Paul Prescott's Charge, Jr. Horatio Alger [popular romance novels TXT] 📗

“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