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?” “I am not surprised,” said the old lady, in the same quiet manner. Mrs. Mudge had expected a show of astonishment, and this calmness disconcerted her. “You are not surprised!” she retorted. “I presume not, since you knew all about it beforehand. That's why you were knitting him some stockings. Deny it, if you dare.” “I have no disposition to deny it.” “You haven't!” exclaimed the questioner, almost struck dumb with this audacity. “No,” said Aunt Lucy. “Why should I? There was no particular inducement for him to stay here. Wherever he goes, I hope he will meet with good friends and good treatment.” “As much as to say he didn't find them here. Is that what you mean?” “I have no charges to bring.” “But I have,” said Mrs. Mudge, her eyes lighting with malicious satisfaction. “Last night you missed a ten-dollar gold piece, which you saw was stolen from you. This morning it appears that Paul Prescott has run away. I charge him with the theft.” “You do not, can not believe this,” said the old lady, uneasily. “Of course I do,” returned Mrs. Mudge, triumphantly, perceiving her advantage. “I have no doubt of it, and when we get the boy back, he shall be made to confess it.”