+"Leave the office at once.  Your appearing here
+will injure me."
+
+"But I am not your friend; why should I care?" sneered Duval.
+
+"Listen to reason.  Leave me now, and I will meet you
+when and where you will."
+
+"Come, that sounds better."
+
+"Now go.  I'm afraid Mr. Danforth will be in."
+
+"If he comes, introduce me."
+
+Dawkins would like to have knocked the fellow over.
+
+"Name your place and time, and be quick about it,"
+said he impatiently.
+
+"Eight o'clock this evening, you know where,"
+was the answer.
+
+"Very well.  Good-morning."
+
+"Mind you bring some money."
+
+"Good-morning," returned Dawkins, angrily.
+
+At length, much to his relief, Duval left the
+office.  Dawkins stole a side glance at Paul, to
+see what impression the interview had made
+upon him, but our hero, who had overheard
+some portions of the dialogue, perceiving that
+Dawkins wished it to be private, took as little
+notice of the visitor as possible.  He could not
+help thinking, however, that Duval was a man
+whose acquaintance was likely to be of little
+benefit to his fellow clerk.
+
+Throughout the day Dawkins appeared
+unusually nervous, and made several blunders
+which annoyed Mr. Danforth.  Evidently he
+had something on his mind.  Not to keep the
+reader in suspense, George had fallen among
+bad companions, where he had learned both
+to drink and to gamble.  In this way he had
+made the acquaintance of Duval, an unscrupulous
+sharper, who had contrived to get away all
+his ready money, and persuading him to play
+longer in the hope of making up his losses had
+run him into debt one hundred and fifty dollars. 
+Dawkins gave him an acknowledgment
+of indebtedness to that amount.  This of course
+placed him in Duval's power, since he knew of
+no means of raising such a sum.  He therefore
+kept out of the Frenchman's way, avoiding
+the old haunts where he would have been likely
+to meet him.  Dawkins supposed Duval
+ignorant of the whereabouts of his employer's
+counting-room.  So he had been, but he made
+it his business to ascertain where it was.  He
+had no idea of losing sight of so valuable a prize.
+
+Dawkins would willingly have broken the
+appointment he had made with Duval, but he
+did not dare to do so.  He knew that the man
+was well able to annoy him, and he would not
+on any account have had the affair disclosed
+to his father or Mr. Danforth.
+
+As Trinity clock struck eight, he entered
+a low bar-room in the neighborhood of the docks.
+
+A young man with pale, sandy hair stood
+behind the counter with his sleeves rolled up. 
+He was supplying the wants of a sailor who
+already appeared to have taken more drink than
+was good for him.
+
+"Good evening, Mr. Dawkins," said he,
+"you're a stranger."
+
+"Is Duval in?" inquired Dawkins, coldly. 
+His pride revolted at the place and company. 
+He had never been here but once before, having
+met Duval elsewhere.
+
+"He's up in his room.  John show the young
+gentleman up to No. 9.  Won't you have a
+glass of something this evening?"
+
+"No," said Dawkins, abruptly.
+
+The boy preceded him up a dark and dirty
+staircase.
+
+"That's the room, sir," he said.
+
+"Stop a minute," said Dawkins, "he may
+not be in."
+
+He inwardly hoped he might not.  But
+Duval answered his knock by coming to the door
+himself.
+
+"Delighted to see you, mon ami.  John,
+may leave the lamp.  That's all, unless Mr.
+Dawkins wishes to order something."
+
+"I want nothing," said Dawkins.
+
+"They have some capital brandy."
+
+"I am not in the mood for drinking tonight."
+
+"As you please," said the Frenchman,
+disappointed; "be seated."
+
+Dawkins sat down in a wooden rocking-
+chair, minus an arm.
+
+"Well," said Duval, "how much money
+have you brought me?"
+
+"None."
+
+The Frenchman frowned and stroked his
+mustache, fiercely.
+
+"What does all this mean?  Are you going
+to put me off longer?"
+
+"I would pay it if I could," said Dawkins,
+"but I haven't got the money."
+
+"You could get it."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Ask your father."
+
+"My father would rave if he knew that I had
+lost money in such a way."
+
+"But you need not tell him."
+
+"If I ask for money, he will be sure to ask
+what I want it for."
+
+"Tell him you want clothes, or a watch, or
+a hundred things."
+
+Dawkins shook his head; "it won't do," said he.
+"He wouldn't give me a hundred and fifty dollars."
+
+"Then ask seventy-five, and I will wait a
+month for the rest."
+
+"Look here, Duval, you have no rightful
+claim to this money.  You've got enough out of
+me.  Just tear up the paper."
+
+Duval laughed scornfully, "Aha, Mr.
+Dawkins," he said, "that would be a very pretty
+arrangement FOR YOU.  But I don't see how it
+is going to benefit me.  No, no, I can't afford
+to throw away a hundred and fifty dollars so
+easily.  If I was a rich man like your father
+it would make a difference."
+
+"Then you won't remit the debt," said
+Dawkins, sullenly.
+
+"You would think me a great ninny, if I did."
+
+"Then you may collect it the best way you can."
+
+"What do you mean by that?" demanded
+the Frenchman, his face darkening.
+
+"I mean what I say," said Dawkins, desperately,
+"Gambling debts are not recognizable in law."
+
+"Nothing is said about it's being a gambling debt.
+I have your note."
+
+"Which is worth nothing, since I am a minor."
+
+Duval's face became black with rage.
+
+"Aha, my friend," said he showing his teeth,
+"this is a very nice game to cheat me out of
+my money.  But it won't do, it won't do."
+
+"Why won't it?"
+
+"I shall say a word in your father's ear,
+mon ami, and in the ear of your worthy employer
+whom you were so anxious for me not
+to see, and perhaps that would be worse for
+you than to pay me my money."
+
+Dawkins's brief exultation passed away.
+He saw that he was indeed in the power of an
+unscrupulous man, who was disposed to push his
+advantage to the utmost.
+
+He subsided into a moody silence, which
+Duval watched with satisfaction.
+
+"Well, my friend, what will you do about it?"
+
+"I don't know what I can do."
+
+"You will think of something.  You will find it best,"
+said the Frenchman, in a tone which veiled a threat.
+
+"I will try," said Dawkins, gloomily.
+
+"That is well.  I thought you would listen
+to reason, mon ami.  Now we will have a pleasant
+chat.  Hold, I will order some brandy myself."
+
+"Not for me," said Dawkins, rising from his
+chair, "I must be going."
+
+"Will you not have one little game?" asked
+Duval, coaxingly.
+
+"No, no, I have had enough of that.  Goodnight."
+
+"Then you won't stop.  And when shall I
+have the pleasure of seeing you at my little
+apartment once more?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"If it is any trouble to you to come, I will
+call at your office," said Duval, significantly.
+
+"Don't trouble yourself," said Dawkins,
+hastily; "I will come here a week from today."
+
+"A week is a long time."
+
+"Long or short, I must have it."
+
+"Very well, mon ami.  A week let it be. 
+Good-night.  Mind the stairs as you go down."
+
+Dawkins breathed more freely as he passed
+out into the open air.  He was beginning to
+realize that the way of the transgressor is hard.
+
+
+
+XXX.
+
+A TRAP IS LAID FOR PAUL.
+
+
+Three months before, George Dawkins had
+made his first visit to a gambling house.
+At first, he had entered only from curiosity.
