Paul Prescott's Charge by Jr. Horatio Alger (best fiction novels to read TXT) 📕

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.