This turned her thoughts into a different channel.
“I'll teach you what I am,” she exclaimed, wrathfully descending the stairs more rapidly than she had mounted them, “and if you know anything about the little scamp, I'll have it out of you.”
The girl narrowly succeeded in eluding the grasp of her pursuer. But, alas! for Mrs. Mudge. In her impetuosity she lost her footing, and fell backward into a pail of water which had been brought up the night before and set in the entry for purposes of ablution. More wrathful than ever, Mrs. Mudge bounced into her room and sat down in her dripping garments in a very uncomfortable frame of mind. As for Paul, she felt a personal dislike for him, and was not sorry on some accounts to have him out of the house. The knowledge, however, that he had in a manner defied her authority by running away, filled her with an earnest desire to get him back, if only to prove that it was not to be defied with impunity.
Hoping to elicit some information from Aunt Lucy, who, she felt sure, was in Paul's confidence, she paid her a visit.
“Well, here's a pretty goings on,” she commenced, abruptly. Finding that Aunt Lucy manifested no curiosity on the subject, she continued, in a significant tone, “Of course, YOU don't know anything about it.”
“I can tell better when I know what you refer to,” said the old lady calmly.
“Oh, you are very ignorant all at once. I suppose you didn't know Paul Prescott had run away?”
“I am not surprised,” said the old lady, in the same quiet manner.
Mrs. Mudge had expected a show of astonishment, and this calmness disconcerted her.
“You are not surprised!” she retorted. “I presume not, since you knew all about it beforehand. That's why you were knitting him some stockings. Deny it, if you dare.”