+He watched the play with an interest which
+gradually deepened, until he was easily persuaded
+to try his own luck.  The stakes were small,
+but fortune favored him, and he came out some
+dollars richer than he entered.  It would have
+been fortunate for him if he had failed.  As it
+was, his good fortune encouraged him to another
+visit.  This time he was less fortunate,
+but his gains about balanced his losses, so that
+he came out even.  On the next occasion he left
+off with empty pockets.  So it went on until
+at length he fell into the hands of Duval, who
+had no scruple in fleecing him to as great an
+extent as he could be induced to go.
+
+George Dawkins's reflections were not of the
+most cheerful character as, leaving Duval, he
+slowly pursued his way homeward.  He felt
+that he had fallen into the power of an unscrupulous
+villain, who would have no mercy upon
+him.  He execrated his own folly, without
+which all the machination of Duval would
+have been without effect.
+
+The question now, however, was, to raise the
+money.  He knew of no one to whom he could
+apply except his father, nor did he have much
+hope from that quarter.  Still, he would make
+the effort.
+
+Reaching home he found his father seated
+in the library.  He looked up from the evening
+paper as George entered.
+
+"Only half-past nine," he said, with an air
+of sarcasm.  "You spend your evenings out so
+systematically that your early return surprises
+me.  How is it?  Has the theater begun to lose
+its charm!"
+
+There was no great sympathy between father
+and son, and if either felt affection for the
+other, it was never manifested.  Mutual
+recrimination was the rule between them, and
+George would now have made an angry answer
+but that he had a favor to ask, and felt
+it politic to be conciliatory.
+
+"If I had supposed you cared for my society, sir,
+I would have remained at home oftener."
+
+"Umph!" was the only reply elicited from his father.
+
+"However, there was a good reason for my
+not going to the theater to-night."
+
+"Indeed!"
+
+"I had no money."
+
+"Your explanation is quite satisfactory,"
+said his father, with a slight sneer.
+"I sympathize in your disappointment."
+
+"There is no occasion, sir," said George,
+good humoredly, for him.  "I had no great
+desire to go."
+
+Dawkins took down a book from the library
+and tried to read, but without much success. 
+His thoughts continually recurred to his pecuniary
+embarrassments, and the debt which
+he owed to Duval seemed to hang like a millstone
+around his neck.  How should he approach
+his father on the subject?  In his present
+humor he feared he would have little chance.
+
+As his father laid down the newspaper
+Dawkins said, "Wouldn't you like a game of
+checkers, sir?"
+
+This, as he well knew, was a favorite game
+with his father.
+
+"I don't know but I should," said Mr.
+Dawkins, more graciously than was his wont.
+
+The checker-board was brought, and the two
+commenced playing.  Three games were played
+all of which his father won.  This appeared
+to put him in a good humor, for as the two
+ceased playing, he drew a ten-dollar-bill from
+his pocket-book, and handed to his son, with
+the remark, "There, George, I don't want you
+to be penniless.  You are a little extravagant,
+though, I think.  Your pay from Mr. Danforth
+ought to keep you in spending money."
+
+"Yes, sir, I have been rather extravagant,
+but I am going to reform."
+
+"I am very glad to hear it."
+
+"I wish, sir," said George a moment
+afterwards," that you would allow me to buy my
+own clothes."
+
+"I've no sort of an objection, I am sure. 
+You select them now, don't you?"
+
+"Yes, sir, but I mean to suggest that you
+should make me an allowance for that purpose,
+--about as much as it costs now,--and give
+me the money to spend where I please."
+
+Mr. Dawkins looked sharply at his son.
+
+"The result would probably be," he said,
+"that the money would be expended in other
+ways, and I should have to pay for the clothes
+twice over."
+
+Dawkins would have indignantly disclaimed
+this, if he had not felt that he was not
+altogether sincere in the request he had made.
+
+"No," continued his father, "I don't like the
+arrangement you propose.  When you need
+clothing you can go to my tailor and order it,
+of course not exceeding reasonable limits."
+
+"But," said Dawkins, desperately, "I don't
+like Bradshaw's style of making clothes.  I
+would prefer trying some other tailor."
+
+"What fault have you to find with Bradshaw? 
+Is he not one of the most fashionable
+tailors in the city?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I suppose so, but----"
+
+"Come, sir, you are growing altogether too
+particular.  All your garments set well, so far
+as I can judge."
+
+"Yes, sir, but one likes a change sometimes,"
+persisted George, a little embarrassed for
+further objections.
+
+"Well," said Mr. Dawkins, after a pause,
+"If you are so strongly bent upon a new tailor,
+select one, and order what you need.  You can
+tell him to send in his bill to me."
+
+"Thank you sir," said his son, by no means
+pleased at the manner in which his request had
+been granted.  He saw that it would in no manner
+promote the plan which he had in view,
+since it would give him no command of the
+ready money.  It is hardly necessary to say
+that his alleged dissatisfaction with his father's
+tailor had all been trumped up for the occasion,
+and would never have been thought of
+but for the present emergency.
+
+"What shall I do!" thought Dawkins, in
+perplexity, as he slowly undressed himself and
+retired to bed.
+
+The only true course, undoubtedly, was to
+confess all to his father, to incur the storm of
+reproaches which would have followed as the
+just penalty of his transgression, and then the
+haunting fear of discovery would have been
+once and forever removed.  But Dawkins was
+not brave enough for this.  He thought only of
+escaping from his present difficulty without
+his father's knowledge.
+
+He rose the next morning with the burden
+of care still weighing upon him.  In the
+evening the thought occurred to him that he might
+retrieve his losses where he had incurred them,
+and again he bent his steps to the gambling
+house.  He risked five dollars, being one-half
+of what he had.  This was lost.  Desperately
+he hazarded the remaining five dollars, and
+lost again.
+
+With a muttered oath he sprang to his feet,
+and left the brilliant room, more gloomy and
+discouraged than ever.  He was as badly off
+as before, and penniless beside.  He would
+have finished the evening at the theater, but
+his recent loss prevented that.  He lounged
+about the streets till it was time to go to bed,
+and then went home in a very unsatisfactory
+state of mind.
+
+A day or two after, he met on Broadway the
+man whom of all others he would gladly have avoided.
+
+"Aha, my friend, I am glad to meet you,"
+said Duval, for it was he.
+
+Dawkins muttered something unintelligible,
+and would have hurried on, but Duval detained him.
+
+"Why are you in such a hurry, my friend?" he said.
+
+"Business," returned Dawkins, shortly.
+
+"That reminds me of the little business
+affair between us, mon ami.  Have you got any
+money for me?"
+
+"Not yet."
+
+"Not yet!  It is three days since we saw
+each other.  Could you not do something in
+three days?"
+
+"I told you I required a week," said
+Dawkins, roughly, "Let go my arm.  I tell you I
+am in haste."
+
+"Very well, mon ami," said Duval, slowly
+relinquishing his hold, "take care that you do
+not forget.  There are four days more to the week."
+
+Dawkins hurried on feeling very uncomfortable. 
+He was quite aware that four days hence
+he would be as unprepared to encounter the
+Frenchman as now.  Still, something might happen.
+
+Something, unfortunately, did happen.
+
+The next day Mr. Danforth was counting
+a roll of bills which had been just paid in,
+when he was unexpectedly called out of the
+counting-room.  He unguardedly left the bills
+upon his own desk.  Dawkins saw them lying
+there.  The thought flashed upon him, "There
+lies what will relieve me from all my embarrassment."
+
+Allowing himself scarcely a minute to think,
+he took from the roll four fifty dollar notes,
+thrust one into the pocket of Paul's overcoat,
+which hung up in the office, drew off his right
+boot and slipped the other three into the bottom
+of it, and put it on again.  He then nervously
+resumed his place at his desk.  A moment
+afterwards, Paul, who had been to the
+post-office, entered with letters which he
+carried into the inner office and deposited on Mr.
