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
