As the old lady entered the chamber, what was her mingled indignation and dismay at seeing Mrs. Mudge on her knees before her chest, with the precious letter, whose arrival had gladdened her so much, in her hands.
“What are you doing there, Mrs. Mudge?” she said, sternly.
Mrs. Mudge rose from her knees in confusion. Even she had the grace to be ashamed of her conduct.
“Put down that letter,” said the old lady in an authoritative voice quite new to her.
Mrs. Mudge, who had not yet collected her scattered senses, did as she was requested.
Aunt Lucy walked hastily to the chest, and closed it, first securing the letter, which she put in her pocket.
“I hope it will be safe, now,” she said, rather contemptuously. “Ain't you ashamed of yourself, Mrs. Mudge?”
“Ashamed of myself!” shrieked that amiable lady, indignant with herself for having quailed for a moment before the old lady.
“What do you mean—you—you pauper?”
“I may be a pauper,” said Aunt Lucy, calmly, “But I am thankful to say that I mind my own business, and don't meddle with other people's chests.”