Paul was sick for many days,--not dangerously so, but hard work and scanty fare had weakened him to such a degree that exhausted nature required time to recruit its wasted forces. But he was not unhappy or restless. Hour after hour he would lie patiently, and listen to the clicking of her knitting needles. Though not provided with luxurious food, Dr. Townsend had spoken with so much plainness that Mrs. Mudge felt compelled to modify her treatment, lest, through his influence, she with her husband, might lose their situation. This forced forbearance, however, was far from warming her heart towards its object. Mrs. Mudge was a hard, practical woman, and her heart was so encrusted with worldliness and self-interest that she might as well have been without one. One day, as Paul lay quietly gazing at Aunt Lucy's benevolent face, and mentally contrasting it with that of Mrs. Mudge, whose shrill voice could be heard form below, he was seized with a sudden desire to learn something of her past history. “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--