Ben knocked at the door of the Poorhouse. In due time Mrs. Mudge appeared. She was a little alarmed on seeing Ben, not knowing how Squire Newcome might be affected by the reception she had given him on his last visit. Accordingly she received him with unusual politeness.
“How do you do, Master Newcome?” she inquired.
“As well as could be expected,” said Ben, hesitatingly.
“Why, is there anything the matter with you?” inquired Mrs. Mudge, her curiosity excited by his manner of speaking.
“No one can tell what I suffer from rheumatism,” said Ben, sadly.
This was very true, since not even Ben himself could have told.
“You are very young to be troubled in that way,” said Mrs. Mudge, “and how is your respected father, to-day?” she inquired, with some anxiety.
“I was just going to ask you, Mrs. Mudge,” said Ben, “whether anything happened to disturb him when he called here day before yesterday?”
“Why,” said Mrs. Mudge, turning a little pale, “Nothing of any consequence,—that is, not much. What makes you ask?”
“I thought it might be so from his manner,” said Ben, enjoying Mrs. Mudge's evident alarm.