"I had a gold eagle wrapped up in that paper," returned Aunt Lucy,
pointing to the fragments on the floor, "and now, to-night, when I come
to open it, I find but this cent."

"A likely story," retorted Mrs. Mudge, "very likely, indeed, that a
common pauper should have a gold eagle. If you found a cent in the
paper, most likely that's what you put there. You're growing old and
forgetful, so don't get foolish and flighty. You'd better go to bed."

"But I did have the gold, and it's been stolen," persisted Aunt Lucy,
whose disappointment was the greater because she intended the money for
Paul.

"Again!" exclaimed Mrs. Mudge. "Will you never have done with this
folly? Even if you did have the gold, which I don't for an instant
believe, you couldn't keep it. A pauper has no right to hold property."

"Then why did the one who stole the little I had leave me this?" said
the old lady, scornfully, holding up the cent which had been substituted
for the gold.

"How should I know?" exclaimed Mrs. Mudge, wrathfully. "You talk as if
you thought I had taken your trumpery money."

"So you did!" chimed in an unexpected voice, which made Mrs. Mudge start
nervously.

It was the young woman already mentioned, who was bereft of reason,
but who at times, as often happens in such cases, seemed gifted with
preternatural acuteness.