+Danforth's desk.  He observed the roll of bills,
+and thought his employer careless in leaving
+so much money exposed, but said nothing on
+the subject to Dawkins, between whom and
+himself there was little communication.
+
+
+
+XXXI.
+
+CONVICTED OF THEFT.
+
+
+Half an hour later Mr. Danforth returned.
+
+"Has any one been here?" he asked as he
+passed through the outer office.
+
+"No, sir," said Dawkins, with outward
+composure though his heart was beating rapidly.
+
+While apparently intent upon his writing he
+listened attentively to what might be going on
+in the next room.  One,--two,--three minutes
+passed.  Mr. Danforth again showed himself.
+
+"Did you say that no one has been here?"
+he demanded, abruptly.
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Have either of you been into my office since
+I have been out?"
+
+"I have not, sir," said Dawkins.
+
+"I went in to carry your letters," said Paul.
+
+"Did you see a roll of bills lying on my desk?"
+
+"Yes, sir," said Paul, a little surprised at
+the question.
+
+"I have just counted it over, and find but six
+hundred dollars instead of eight hundred.  Can
+you account for the discrepancy?"
+
+Mr. Danforth looked keenly at the two boys. 
+Dawkins, who had schooled himself to the ordeal,
+maintained his outward calmness.  Paul,
+beginning to perceive that his honesty was
+called in question, flushed.
+
+"No, sir," said the boys simultaneously.
+
+"It can hardly be possible, that Mr. Thompson,
+who is a very careful man, should have made such
+a mistake in paying me," resumed Mr. Danforth.
+
+"As we have been the only persons here,"
+said Dawkins, "the only way to vindicate ourselves
+from suspicion is, to submit to a search."
+
+"Yes, sir," said Paul promptly.
+
+Both boys turned their pockets inside out,
+but the missing money was not found.
+
+"There is my overcoat, sir," said Dawkins,
+"will you be kind enough to search it for yourself?"
+
+Next, of course, Paul's overcoat was searched.
+
+What was our hero's dismay when from one
+of the pockets Mr. Danforth produced a fifty
+dollar bill.
+
+"Is it possible?" he exclaimed in as much
+grief as surprise, "Unhappy boy, how came
+you by this money in your pocket?"
+
+"I don't know, sir," returned Paul, his cheek
+alternately flushing and growing pale.
+
+"I wish I could believe you," said Mr. Danforth;
+"where have you put the other bills?  Produce them,
+and I may overlook this first offense."
+
+"Indeed, sir," said Paul, in great distress,
+"I have not the slightest knowledge of how
+this bill came into my pocket.  I hope you will
+believe me, sir."
+
+"How can I?  The money evidently did not
+go into your pocket without hands."
+
+A sudden thought came to Paul.  "Dawkins,"
+said he, "did you put that money into my pocket?"
+
+"What do you mean, sir?" returned Dawkins,
+haughtily.  "Is it your intention to insult me?"
+
+Dawkins could not prevent his face from flushing
+as he spoke, but this might easily be referred
+to a natural resentment of the imputation cast upon him.
+
+"Paul," said his employer, coldly, "you will
+not help your own cause by seeking to involve
+another.  After what has happened you can
+hardly expect me to retain you in my employment. 
+I will not make public your disgrace,
+nor will I inquire farther for the remainder
+of the money for which you have been willing
+to barter your integrity.  I will pay your wages
+up to the end of this week, and----"
+
+"Mr. Danforth," said Paul, manfully,
+though the tears almost choked his utterance,
+"I am sorry that you have no better opinion
+of me.  I do not want the balance of my wages.
+If I have taken so large a sum which did not
+belong to me, I have no claim to them. 
+Good-morning, sir.  Sometime I hope you will
+think better of me."
+
+Paul put on his coat, and taking his cap
+from the nail on which it hung, bowed respectfully
+to his employer and left the office.
+
+Mr. Danforth looked after him, and seemed
+perplexed.  Could Paul be guilty after all?
+
+"I never could have suspected him if I had
+not this evidence in my hand," said Mr. Danforth,
+to himself, fixing his eyes upon the bill
+which he had drawn from Paul's overcoat.
+
+"Dawkins, did you observe whether Paul
+remained long in the office?" he asked,
+
+"Longer than sufficient to lay the letters
+on the desk?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I think he did."
+
+"Did you notice whether he went to his
+overcoat after coming out?"
+
+"Yes, sir, he did," said Dawkins, anxious to
+fix in Mr. Danforth's mind the impression of
+Paul's guilt.
+
+"Then I am afraid it is true," said his
+employer sadly.  "And yet, what a fine, manly
+boy he is too.  But it is a terrible fault."
+
+Mr. Danforth was essentially a kind-hearted
+man, and he cared much more for Paul's dereliction
+from honesty than for the loss of the
+money.  Going home early to dinner, he
+communicated to his wife the unpleasant
+discovery which he had made respecting Paul.
+
+Now, from the first, Paul had been a great
+favorite with Mrs. Danforth, and she scouted
+at the idea of his dishonesty.
+
+"Depend upon it, Mr. Danforth," she said
+decisively, "you have done the boy an injustice. 
+I have some skill in reading faces, and I
+tell you that a boy with Paul Prescott's open,
+frank expression is incapable of such a crime."
+
+"So I should have said, my dear, but we
+men learn to be less trustful than you ladies,
+who stay at home and take rose-colored views
+of life.  Unfortunately, we see too much of the
+dark side of human nature."
+
+"So that you conclude all to be dark."
+
+"Not so bad as that."
+
+"Tell me all the circumstances, and perhaps
+a woman's wit may help you."
+
+Mr. Danforth communicated all the details,
+with which the reader is already familiar.
+
+"What sort of a boy is this Dawkins?"
+she asked, "Do you like him?"
+
+"Not particularly.  He does his duties passably well.
+I took him into my counting-room to oblige his father."
+
+"Perhaps he is the thief."
+
+"To tell the truth I would sooner have suspected him."
+
+"Has he cleared himself from suspicion?"
+
+"He was the first to suggest a search."
+
+"Precisely the thing he would have done,
+if he had placed the bill in Paul's pocket.
+Of course he would know that the search must
+result favorably for him."
+
+"There is something in that."
+
+"Besides, what could have been more foolish,
+if Paul wished to hide the money, than to
+multiply his chances of detection by hiding it
+in two different places, especially where one
+was so obvious as to afford no concealment at all."
+
+"Admitting this to be true, how am I to
+arrive at the proof of Paul's innocence?"
+
+"My own opinion is, that George Dawkins
+has the greater part of the money stolen.
+Probably he has taken it for some particular purpose. 
+What it is, you may learn, perhaps, by watching him."
+
+"I will be guided by your suggestion. 
+Nothing would afford me greater pleasure than
+to find that I have been mistaken in assuming
+Paul's guilt, though on evidence that seemed convincing."
+
+This conversation took place at the dinner-
+table.  Mr. Danforth understood that no time
+was to be lost if he expected to gain any
+information from the movements of his clerk.
+
+George Dawkins had ventured upon a bold act,
+but he had been apparently favored by fortune,
+and had succeeded.  That he should have
+committed this crime without compunction
+could hardly be expected.  His uneasiness,
+however, sprang chiefly from the fear that
+in some way he might yet be detected.
+He resolved to get rid of the money which he
+had obtained dishonestly, and obtain back from Duval the
+acknowledgment of indebtedness which he had given him.
