“How long have you been here, Aunt Lucy?” he inquired.

She looked up from her knitting, and sighed as she answered, “A long and weary time to look back upon, Paul.  I have been here ten years.”

“Ten years,” repeated Paul, thoughtfully, “and I am thirteen.  So you have been here nearly all my lifetime.  Has Mr. Mudge been here all that time?”

“Only the last two years.  Before that we had Mrs. Perkins.”

“Did she treat you any better than Mrs. Mudge?”

“Any better than Mrs. Mudge!” vociferated that lady, who had ascended the stairs without being heard by Aunt Lucy of Paul, and had thus caught the last sentence.  “Any better than Mrs. Mudge!” she repeated, thoroughly provoked.  “So you’ve been talking about me, you trollop, have you?  I’ll come up with you, you may depend upon that.  That’s to pay for my giving you tea Sunday night, is it?  Perhaps you’ll get some more.  It’s pretty well in paupers conspiring together because they aint treated like princes and princesses.  Perhaps you’d like to got boarded with Queen Victoria.”

The old lady sat very quiet during this tirade.  She had been the subject of similar invective before, and knew that it would do no good to oppose Mrs. Mudge in her present excited state.

“I don’t wonder you haven’t anything to say,” said the infuriated dame.  “I should think you’d want to hide your face in shame, you trollop.”

Paul was not quite so patient as his attendant.  Her kindness had produced such an impression on him, that Mrs. Mudge, by her taunts, stirred up his indignation.

“She’s no more of a trollop than you are,” said he, with spirit.

Mrs. Mudge whirled round at this unexpected attack, and shook her fist menacingly at Paul—­

“So, you’ve put in your oar, you little jackanapes,” said she, “If you’re well enough to be impudent you’re well enough to go to work.  You aint a goin’ to lie here idle much longer, I can tell you.  If you deceive Dr. Townsend, and make him believe you’re sick, you can’t deceive me.  No doubt you feel mighty comfortable, lyin’ here with nothing to do, while I’m a slavin’ myself to death down stairs, waitin’ upon you; (this was a slight exaggeration, as Aunt Lucy took the entire charge of Paul, including the preparation of his food;) but you’d better make the most of it, for you won’t lie here much longer.  You’ll miss not bein’ able to talk about me, won’t you?”

Mrs. Mudge paused a moment as if expecting an answer to her highly sarcastic question, but Paul felt that no advantage would be gained by saying more..  He was not naturally a quick-tempered buy, and had only been led to this little ebullition by the wanton attack by Mrs. Mudge.

This lady, after standing a moment as if defying the twain to a further contest, went out, slamming the door violently after her.

“You did wrong to provoke her, Paul,” said Aunt Lucy, gravely.