and of my mother, and that thought shall restrain me."

"It's time to go bed, folks," proclaimed Mrs Mudge, appearing at the
door. "I can't have you sitting up all night, as I've no doubt you'd
like to do."

It was only eight o'clock, but no one thought of interposing an
objection. The word of Mrs. Mudge was law in her household, as even her
husband was sometimes made aware.

All quietly rose from their seats and repaired to bed. It was an
affecting sight to watch the tottering gait of those on whose heads the
snows of many winters had drifted heavily, as they meekly obeyed the
behest of one whose coarse nature forbade her sympathizing with them in
their clouded age, and many infirmities.

"Come," said she, impatient of their slow movements, "move a little
quicker, if it's perfectly convenient. Anybody'd think you'd been hard
at work all day, as I have. You're about the laziest set I ever had
anything to do with. I've got to be up early in the morning, and can't
stay here dawdling."

"She's got a sweet temper," said Paul, in a whisper, to Aunt Lucy.

"Hush!" said the old lady. "She may hear you."

"What's that you're whispering about?" said Mrs. Mudge, suspiciously.
"Something you're ashamed to have heard, most likely."

Paul thought it best to remain silent.