+
+You will perhaps ask whether the wrong which
+he had done Paul affected him with uneasiness.
+On the contrary, it gratified the dislike which
+from the first he had cherished towards our hero.
+
+"I am well rid of him, at all events," he muttered
+to himself, "that is worth risking some thing for."
+
+When office hours were over Dawkins gladly
+threw down his pen, and left the counting-room.
+
+He bent his steps rapidly towards the locality
+where he had before met Duval.  He had decided
+to wait some time before meeting that worthy.
+He had to wait till another day, when as he was
+emerging from the tavern he encountered
+the Frenchman on the threshold.
+
+"Aha, my good friend," said Duval, offering his hand,
+which Dawkins did not appear to see, "I am very glad
+to see you.  Will you come in?"
+
+"No, I have not time," said Dawkins, shortly.
+
+"Have you brought me my money?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Aha, that is well.  I was just about what
+you call cleaned out."
+
+"Have you my note with you?"
+
+Duval fumbled in his pocket-book, and
+finally produced the desired document.
+
+"Give it to me."
+
+"I must have the money first," said the
+Frenchman, shrewdly.
+
+"Take it," said Dawkins contemptuously.
+"Do you judge me by yourself?"
+
+He tore the note which he received into small pieces,
+and left Duval without another word.
+
+Sheltered by the darkness, Mr. Danforth,
+who had tracked the steps of Dawkins, had
+been an unseen witness of this whole transaction.
+
+
+
+XXXII.
+
+RIGHT TRIUMPHANT.
+
+
+George Dawkins resumed his duties the
+next morning as usual.  Notwithstanding the
+crime he had committed to screen himself from
+the consequences of a lighter fault, he felt
+immeasurably relieved at the thought that he had
+shaken himself free from the clutches of Duval. 
+His satisfaction was heightened by the disgrace
+and summary dismissal of Paul, whom he had never liked.
+He decided to ask the place for a cousin of his own,
+whose society would be more agreeable to him than
+that of his late associate.
+
+"Good-morning, sir," he said, as Mr. Danforth entered.
+
+"Good-morning," returned his employer, coldly.
+
+"Have you selected any one in Prescott's place, yet, sir?"
+
+"Why do you ask?"
+
+"Because I have a cousin, Malcolm Harcourt,
+who would be glad to take it."
+
+"Indeed!" said Mr. Danforth, whose manner
+somewhat puzzled Dawkins.
+
+"I should enjoy having him with me,"
+continued Dawkins.
+
+"Did you like Prescott?"
+
+"No, sir," said Dawkins, promptly, "I didn't
+want to say so before, but now, since he's
+turned out so badly, I don't mind saying
+that I never thought much of him."
+
+"On the contrary," said Mr. Danforth, "I
+liked him from the first.  Perhaps we are
+wrong in thinking that he took the money."
+
+"I should think there could be no doubt of it,"
+said Dawkins, not liking the sympathy and returning
+good feeling for Paul which his employer manifested.
+
+"I don't agree with you," said Mr. Danforth, coldly.
+"I have decided to reinstate Paul in his former place."
+
+"Then, if any more money is missing, you will know
+where it has gone," said Dawkins, hastily.
+
+"I shall."
+
+"Then there is no chance for my cousin?"
+
+"I am expecting to have a vacancy."
+
+Dawkins looked up in surprise.
+
+"I shall require some one to fill YOUR place,"
+said Mr. Danforth, significantly.
+
+"Sir!" exclaimed Dawkins, in astonishment and dismay.
+
+His employer bent a searching glance upon
+him as he asked, sternly, "where did you obtain
+the money which you paid away last evening?"
+
+"I--don't--understand--you, sir," gasped
+Dawkins, who understood only too well.
+
+"You met a man at the door of a low tavern
+in--Street, last evening, to whom you paid
+one hundred and fifty dollars, precisely the
+sum which I lost yesterday."
+
+"Who has been slandering me, sir?" asked
+Dawkins, very pale.
+
+"An eye-witness of the meeting, who heard
+the conversation between you.  If you want
+more satisfactory proof, here it is."
+
+Mr. Danforth took from his pocket-book the
+torn fragments of the note which Dawkins had
+given to Duval.
+
+"Here is an obligation to pay a certain
+Duval the sum of one hundred and fifty dollars. 
+It bears your signature.  How you could have
+incurred such a debt to him you best know."
+
+Dawkins maintained a sullen silence.
+
+"I suppose you wish me to leave your employment,"
+he said at length.
+
+"You are right.  Hold," he added, as Dawkins
+was about leaving the room, "a word more.
+It is only just that you should make a
+restitution of the sum which you have taken. 
+If you belonged to a poor family and there
+were extenuating circumstances, I might
+forego my claim.  But your father is abundantly
+able to make good the loss, and I shall
+require you to lay the matter before him
+without loss of time.  In consideration
+of your youth, I shall not bring the matter before
+the public tribunals, as I have a right to do."
+
+Dawkins turned pale at this allusion, and
+muttering some words to the effect that he
+would do what he could, left the counting-room.
+
+This threat proved not to be without its effect.
+The next day he came to Mr. Danforth and brought
+the sum for which he had become responsible.
+He had represented to his father that he had
+had his pocket picked of this sum belonging
+to Mr. Danforth, and in that manner obtained
+an equal amount to replace it.  It was some time
+before Mr. Dawkins learned the truth.  Then came
+a storm of reproaches in which all the bitterness
+of his father's nature was fully exhibited.
+There had never been much love between father and son.
+Henceforth there was open hatred.
+
+We must return to Paul, whom we left in much trouble.
+
+It was a sad walk which he took homeward
+on the morning of his dismissal.
+
+"What brings you home so early?" asked Mrs. Cameron,
+looking up from her baking, as Paul entered.
+
+Paul tried to explain, but tears came to his eyes,
+and sobs choked his utterance.
+
+"Are you sick, Paul?" exclaimed Mrs. Cameron, in alarm.
+
+"No, Aunt Hester."
+
+"Then what is the matter?" she asked anxiously.
+
+"I have lost my place."
+
+"Poor boy!  I am very sorry to hear it.
+But it might have been worse."
+
+"No, not very well, Aunt Hester, for Mr. Danforth
+thinks I have taken some of his money."
+
+"He is very unjust!" exclaimed Aunt Hester,
+indignantly, "he ought to have known better
+than to think you would steal."
+
+"Why, no," said Paul, candidly, "I must
+confess the evidence was against me, and he
+doesn't know me as well as you do, Aunt Hester."
+
+"Tell me all about it, Paul."
+
+Aunt Hester sat down and listened
+attentively to our hero's story.
+
+"How do you account for the money being
+found in your pocket?" she asked at length.
+
+"I think it must have been put there by
+some one else."
+
+"Have you any suspicions?"
+
+"Yes," said Paul, a little reluctantly,
+"but I don't know whether I ought to have.
+I may be wronging an innocent person."
+
+"At any rate it won't do any harm to tell me."
+
+"You've heard me speak of George Dawkins?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I can't help thinking that he put the fifty
+dollars into my pocket, and took the rest himself."
+
+"How very wicked he must be!" exclaimed
+Mrs. Cameron, indignantly.
+
+"Don't judge him too hastily; Aunt Hester,
+he may not be guilty, and I know from my
+own experience how hard it is to be accused
+when you are innocent."
+
+Soon after the sexton came in, and Paul of
+course, told his story over again.
+
+"Never mind, Paul," said Uncle Hugh, cheerily.
+"You know your own innocence; that is the main thing.
