"Oh, you're putting on your airs, are you? I'll tell you what, Madam,
you'd better put those stockings away in double-quick time, and finish
my husband's, or I'll throw them into the fire, and Paul Prescott may
wait till he goes barefoot before he gets them."

There was no alternative. Aunt Lucy was obliged to obey, at least while
her persecutor was in the room. When alone for any length of time she
took out Paul's stockings from under her apron, and worked on them till
the approaching steps of Mrs. Mudge warned her to desist.

*****


Three days passed. The shadows of twilight were already upon the earth.
The paupers were collected in the common room appropriated to their use.
Aunt Lucy had suspended her work in consequence of the darkness, for
in this economical household a lamp was considered a useless piece of
extravagance. Paul crept quietly to her side, and whispered in tones
audible to her alone, "I AM GOING TO-MORROW."

"To-morrow! so soon?"

"Yes," said Paul, "I am as ready now as I shall ever be. I wanted to
tell you, because I thought maybe you might like to know that this is
the last evening we shall spend together at present."

"Do you go in the morning?"

"Yes, Aunt Lucy, early in the morning. Mr. Mudge usually calls me at