At first, Mr. Mudge thought it might be in consequence of Paul's sleeping so soundly, but on listening attentively, he could not distinguish the deep and regular breathing which usually accompanies such slumber. “He must be sullen,” he concluded, with a feeling of irritation. “If he is, I'll teach him----” Without taking time to finish the sentence, he bounded up the rickety staircase, and turned towards the bed with the intention of giving our hero a smart shaking. He looked with astonishment at the empty bed. “Is it possible,” he thought, “that Paul has already got up? He isn't apt to do so before he is called.” At this juncture, Mrs. Mudge, surprised at her husband's prolonged absence, called from below, “Mr. Mudge!” “Well, wife?” “What in the name of wonder keeps you up there so long?” “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.”