Paul Prescott's Charge by Jr. Horatio Alger (best short novels of all time .txt) 📖
- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
Book online «Paul Prescott's Charge by Jr. Horatio Alger (best short novels of all time .txt) 📖». Author Jr. Horatio Alger
She was right, as she saw at a glance. It was from Paul.
“Now I'll see what the little rascal has to say for himself,” she muttered, “I hope he's in distress; oh, how I'd like to get hold of him.”
Mrs. Mudge began eagerly to read the letter, not dreaming of interruption. But she was destined to be disappointed. To account for this we must explain that, shortly after Mrs. Mudge looked into the common room, Aunt Lucy was reminded of something essential, which she had left upstairs. She accordingly laid down her work upon the chair in which she had been sitting, and went up to her chamber.
Mrs. Mudge was too much preoccupied to hear the advancing steps.
As the old lady entered the chamber, what was her mingled indignation and dismay at seeing Mrs. Mudge on her knees before her chest, with the precious letter, whose arrival had gladdened her so much, in her hands.
“What are you doing there, Mrs. Mudge?” she said, sternly.
Mrs. Mudge rose from her knees in confusion. Even she had the grace to be ashamed of her conduct.
“Put down that letter,” said the old lady in an authoritative voice quite new to her.
Mrs. Mudge, who had not yet collected her scattered senses, did as she was requested.
Aunt Lucy walked hastily to the chest, and closed it, first securing the letter, which she put in her pocket.
“I hope it will be safe, now,” she said, rather contemptuously. “Ain't you ashamed of yourself, Mrs. Mudge?”
“Ashamed of myself!” shrieked that amiable lady, indignant with herself for having quailed for a moment before the old lady.
“What do you mean—you—you pauper?”
“I may be a pauper,” said Aunt Lucy, calmly, “But I am thankful to say that I mind my own business, and don't meddle with other people's chests.”
A red spot glowed on either cheek of Mrs. Mudge. She was trying hard to find some vantage-ground over the old lady.
“Do you mean to say that I don't mind my business?” she blustered, folding her arms defiantly.
“What were you at my trunk for?” said the old lady, significantly.
“Because it was my duty,” was the brazen reply.
Mrs. Mudge had rapidly determined upon her line of defense, and thought it best to carry the war into the enemy's country.
“Yes, I felt sure that your letter was from Paul Prescott, and as he ran away from my husband and me, who were his lawful guardians, it was my duty to take that means of finding out where he is. I knew that you were in league with him, and would do all you could to screen him. This is why I went to your chest, and I would do it again, if necessary.”
“Perhaps you have been before,” said Aunt Lucy, scornfully. “I think I understand, now, why you were unwilling to give me another key. Fortunately there has been nothing there until now to reward your search.”
“You impudent trollop!” shrieked Mrs. Mudge, furiously.
Her anger was the greater, because Aunt Lucy was entirely correct in her supposition that this was not the first visit her landlady had made to the little green chest.
“I'll give Paul the worst whipping he ever had, when I get him back,” said Mrs. Mudge, angrily.
“He is beyond your reach, thank Providence,” said Aunt Lucy, whose equanimity was not disturbed by this menace, which she knew to be an idle one. “That is enough for you to know. I will take care that you never have another chance to see this letter. And if you ever go to my chest again”—
“Well, ma'am, what then?”
“I shall appeal for protection to 'Squire Newcome.”
“Hoity, toity,” said Mrs. Mudge, but she was a little alarmed, nevertheless, as such an appeal would probably be prejudicial to her interest.
So from time to time Aunt Lucy received, through Ben, letters from Paul, which kept her acquainted with his progress at school. These letters were very precious to the old lady, and she read them over many times. They formed a bright link of interest which bound her to the outside world, and enabled her to bear up with greater cheerfulness against the tyranny of Mrs. Mudge.
XX. PAUL OBTAINS A SITUATION.
The month after Paul Prescott succeeded in reaching the head of his class, George Dawkins exerted himself to rise above him. He studied better than usual, and proved in truth a formidable rival. But Paul's spirit was roused. He resolved to maintain his position if possible. He had now become accustomed to study, and it cost him less effort. When the end of the month came, there was considerable speculation in the minds of the boys as to the result of the rivalry. The majority had faith in Paul, but there were some who, remembering how long Dawkins had been at the head of the class, thought he would easily regain his lost rank.
The eventful day, the first of the month, at length came, and the class-list was read.
Paul Prescott ranked first.
George Dawkins ranked second.
A flush spread over the pale face of Dawkins, and he darted a malignant glance at Paul, who was naturally pleased at having retained his rank.
Dawkins had his satellites. One of these came to him at recess, and expressed his regret that Dawkins had failed of success.
Dawkins repelled the sympathy with cold disdain.
“What do you suppose I care for the head of the class?” he demanded, haughtily.
“I thought you had been studying for it.”
“Then you thought wrong. Let the sexton's son have it, if he wants it. It would be of no use to me, as I leave this school at the end of the week.”
“Leave school!”
The boys gathered about Dawkins, curiously.
“Is it really so, Dawkins?” they inquired.
“Yes,” said Dawkins, with an air of importance; “I shall go to a private school, where the advantages are greater than here. My father does not wish me to attend a public school any longer.”
This statement was made on the spur of the moment, to cover the mortification which his defeat had occasioned him. It proved true, however. On his return home, Dawkins succeeded in persuading his father to transfer him to a private school, and he took away his books at the end
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