“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!