“Just come up and see.”

Mrs. Mudge did come up.  Her husband pointed to the empty bed.

“What do you think of that?” he asked.

“What about it?” she inquired, not quite comprehending.

“About that boy, Paul.  When I called him I got no answer, so I came up, and behold he is among the missing.”

“You don’t think he’s run away, do you?” asked Mrs. Mudge startled.

“That is more than I know.”

“I’ll see if his clothes are here,” said his wife, now fully aroused.

Her search was unavailing.  Paul’s clothes had disappeared as mysteriously as their owner.

“It’s a clear case,” said Mr. Mudge, shaking his head; “he’s gone.  I wouldn’t have lost him for considerable.  He was only a boy, but I managed to get as much work out of him as a man.  The question is now, what shall we do about it?”

“He must be pursued,” said Mrs. Mudge, with vehemence, “I’ll have him back if it costs me twenty dollars.  I’ll tell you what, husband,” she exclaimed, with a sudden light breaking in upon her, “if there’s anybody in this house knows where he’s gone, it is Aunt Lucy Lee.  Only last week I caught her knitting him a pair of stockings.  I might have known what it meant if I hadn’t been a fool.”

“Ha, ha!  So you might, if you hadn’t been a fool!” echoed a mocking voice.

Turning with sudden anger, Mrs. Mudge beheld the face of the crazy girl peering up at her from below.

This turned her thoughts into a different channel.

“I’ll teach you what I am,” she exclaimed, wrathfully descending the stairs more rapidly than she had mounted them, “and if you know anything about the little scamp, I’ll have it out of you.”

The girl narrowly succeeded in eluding the grasp of her pursuer.  But, alas! for Mrs. Mudge.  In her impetuosity she lost her footing, and fell backward into a pail of water which had been brought up the night before and set in the entry for purposes of ablution.  More wrathful than ever, Mrs. Mudge bounced into her room and sat down in her dripping garments in a very uncomfortable frame of mind.  As for Paul, she felt a personal dislike for him, and was not sorry on some accounts to have him out of the house.  The knowledge, however, that he had in a manner defied her authority by running away, filled her with an earnest desire to get him back, if only to prove that it was not to be defied with impunity.

Hoping to elicit some information from Aunt Lucy, who, she felt sure, was in Paul’s confidence, she paid her a visit.

“Well, here’s a pretty goings on,” she commenced, abruptly.  Finding that Aunt Lucy manifested no curiosity on the subject, she continued, in a significant tone, “Of course, you don’t know anything about it.”

“I can tell better when I know what you refer to,” said the old lady calmly.

“Oh, you are very ignorant all at once.  I suppose you didn’t know Paul Prescott had run away?”