“I thought it might be so from his manner,” said Ben, enjoying Mrs. Mudge’s evident alarm.

“There was a little accident,” said Mrs. Mudge, reluctantly.  “Some mischievous boy had been knocking and running away; so, when your father knocked, I thought it might be he, and—­and I believe I threw some water on him.  But I hope he has forgiven it, as it wasn’t intentional.  I should like to get hold of that boy,” said Mrs. Mudge, wrathfully, “I should like to shake him up.”

“Have you any idea who it was?” asked Ben, gravely.

“No,” said Mrs. Mudge, “I haven’t, but I shall try to find out.  Whoever it is, he’s a scamp.”

“Very complimentary old lady,” thought Ben.  He said in a sober tone, which would have imposed upon any one, “There are a good many mischievous boys around here.”

Mrs. Mudge grimly assented.

“Oh, by the way, Mrs. Mudge,” asked Ben, suddenly, “have you ever heard anything of Paul Prescott since he left you?”

“No,” snapped Mrs. Mudge, her countenance growing dark, “I haven’t.  But I can tell pretty well where he is.”

“Where?”

“In the penitentiary.  At any rate, if he isn’t, he ought to be.  But what was you wanting?”

“I want to see Mrs. Lee.”

“Aunt Lucy Lee?”

“Yes.  I’ve got a letter for her.”

“If you’ll give me the letter I’ll carry it to her.”

“Thank you,” said Ben, “but I would like to see her.”

“Never mind,” thought Mrs. Mudge, “I’ll get hold of it yet.  I shouldn’t wonder at all if it was from that rascal, Paul.”

Poor Paul!  It was fortunate that he had some better friends than Mr. and
Mrs. Mudge, otherwise he would have been pretty poorly off.

Aunt Lucy came to the door.  Ben placed the letter in her hands.

“Is it from Paul?” she asked, hopefully.

“Yes,” said Ben.

She opened it eagerly.  “Is he well?” she asked.

“Yes, well and happy,” said Ben, who treated the old lady, for whom he had much respect, very differently from Mrs. Mudge.

“I’m truly thankful for that,” said Aunt Lucy; “I’ve laid awake more than one night thinking of him.”

“So has Mrs. Mudge, I’m thinking,” said Ben, slyly.

Aunt Lucy laughed.

“There isn’t much love lost between them,” said Aunt Lucy, smiling.  “He was very badly treated here, poor boy.”

“Was he, though?” repeated Mrs. Mudge? who had been listening at the keyhole, but not in an audible voice.  “Perhaps he will be again, if I get him back.  I thought that letter was from Paul.  I must get hold of it some time to-day.”

“I believe I must go,” said Ben.  “If you answer the letter, I will put it into the office for you.  I shall be passing here to-morrow.”

“You are very kind,” said Aunt Lucy.  “I am very much obliged to you for bringing me this letter to-day.  You can’t tell how happy it makes me.  I have been so afraid the dear boy might be suffering.”