“She's got a sweet temper,” said Paul, in a whisper, to Aunt Lucy. “Hush!” said the old lady. “She may hear you.” “What's that you're whispering about?” said Mrs. Mudge, suspiciously. “Something you're ashamed to have heard, most likely.” Paul thought it best to remain silent. “To-morrow morning at four!” he whispered to Aunt Lucy, as he pressed her hand in the darkness. VII. PAUL BEGINS HIS JOURNEY. Paul ascended the stairs to his hard pallet for the last time. For the last time! There is sadness in the thought, even when the future which lies before us glows with brighter colors than the past has ever worn. But to Paul, whose future was veiled in uncertainty, and who was about to part with the only friend who felt an interest in his welfare, this thought brought increased sorrow. He stood before the dirt-begrimed window through which alone the struggling sunbeams found an inlet into the gloomy little attic, and looked wistfully out upon the barren fields that surrounded the poorhouse. Where would he be on the morrow at that time? He did not know. He knew little or nothing of the great world without, yet his resolution did not for an instant falter. If it had, the thought of Mrs. Mudge would have been enough to remove all his hesitation. He threw himself on his hard bed, and a few minutes brought him that dreamless sleep which comes so easily to the young. Meanwhile Aunt Lucy, whose thoughts were also occupied with Paul's approaching departure, had taken from the pocket of her OTHER dress--for she had but two--something wrapped in a piece of brown paper. One by one she removed the many folds in which it was enveloped, and came at length to the contents. It was a coin. “Paul will need some money, poor boy,” said she, softly to herself, “I will give him this. It will never do me any good, and it may be of some service to him.” So saying she looked carefully at the coin in the moonlight. But what made her start, and utter a half exclamation? Instead of the gold eagle, the accumulation of many years, which she had been saving for some extraordinary occasion like the presents she held in her hand--a copper cent. “I have been robbed,” she exclaimed indignantly in the suddenness of her surprise. “What's the matter now?” inquired Mrs Mudge, appearing at the door, “Why are you not in bed, Aunt Lucy Lee? How dare you disobey my orders?” “I have been robbed,” exclaimed the old lady in unwonted excitement. “Of what, pray?” asked Mrs. Mudge, with a sneer. “I had a gold eagle wrapped up in that paper,” returned Aunt Lucy, pointing to the fragments on the floor, “and now, to-night, when I come to open it, I find but this cent.” “A likely story,” retorted Mrs. Mudge, “very likely, indeed, that a common pauper should have a gold eagle. If you found a cent in the paper, most likely that's what you put there. You're growing old and forgetful, so don't get foolish and flighty. You'd better go to bed.”