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 largestout woman, in a faded calico dress, and sleeves rolled up, working asif her life or the world's destiny depended upon it.
It was evident from the first words of Mr. Mudge that this lady was hishelpmeet.
"Well, wife," he said, "I've brought you another boarder. You must tryto 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 bejocular.
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 nexttime."
"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 youraccommodations?" 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'soccupied just now. We'd have got it ready for you if you'd only wrote aweek ago to tell us you were coming. You can just stay round here," hesaid in a different tone as he was about leaving the room, "Mrs. Mudgewill maybe want you to do something for her. You can sit down till shecalls on you."
It was washing day with Mrs. Mudge, and of course she was extremelybusy. The water was to be brought from a well in the yard, and to thisoffice Paul was at once delegated. It was no easy task, the full pailstugging most unmercifully at his arms. However, this was soon over, andMrs. 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 wasprevented by mental aberration from supporting herself outside the wallsof the Institution.
Of all present, Paul's attention was most strongly attracted towards onewho appeared more neatly and scrupulously attired than any of the rest.
Aunt Lucy Lee, or plain Aunt Lucy, for in her present abode she hadsmall use for her last name, was a benevolent-looking old lady, who bothin dress and manners was distinguished from her companions. She rosefrom her knitting, and kindly took Paul by the hand. Children areinstinctive readers of character, and Paul, after one glance at herbenevolent face, seated himself contentedly beside her.
"I suppose," said the old lady, socially, "you've come to live withus. We must do all we can to make you comfortable. Your name is PaulPrescott, I think Mrs. Mudge said."
"Yes, ma'am," answered Paul, watching the rapid movement of the oldlady'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. Isuppose you have hardly been here long enough to tell how you shall likeit."
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 veryattractive 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 themvery little."
Aunt Lucy's remarks were here interrupted by the apparition of theworthy landlady at the door.
"Dinner's ready, folks," said that lady, with little ceremony, "and youmust come out quick if you want any, for I'm drove with work, and can'tbe hindered long."
The summons was obeyed with alacrity, and the company made all haste tothe dining-room, or rather the kitchen, for it was here that the mealswere eaten.
In the center of the room was set a table without a cloth, a table-clothbeing considered a luxury quite superfluous. Upon this were placedseveral bowls of thin, watery liquid, intended for soup, but which, likecity milk, was diluted so as hardly to be distinguishable. Beside eachbowl was a slice of bread.
Such was the bill of fare.
"Now, folks, the sooner you fall to the better," exclaimed the energeticMrs. Mudge, who was one of those driving characters, who consider anytime spent at the table beyond ten minutes as so much time wasted.
The present company appeared to need no second invitation. Theirscanty 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 notsufficiently accustomed to Poor House regime to enable him to relish itsstanding dish, and he laid down his spoon with a disappointed look.
He next attacked the crust of bread, but found it too dry to bepalatable.
"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, insheer amazement.
"What did you ask for?" she inquired, as if to make sure that her earsdid not deceive her.
"A little butter," repeated Paul, unconscious of the great presumptionof which he had been guilty.
"You want butter, do you?" repeated Mr. Mudge. "Perhaps you'd like aslice of beefsteak and a piece of plum-pudding too, wouldn't you?"
"I should very much," said Paul, resolved to tell the truth, although henow 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 atlength to her pentup indignation. "You'll be contented with butter androast beef and plum-pudding! A mighty fine gentleman, to be sure. Butyou 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 greathotels. Butter, forsooth!"
Having thus given expression to her feelings, she left the room, andPaul was left to finish his dinner with the best appetite he couldcommand. He was conscious that he had offended Mrs. Mudge, but thethoughts of his recent great sorrow swallowed up all minor annoyances,so that the words of his estimable landlady were forgotten almost assoon as they were uttered. He felt that he must henceforth look for fardifferent treatment from that to which he had been accustomed during hisfather's lifetime.
His thoughts were interrupted in a manner somewhat ludicrous, by thecrazy girl who sat next to him coolly appropriating to herself his bowlof soup, having already disposed of her own.
"Look," said Aunt Lucy, quickly, calling Paul's attention, "you arelosing your dinner."
"Never mind," said Paul, amused in spite of his sadness, "she is quitewelcome to it if she likes it; I can't eat it."
So the dinner began and ended. It was very brief and simple, occupyingless than ten minutes, and comprising only one course--unless the soupwas considered the first course, and the bread the second. Paul leftthe table as hungry as he came to it. Aunt Lucy's appetite had becomeaccustomed to the Mudge diet, and she wisely ate what was set beforeher, knowing that there was no hope of anything better.
About an hour after dinner Ben Newcome came to the door of the PoorHouse 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.
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"Who is your father?" asked Mrs. Mudge, for she did not recognize hervisitor.
"My father's name is Newcome--Squire Newcome, some call him."
Now it so happened that Squire Newcome was Chairman of the Overseers ofthe Poor, and in that capacity might remove Mr. Mudge from office if hepleased. Accordingly Mrs. Mudge softened down at once, on learning thatBen was his son.
"Oh," said she, "I didn't know who it was. I thought it might be someidle boy from the village who would only take Paul from his work, but ifyou have a message from your father----"
This she said to ascertain whether he really had any message or not, butBen, 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 hisgayety, spiced though it was with roguery, had made himself a generalfavorite 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 regularspitfire, isn't she?"
"Rather so."
"I only wish the old gentleman--meaning of course, the Squire--wouldtake 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 comefrom 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 objectionto Paul's taking a walk with me while I deliver the message I amentrusted with."
"Certainly," said Mrs. Mudge, rather unwillingly, but not venturing torefuse.
"It takes me to come it over the old lady," said Ben, when they were outof hearing.
"Now, we'll go a fishing."