+It's a great thing to have a clear conscience."
+
+"But I liked Mr. Danforth and I think he liked me.
+It's hard to feel that he and Mrs. Danforth
+will both think me guilty, especially after
+the kindness which I have experienced from them."
+
+"We all have our crosses, my boy,--some
+light and others heavy.  Yours, I admit is a
+heavy one for a boy to bear.  But when men
+are unjust there is One above who will deal
+justly with us.  You have not forgotten him."
+
+"No, Uncle Hugh," said Paul, reverently.
+
+"Trust in him, Paul, and all will come out
+right at last.  He can prove your innocence,
+and you may be sure he will, in his own good time.
+Only be patient, Paul."
+
+"I will try to be, Uncle Hugh."
+
+The simple, hearty trust in God, which the
+sexton manifested, was not lost upon Paul. 
+Sustained by his own consciousness of innocence,
+and the confidence reposed in him by
+those who knew him best, his mind soon
+regained its cheerful tone.  He felt an inward
+conviction that God would vindicate his innocence.
+
+His vindication came sooner than he anticipated.
+
+The next day as the sexton's family were
+seated at their plain dinner, a knock was heard
+upon the outer door.
+
+"Sit still, Hester," said Mr. Cameron.
+"I will go to the door."
+
+Opening the door he recognized Mr. Danforth,
+who attended the same church.
+
+"Mr. Cameron, I believe," said Mr. Danforth, pleasantly.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"May I come in?  I am here on a little business."
+
+"Certainly, Mr. Danforth.  Excuse my not inviting you before;
+but in my surprise at seeing you, I forgot my politeness."
+
+The sexton led the way into the plain sitting-room.
+
+"I believe Paul Prescott is an inmate of your family."
+
+"Yes, sir.  I am sorry----"
+
+"I know what you would say, sir; but it is needless.
+May I see Paul a moment?"
+
+Paul was surprised at the summons, and still more
+surprised at finding who it was that wished to see him.
+
+He entered the room slowly, uncertain how
+to accost Mr. Danforth.  His employer solved
+the doubt in his mind by advancing cordially,
+and taking his hand.
+
+"Paul," he said pleasantly, "I have come
+here to ask your forgiveness for an injustice,
+and to beg you to resume your place in my
+counting-room."
+
+"Have you found out who took the money, sir?"
+asked Paul, eagerly.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Who was it, sir?"
+
+"It was Dawkins."
+
+Mr. Danforth explained how he had become
+acquainted with the real thief.  In conclusion,
+he said, "I shall expect you back to-morrow
+morning, Paul."
+
+"Thank you, sir."
+
+"Dawkins of course leaves my employ.  You
+will take his place, and receive his salary,
+seven dollars a week instead of five.  Have you
+any friend whom you would like to have in
+your own place?"
+
+Paul reflected a moment and finally named a
+schoolmate of his, the son of poor parents,
+whom he knew to be anxiously seeking a situation,
+but without influential friends to help him.
+
+"I will take him on your recommendation,"
+said Mr. Danforth, promptly.  "Can you see
+him this afternoon?"
+
+"Yes, sir," said Paul.
+
+The next day Paul resumed his place in Mr.
+Danforth's counting-room.
+
+
+
+XXXIII.
+
+PAUL REDEEMS HIS PLEDGE.
+
+
+Two years passed, unmarked by any
+incident of importance.  Paul continued in Mr.
+Danforth's employment, giving, if possible,
+increased satisfaction.  He was not only faithful,
+but exhibited a rare aptitude for business,
+which made his services of great value to
+his employer.  From time to time Mr. Danforth
+increased his salary, so that, though only
+nineteen, he was now receiving twelve dollars
+per week, with the prospect of a speedy
+increase.  But with his increasing salary, he did
+not increase his expenses.  He continued as
+economical as ever.  He had not forgotten his
+father's dying injunction.  He remained true
+to the charge which he had taken upon himself,
+that of redeeming his father's memory from
+reproach.  This, at times subjected him to the
+imputation of meanness, but for this he cared
+little.  He would not swerve from the line of
+duty which he had marked out.
+
+One evening as he was walking down Broadway
+with an acquaintance, Edward Hastings,
+who was employed in a counting-room near
+him, they paused before a transparency in
+front of a hall brilliantly lighted.
+
+"The Hutchinsons are going to sing to-night, Paul,"
+said Hastings.  "Did you ever hear them?"
+
+"No; but I have often wished to."
+
+"Then suppose we go in."
+
+"No, I believe not."
+
+"Why not.  Paul?  It seems to me you never go anywhere.
+You ought to amuse yourself now and then."
+
+"Some other time I will,--not now."
+
+"You are not required to be at home in the evening,
+are you?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then why not come in now?  It's only twenty-five cents."
+
+"To tell the truth, Ned, I am saving up my
+money for a particular purpose; and until that
+is accomplished, I avoid all unnecessary expense."
+
+"Going to invest in a house in Fifth Avenue?
+When you do, I'll call.  However, never mind the expense.
+I'll pay you in."
+
+"I'm much obliged to you, Ned, but I can't. accept."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because at present I can't afford to return the favor."
+
+"Never mind that."
+
+"But I do mind it.  By-and-by I shall feel more free.
+Good-night, if you are going in."
+
+"Good-night, Paul."
+
+"He's a strange fellow," mused Hastings.
+
+"It's impossible to think him mean, and yet,
+it looks a great deal like it.  He spends nothing
+for dress or amusements.  I do believe that
+I've had three coats since he's been wearing
+that old brown one.  Yet, he always looks neat. 
+I wonder what he's saving up his money for."
+
+Meanwhile Paul went home.
+
+The sexton and his wife looked the same
+as ever.  Paul sometimes fancied that Uncle
+Hugh stooped a little more than he used to do;
+but his life moved on so placidly and evenly,
+that he grew old but slowly.  Aunt Hester was
+the same good, kind, benevolent friend that she
+had always been.  No mother could have been
+more devoted to Paul.  He felt that he had
+much to be grateful for, in his chance meeting
+with this worthy couple.
+
+It was the first of January,--a clear, cold day.
+A pleasant fire burned in the little stove. 
+Mr. Cameron sat at one side, reading the evening
+paper; Mrs. Cameron at the other, knitting
+a stocking for Paul.  A large, comfortable-
+looking cat was dozing tranquilly on the
+hearth-rug.  Paul, who had been seated at the
+table, rose and lighted a candle.
+
+"Where are you going, Paul?" asked Aunt Hester.
+
+"Up-stairs for a moment."
+
+Paul speedily returned, bearing in his hand
+a small blue bank-book, with his name on the cover.
+
+He took out his pencil and figured a few minutes.
+
+"Uncle Hugh," said he, looking up, "when
+I get a hundred dollars more, I shall have
+enough to pay father's debt."
+
+"Principal and interest?"
+
+"Yes, principal and interest; reckoning the
+interest for a year to come."
+
+"I did not suppose you had so much money, Paul.
+You must have been very economical."
+
+"Yes, Uncle Hugh more so than I have wanted to be,
+oftentimes; but whenever I have been tempted to spend
+a cent unnecessarily, I have always called to mind
+my promise made to father on his deathbed,
+and I have denied myself."
+
+"You have done well, Paul.  There are few who would
+have had the resolution to do as you have."
+
+"Oh yes, Uncle Hugh," said Paul, modestly,
+"I think there are a great many.  I begin to
+feel repaid already.  In a few months I shall
+be able to pay up the whole debt."
+
+At this moment a knock was heard at the door.
