will maybe want you to do something for her. You can sit down till she
calls on you."

It was washing day with Mrs. Mudge, and of course she was extremely
busy. The water was to be brought from a well in the yard, and to this
office Paul was at once delegated. It was no easy task, the full pails
tugging most unmercifully at his arms. However, this was soon over, and
Mrs. Mudge graciously gave him permission to go into the adjoining room,
and make acquaintance with his fellow-boarders.

There were nine of them in all, Paul, the newcomer making the tenth.
They were all advanced in years, except one young woman, who was
prevented by mental aberration from supporting herself outside the walls
of the Institution.

Of all present, Paul's attention was most strongly attracted towards one
who appeared more neatly and scrupulously attired than any of the rest.

Aunt Lucy Lee, or plain Aunt Lucy, for in her present abode she had
small use for her last name, was a benevolent-looking old lady, who both
in dress and manners was distinguished from her companions. She rose
from her knitting, and kindly took Paul by the hand. Children are
instinctive readers of character, and Paul, after one glance at her
benevolent face, seated himself contentedly beside her.

"I suppose," said the old lady, socially, "you've come to live with
us. We must do all we can to make you comfortable. Your name is Paul
Prescott, I think Mrs. Mudge said."

"Yes, ma'am," answered Paul, watching the rapid movement of the old