“I know he was poor.”
“Therefore it has been thought best that you should be placed in charge of a worthy man, who I see is now approaching the house. You will therefore accompany him without resistance. If you obey him and read the Bible regularly, you will—ahem!—you will some time or other see the advantage of it.”
With this consolatory remark Squire Newcome wheeled about and strode out of the house.
Immediately afterwards there entered a rough-looking man arrayed in a farmer's blue frock.
“You're to come with me, youngster,” said Mr. Nicholas Mudge, for that was his name.
“With you?” said Paul, recoiling instinctively.
In fact there was nothing attractive in the appearance or manners of Mr. Mudge. He had a coarse hard face, while his head was surmounted by a shock of red hair, which to all appearance had suffered little interference from the comb for a time which the observer would scarcely venture to compute. There was such an utter absence of refinement about the man, that Paul, who had been accustomed to the gentle manners of his father, was repelled by the contrast which this man exhibited.
“To be sure you're to go with me,” said Mr. Mudge. “You did not calc'late you was a goin' to stay here by yourself, did you? We've got a better place for you than that. But the wagon's waitin' outside, so just be lively and bundle in, and I'll carry you to where you're a goin' to live.”
“Where's that?”
“Wal, some folks call it the Poor House, but it ain't any the worse for that, I expect. Anyhow, them as has no money may feel themselves lucky to get so good a home. So jest be a movin', for I can't be a waitin' here all day.”