+Mr. Cameron answered the summons.
+
+"Does Mr. Paul Prescott live here?" inquired a boy.
+
+"Yes.  Do you want to see him?"
+
+"Here is a letter for him.  There is no answer."
+
+The messenger departed, leaving the letter
+in Mr. Cameron's hand.
+
+Somewhat surprised, he returned to the
+sitting-room and handed it to Paul.
+
+Paul opened it hastily, and discovered
+inclosed, a bank-note for one hundred dollars. 
+It was accompanied with a note from his employer,
+stating that it was intended as a New Year's gift,
+but in the hurry of business, he had forgotten
+to give it to him during the day.
+
+Paul's face lighted up with joy.
+
+"Oh, Uncle Hugh!" he exclaimed, almost
+breathless with delight.  "Don't you see that
+this will enable me to pay my debt at once?"
+
+"So it will, Paul.  I wish you joy."
+
+"And my father's memory will be vindicated,"
+said Paul, in a tone of deep satisfaction. 
+"If he could only have lived to see this day!"
+
+A fortnight later, Paul obtained permission
+from his employer to be absent from the office
+for a week.  It was his purpose to visit Cedarville
+and repay 'Squire Conant the debt due him:
+and then, to go across the country to Wrenville,
+thirty miles distant, to see Aunt Lucy Lee.
+First, however, he ordered a new suit of a tailor,
+feeling a desire to appear to the best advantage
+on his return to the scene of his former humiliation.
+I must not omit to say that Paul was now a fine-looking
+young fellow of nineteen, with a frank, manly face,
+that won favor wherever he went.
+
+In due course of time, he arrived at Cedarville,
+and found his way without difficulty to
+the house of 'Squire Conant.
+
+It was a large house, rather imposing in its exterior,
+being quite the finest residence in the village.
+
+Paul went up the walk, and rang the bell.
+
+"Can I see 'Squire Conant?" he asked of
+the servant who answered the bell.
+
+"You'll find him in that room," said the girl,
+pointing to a door on the left hand of the hall.
+
+"As he doesn't know me, perhaps you had
+better go before."
+
+The door was opened, and Paul found himself
+in the presence of his father's creditor. 
+'Squire Conant was looking pale and thin.  He
+was just recovering from a severe sickness.
+
+"I presume you don't recognize me, sir," said Paul.
+
+"Did I ever see you before?"
+
+"Yes, sir; my name is Paul Prescott."
+
+"Not the son of John Prescott?"
+
+"The same, sir.  I believe my father died in your debt."
+
+"Yes.  I lent him five hundred dollars, which he never repaid."
+
+"He tried to do so, sir.  He had saved up a hundred and fifty
+dollars towards it, but sickness came upon him, and he was
+obliged to use it."
+
+'Squire Conant's temper had been subdued
+by the long and dangerous illness through
+which he had passed.  It had made him set a
+smaller value on his earthly possessions,
+from which he might be separated at any moment. 
+When he answered Paul, it was in a manner
+which our hero did not expect.
+
+"Never mind.  I can afford to lose it.  I
+have no doubt he did what he could."
+
+"But I have come to pay it, sir," said Paul.
+
+"You!" exclaimed 'Squire Conant,
+in the greatest astonishment.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Where did you get the money?"
+
+"I earned it, sir."
+
+"But you are very young.  How could you
+have earned so much?"
+
+Paul frankly told the story of his struggles;
+how for years he had practised a pinching economy,
+in order to redeem his father's memory from reproach.
+
+'Squire Conant listened attentively.
+
+"You are a good boy," he said, at length.
+
+"Shall you have anything left after paying this money?"
+
+"No, sir; but I shall soon earn more."
+
+"Still, you ought to have something to begin
+the world with.  You shall pay me half the
+money, and I will cancel the note."
+
+"But, sir,----"
+
+"Not a word.  I am satisfied, and that is enough.
+If I hadn't lent your father the money,
+I might have invested it with the rest, and lost all."
+
+'Squire Conant produced the note from a
+little trunk of papers, and handed it to Paul,
+who paid him the amount which he had stipulated,
+expressing at the same time his gratitude
+for his unexpected generosity.
+
+"Never mind about thanks, my boy," said
+'Squire Conant:  "I am afraid I have loved
+money too well heretofore.  I hope I am not
+too old to turn over a new leaf."
+
+
+
+XXXIV.
+
+HOW PAUL GOES BACK TO WRENVILLE.
+
+
+While 'Squire Conant was speaking, Paul formed
+a sudden resolution.  He remembered that Aunt
+Lucy Lee was a sister of 'Squire Conant.  Perhaps,
+in his present frame of mind, it might be possible
+to induce him to do something for her.
+
+"I believe I am acquainted with a sister of yours,
+'Squire Conant," he commenced.
+
+"Ha!" exclaimed the 'Squire.
+
+"Mrs. Lucy Lee."
+
+"Yes," was the slow reply; "she is my sister.
+Where did you meet her?"
+
+"At the Wrenville Poorhouse."
+
+"How long ago?"
+
+"About six years since."
+
+"Is she there, still?"
+
+"Yes, sir.  Since I have been in New York,
+I have heard from her frequently.  I am going
+from here to visit her.  Have you any message,
+sir?  I am sure she would be glad to hear from you."
+
+"She shall hear from me," said the 'Squire
+in a low voice.  "Sit down, and I will write
+her a letter which, I hope, will not prove unwelcome."
+
+Five minutes afterwards he handed Paul an open letter.
+
+"You may read it," he said, abruptly.
+
+"You have been a better friend to my sister than I.
+You shall witness my late reparation."
+
+The letter was as follows:----
+MY DEAR SISTER:--   CEDARVILLE, JAN 13, 18--.
+
+I hope you will forgive me for my long neglect.
+It is not fitting that while I am possessed of abundant means
+you should longer remain the tenant of an almshouse.
+I send you by the bearer of this note, Paul Prescott,
+who, I understand, is a friend of yours, the sum
+of three hundred dollars.  The same sum will be sent
+you annually.  I hope it will be sufficient to maintain you
+comfortably.  I shall endeavor to call upon you soon,
+and meanwhile remain,   Your affectionate brother
+
+EZEKIEL CONANT.
+
+
+Paul read this letter with grateful joy.  It
+seemed almost to good to be true.  Aunt Lucy
+would be released from the petty tyranny of
+Mrs. Mudge's household, and perhaps--he felt
+almost sure Aunt Hester would be willing to
+receive her as a boarder, thus insuring her a
+peaceful and happy home in her declining years.
+
+"Oh, sir," said he, seizing 'Squire Conant's hand,
+"you cannot tell how happy you have made me."
+
+"It is what I ought to have done before. 
+Here is the money referred to in the letter,--
+three hundred dollars,--mind you don't lose it."
+
+"I will take every care, sir."
+
+"You may tell my sister that I shall be
+happy to have her write me."
+
+"I will, sir."
+
+Paul left 'Squire Conant's house, feeling
+that he had great cause for joy.  The 'Squire's
+refusal to receive more than half the debt,
+left him master of over three hundred dollars. 
+But I am not sure whether he did not rejoice
+even more over the good fortune which had
+come to Aunt Lucy Lee, whose kindness to him,
+in his unfriended boyhood, he would ever hold
+in grateful remembrance.  He enjoyed in
+anticipation the joy which he knew Aunt Lucy
+would feel when the change in her fortunes was
+communicated to her.  He knew also how great
+would be the chagrin of Mr. and Mrs. Mudge,
+when they found that the meek old lady whom
+they hated was about to be rescued from their
+clutches.  On the whole, Paul felt that this was
+the happiest day of his life.  It was a satisfaction
+to feel that the good fortune of his early
+friend was all due to his own intercession.
+
+He was able to take the cars to a point four
+miles distant from Wrenville.  On getting out
+on the platform he inquired whether there was
+a livery stable near by.  He was directed to
+one but a few rods distant.  Entering he asked,
+"Can you let me have a horse and chaise to go
+to Wrenville?"
+
+"Yes, sir," said the groom.
+
+"Let me have the best horse in the stable,"
+said Paul, "and charge me accordingly."
+
+"Yes, sir," said the groom, respectfully,
+judging from Paul's dress and tone that he was
+a young gentleman of fortune.
+
+A spirited animal was brought out, and Paul
+was soon seated in the chaise driving along the
+Wrenville road.  Paul's city friends would
+hardly have recognized their economical
+acquaintance in the well-dressed young man who
+now sat behind a fast horse, putting him
+through his best paces.  It might have been a
+weakness in Paul, but he remembered the manner
+in which he left Wrenville, an unfriended boy,
+compelled to fly from persecution under
+the cover of darkness, and he felt a certain
+pride in showing the Mudges that his circumstances
+were now entirely changed.  It was over this very road
+that he had walked with his little bundle,
+in the early morning, six years before.
+It seemed to him almost like a dream.
+
+At length he reached Wrenville.  Though he
+had not been there for six years, he recognized
+the places that had once been familiar to him. 
+But everything seemed to have dwindled.
+Accustomed to large city warehouses,
+the houses in the village seemed very diminutive.
+Even 'Squire Benjamin Newcome's house, which he
+had once regarded as a stately mansion,
+now looked like a very ordinary dwelling.
+
+As he rode up the main street of the village,
+many eyes were fixed upon him and his carriage,
+but no one thought of recognizing, in the
+well-dressed youth, the boy who had run away
+from the Wrenville Poorhouse.
+
+
+
+XXXV.
+
+CONCLUSION.
+
+
+At the very moment that Paul was driving
+through the village street, Mr. Nicholas Mudge
+entered the Poorhouse in high spirits.  Certainly
+ill-fortune must have befallen some one
+to make the good man so exhilarant.
+
+To explain, Mr. Mudge had just been to the
+village store to purchase some groceries.
+One of his parcels was tied up in a stray leaf
+of a recent New York Daily, in which he discovered
+an item which he felt sure would make Aunt
+Lucy unhappy.  He communicated it to Mrs.
+Mudge, who highly approved his design.  She
+called the old lady from the common room.
+
+"Here, Aunt Lucy," she said, "is something
+that will interest you."
+
+Aunt Lucy came in, wondering a little at
+such an unusual mark of attention.
+
+Mrs. Mudge immediately commenced reading
+with malicious emphasis a paragraph concerning
+a certain Paul Prescott, who had been
+arrested for thieving, and sentenced to the
+House of Reformation for a term of months.
+
+"There," said Mrs. Mudge, triumphantly,
+"what do you say to your favorite now? 
+Turned out well, hasn't he?  Didn't I always
+say so?  I always knew that boy was bad at heart,
+and that he'd come to a bad end."
+
+"I don't believe it's the same boy," declared
+Aunt Lucy, who was nevertheless unpleasantly
+affected by the paragraph.  She thought it
+possible that Paul might have yielded to a
+powerful temptation.
+
+"Perhaps you think I've been making it up. 
+If you don't believe it look at the paper for
+yourself," thrusting it into Aunt Lucy's hands. 
+
+"Yes," said the old lady.  "I see that the name
+is the same; but, for all that, there is a
+mistake somewhere.  I do not believe it is
+the same boy."
+
+"You don't?  Just as if there would be
+more than one boy of that name.  There may
+be other Prescotts, but there isn't but one
+Paul Prescott, take my word for it."
+
+"If it is he," said Aunt Lucy, indignantly,
+"is it Christianlike to rejoice over the poor
+boy's misfortune?"
+
+"Misfortune!" retorted Mrs. Mudge with a
+sneer; "you call it a misfortune to steal, then! 
+I call it a crime."
+
+"It's often misfortune that drives people to
+it, though," continued the old lady, looking
+keenly at Mrs. Mudge.  "I have known cases
+where they didn't have that excuse."
+
+Mrs. Mudge colored.
+
+"Go back to your room," said she, sharply;
+"and don't stay here accusing me and Mr.
+Mudge of unchristian conduct.  You're the
+most troublesome pauper we have on our
+hands; and I do wish the town would provide
+for you somewhere else."
+
+"So do I," sighed the old lady to herself,
+though she did not think fit to give audible
+voice to her thoughts.
+
+It was at this moment that Paul halted his
+chaise at the gate, and lightly jumping out,
+fastened his horse to a tree, and walked up
+to the front door.
+
+"Who can it be?" thought Mrs. Mudge, hastily
+adjusting her cap, and taking off her apron.
+
+"I don't know, I'm sure," said Mr. Mudge,
+unsuspiciously.
+
+"I declare!  I look like a fright."
+
+"No worse than usual," said her husband, gallantly.
+
+By this time Paul had knocked.
+
+Good-morning, sir," said Mrs. Mudge, deferentially,
+her respect excited by Paul's dress and handsome chaise.
+
+"Is Mrs. Lee in?" inquired Paul, not caring
+to declare himself, yet, to his old enemy.
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Mudge, obsequiously, though not
+overpleased to find that this was Aunt Lucy's
+visitor; "would you like to see her?"
+
+"If you please."
+
+"What can he want of the old lady?" thought Mrs. Mudge,
+as she went to summon her.
+
+"A visitor for me?" asked Aunt Lucy, looking
+at Mrs. Mudge somewhat suspiciously.
+
+"Yes; and as he's come in a carriage, you'd better
+slick up a little; put on a clean cap or something."
+
+Aunt Lucy was soon ready.
+
+She looked wonderingly at Paul, not recognizing him.
+
+"You are not very good at remembering your old friends,"
+said Paul, with a smile.
+
+"What!" exclaimed Aunt Lucy, her face
+lighting up with joy; "are you little Paul?"
+
+"Not very little, now," said our hero, laughing;
+"but I'm the same Paul you used to know."
+
+Mrs. Mudge, who through the half open door
+had heard this revelation, was overwhelmed with
+astonishment and confusion.  She hurried to her husband.
+
+"Wonders will never cease!" she exclaimed,
+holding up both hands.  "If that doesn't turn out
+to be Paul Prescott.  Of course he's up in the world,
+or he wouldn't dress so well, and ride in such
+a handsome carriage."
+
+"You don't say so!" returned Mr. Mudge, who
+looked as if he had heard of a heavy misfortune.
+
+"Yes, I do; I heard him say so with his own lips.
+It's a pity you showed that paragraph to Aunt Lucy,
+this morning."
+
+"That you showed, you mean," retorted her husband.
+
+"No, I don't.  You know it was you that did it."
+
+"Hush; they'll hear."
+
+Meanwhile the two friends were conversing together happily.
+
+"I'm so glad you're doing so well, Paul," said Aunt Lucy.
+"It was a lucky day when you left the Poorhouse behind you."
+
+"Yes, Aunt Lucy, and to-day is a lucky day for you. 
+There's room for two in that chaise, and I'm going
+to take you away with me."
+
+"I should enjoy a ride, Paul.  It's a long time
+since I have taken one."
+
+"You don't understand me.  You're going away
+not to return."
+
+The old lady smiled sadly.
+
+"No, no, Paul.  I can't consent to become a burden
+upon your generosity.  You can't afford it,
+and it will not be right."
+
+"O," said Paul, smiling, "you give me credit for
+too much.  I mean that you shall pay your board."
+
+"But you know I have no money."
+
+"No, I don't.  I don't consider that a lady is penniless,
+who has an income of three hundred dollars a year."
+
+"I don't understand you, Paul."
+
+"Then, perhaps you will understand this," said
+our hero, enjoying the old lady's astonishment.
+
+He drew from his pocket a roll of bills, and passed
+them to Aunt Lucy.
+
+The old lady looked so bewildered, that he lost
+no time in explaining the matter to her.  Then,
+indeed, Aunt Lucy was happy; not only because she
+had become suddenly independent, but, because
+after years of coldness and estrangement, her
+brother had at last become reconciled to her.
+
+"Now, Aunt Lucy," resumed Paul, "I'll tell you
+what my plans are.  You shall get into the chaise
+with me, and go at once to New York.  I think
+Aunt Hester will be willing to receive you as a boarder;
+if not, I will find you a pleasant place near by.
+Will that suit you?"
+
+"It will make me very happy; but I cannot realize it.
+It seems like a dream."
+
+At this moment Mrs. Mudge entered the room, and,
+after a moment's scrutiny, pretended to recognize Paul.
+Her husband followed close behind her.
+
+"Can I believe my eyes?" she exclaimed.
+"Is this indeed Paul Prescott?
+I am very glad to see you back."
+
+"Only a visit, Mrs. Mudge," said Paul, smiling.
+
+"You'll stop to dinner, I hope?"
+
+Paul thought of the soup and dry bread which he
+used to find so uninviting, and said that he should
+not have time to do so.
+
+"We've thought of you often," said Mr. Mudge,
+writhing his harsh features into a smile.  "There's
+scarcely a day that we haven't spoken of you."
+
+"I ought to feel grateful for your remembrance,"
+said Paul, his eyes twinkling with mirth.  "But I
+don't think, Mr. Mudge, you always thought so much of me."
+
+Mr. Mudge coughed in some embarrassment, and not
+thinking of anything in particular to say, said nothing.
+
+"I am going to take from you another of your boarders,"
+said Paul.  "Can you spare Aunt Lucy?"
+
+"For how long?" asked Mrs. Mudge.
+
+"For all the time.  She has just come into
+possession of a little property,--several hundred
+dollars a year,--and I have persuaded her to go to
+New York to board."
+
+"Is this true?" exclaimed Mrs. Mudge in astonishment.
+
+"Yes," said the old lady, "God has been bountiful to me
+when I least expected it."
+
+"Can I be of any service in assisting you to pack up, Mrs.
+Lee?" asked Mrs. Mudge, with new-born politeness.  She felt
+that as a lady of property, Aunt Lucy was entitled to much
+greater respect and deference than before.
+
+"Thank you, Mrs. Mudge," said Paul, answering for her.
+
+"She won't have occasion for anything in this house.
+She will get a supply of new things when she gets to New York.
+
+The old lady looked very happy, and Mrs. Mudge, in spite of
+her outward deference, felt thoroughly provoked at her good fortune.
+
+I will not dwell upon the journey to New York.  Aunt Lucy,
+though somewhat fatigued, bore it much better than she had
+anticipated.  Mr. and Mrs. Cameron entered very heartily into
+Paul's plans, and readily agreed to receive Aunt Lucy as an
+inmate of their happy and united household.  The old lady felt
+it to be a happy and blessed change from the Poorhouse, where
+scanty food and poor accommodations had been made harder
+to bear by the ill temper of Mr. and Mrs. Mudge, to a home
+whose atmosphere was peace and kindness.
+
+----
+
+
+And now, dear reader, it behooves us to draw together the
+different threads of our story, and bring all to a satisfactory
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Mudge are no longer in charge of the Wrenville
+Poorhouse.  After Aunt Lucy's departure, Mrs. Mudge became
+so morose and despotic, that her rule became intolerable.
+Loud complaints came to the ears of 'Squire Newcome, Chairman
+of the Overseers of the Poor.  One fine morning he was compelled
+to ride over and give the interesting couple warning to leave
+immediately.  Mr. Mudge undertook the charge of a farm, but
+his habits of intoxication increased upon him to such an extent,
+that he was found dead one winter night, in a snow-drift,
+between his own house and the tavern.  Mrs. Mudge was not
+extravagant in her expressions of grief, not having a very strong
+affection for her husband.  At last accounts, she was keeping
+a boarding-house in a manufacturing town.  Some time since,
+her boarders held an indignation meeting, and threatened to
+leave in a body unless she improved her fare,--a course to
+which she was obliged to submit.
+
+George Dawkins, unable to obtain a recommendation from
+Mr. Danforth, did not succeed in securing another place in
+New York.  He finally prevailed upon his father to advance him
+a sum of money, with which he went to California.  Let us hope
+that he may "turn over a new leaf" there, and establish a
+better reputation than he did in New York.
+
+Mr. Stubbs is still in the tin business.  He is as happy as the
+day is long, and so are his wife and children.  Once a year he
+comes to New York and pays Paul a visit.  This supplies him
+with something to talk about for the rest of the year.  He is
+frugal in his expenses, and is able to lay up a couple of hundred
+dollars every year, which he confides to Paul, in whose financial
+skill he has the utmost confidence.
+
+I am sure my boy readers would not forgive me for omitting
+to tell them something more about Ben Newcome.  Although
+his mirthful spirit sometimes led him into mischief, he was
+good-hearted, and I have known him do many an act of kindness,
+even at considerable trouble to himself.  It will be
+remembered that in consequence of his night adventure, during
+which he personated a ghost, much to the terror of Mr. Mudge
+his father determined to send him to a military school.  This
+proved to be a wise arrangement.  The discipline was such as
+Ben needed, and he soon distinguished himself by his excellence
+in the military drill.  Soon after he graduated, the Rebellion
+broke out, and Ben was at once, in spite of his youth, elected
+Captain of the Wrenville company.  At the battle of Antiatam
+he acquitted himself with so much credit that he was promoted
+to a major.  He was again promoted, and when Richmond was
+evacuated, he was one of the first officers to enter the streets
+of the Rebel capital, a colonel in command of his regiment.  I
+have heard on high authority, that he is considered one of the
+best officers in the service.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Cameron are still living.  They are happy in
+the success and increasing prosperity of Paul, whom they regard
+as a son.  Between them and Aunt Lucy he would stand
+a very fair chance of being spoiled, if his own good sense and
+good judgment were not sufficient to save him from such a
+misfortune. Paul is now admitted to a small interest in the
+firm, which entitles him to a share in the profits.  As Danforth
+and Co. have done a very extensive business of late years, this
+interest brings him in a very handsome income.  There is only
+one cause of difference between him and the sexton.  He insists
+that Uncle Hugh, who is getting infirm, should resign his office,
+as he is abundantly able to support the whole family.  But the
+good sexton loves his duties, and will continue to discharge
+them as long as he is able.
+
+And now we must bid farewell to Paul.  He has battled
+bravely with the difficulties and discouragements that beset
+him in early life, he has been faithful to the charge which he
+voluntarily assumed, and his father's memory is free from
+reproach.  He often wishes that his father could have lived to
+witness his prosperity? but God has decreed it otherwise. 
+Happy in the love of friends, and in the enjoyment of all that
+can make life desirable, so far as external circumstances have
+that power, let us all wish him God speed!
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Etext of Paul Prescott's Charge
+
+
+
+
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