Mr. Mudge

“ Mudge."
After a moment's thought, Ben wrapped up the sheet, took it under his arm, and once more ran in pursuit of Mr. Mudge.
Meanwhile Mrs. Mudge was sitting in the kitchen of the Poorhouse, mending stockings. She was not in the pleasantest humor, for one of the paupers had managed to break a plate at tea-table (if that can be called tea where no tea is provided) , and trifles were sufficient to ruffle Mrs. Mudge's temper.
"Where's Mudge, I wonder?" she said, sharply; "over to the tavern, I s'pose, as usual. There never was such a shiftless, good-for- nothing man. ”

“ Mudge. However that might be, she was a little ashamed of having to admit to herself that Mr. Mudge’s removal to a higher sphere—to a more commanding position, that is, though to a much lower neighbourhood—would have been described still better as a luxury than as the mere simplification, the corrected awkwardness, that she contented herself with calling it. ”

“ Mudge, and contained these words: "Important that I should see you. Coming down. Please be at home at two." Punctually Mr. Mudge arrived. Pamela received him in her own sitting-room. She was waiting with a restless anxiety, and hardly waited for the door to be closed.
"You have bad news for me," she said. "Oh, I know! You are a busy man. You would not have come down to me had you not bad news. I am very grateful for your coming, but you have bad news."
"Yes," said Mr. Mudge, gravely; "news so bad that you must ask your other friend to help you. I can do nothing here." ”

“ Mudge. "You're about the laziest and most shiftless man I ever came across."
"Come, what does all this mean?" demanded Mr. Mudge, who was getting a little angry in his turn.
"I'll let you know. Just look out of that window, will you?"
"Well," said Mr. Mudge, innocently, "I don't see anything in particular."
"You don't!" said Mrs. Mudge with withering sarcasm. "Then you'd better put on your glasses. If you'd been here quarter of an hour ago, you'd have seen Brindle among the cabbages."
"Did she do any harm?" asked Mr. Mudge, hastily. ”

“ Ben waited till Mr. Mudge was close at hand, when all at once he started from his place of concealment completely enveloped in the sheet with which he was provided. He stood motionless before the astounded Mudge.
"Who are you?" exclaimed Mudge, his knees knocking together in terror, clinging to an overhanging branch for support.
There was no answer.
"Who are you?" he again asked in affright.
"Sally Baker," returned Ben, in as sepulchral a voice as he could command.
Sally Baker was an old pauper, who had recently died. The name occurred to Ben on the spur of the moment. ”

“ Mudge, you always thought so much of me.”
Mr. Mudge coughed in some embarrassment, and not thinking of anything in particular to say, said nothing.
“I am going to take from you another of your boarders,” said Paul. “Can you spare Aunt Lucy?”
“For how long?” asked Mrs. Mudge.
“For all the time. She has just come into possession of a little property,—several hundred dollars a year,—and I have persuaded her to go to New York to board.”
“Is this true?” exclaimed Mrs. Mudge in astonishment.
“Yes,” said the old lady, “God has been bountiful to me when I least expected it.” ”

“ She could accept even without bitterness a rigour of economy so great that the little fee they paid for admission to the pier had to be balanced against other delights. The people at Ladle’s and at Thrupp’s had their ways of amusing themselves, whereas she had to sit and hear Mr. Mudge talk of what he might do if he didn’t take a bath, or of the bath he might take if he only hadn’t taken something else. He was always with her now, of course, always beside her; she saw him more than “hourly,” more than ever yet, more even than he had planned she should do at Chalk Farm. ”

“ She was so absurdly constructed that these were literally the moments that made up—made up for the long stiffness of sitting there in the stocks, made up for the cunning hostility of Mr. Buckton and the importunate sympathy of the counter-clerk, made up for the daily deadly flourishy letter from Mr. Mudge, made up even for the most haunting of her worries, the rage at moments of not knowing how her mother did “get it.” ”

“ Mudge.
Mudge rose with some difficulty, steadied himself on his feet, and approaching his wife, whispered in a tragic tone, "Mrs. Mudge, I've seen a sperrit."
"It's plain enough that you've seen spirit," retorted his wife. "'Tisn't many nights that you don't, for that matter. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Mudge."
"It isn't that," said her husband, shaking his hand, "it's a sperrit,--a ghost, that I've seen."
"Indeed!" said Mrs. Mudge, sarcastically, "perhaps you can tell whose it is."
"It was the sperrit of Sally Baker," said Mudge, solemnly. ”

“ How does he live?" he asked suddenly.
"I neither know nor care," said Pamela. "Ah, but you should care," replied Mudge. "The answer is instructive. He has a small income--two hundred a year, perhaps; a mere nothing compared with what he spends--and he never does an hour's work, as we understand work. Yet he pays his card debts at his club, and they are sometimes heavy, and he wants for nothing. How is it done? He has no prospect of an inheritance, so post-obits are not the explanation."
Mr. Mudge leaned back in his chair and waited. Pamela turned the question over in her mind. ”

“ But he will begin with a fearless ambition to suffice with his own hands and head." Mr. Mudge dropped from the high level of his earnestness. He looked towards Lionel Callon, who was seated at a card-table, and the contempt again crept into his voice. "Now that man began life meaning to use all people he met, and especially women. Women were to be his implements." Mr. Mudge smiled suddenly. "He's listening," he said.
"But he is too far away to hear," replied Pamela.
"No doubt; but he knows we are speaking of him. Look, his attitude shows it. ”

“ I've got my eyes wide open, and ain't easily caught. But wasn't it fun to see old Mudge fuming while I kept him waiting. What would he have said if he had known the bird was so near at hand? He looked foolish enough when I asked him if you were his son."
John sat down and gave vent to his pent-up laughter which he had felt obliged to restrain in the presence of Mr. Mudge. He laughed so heartily that Paul, notwithstanding his recent fright and anxiety, could not resist the infection. Together they laughed, till the very air seemed vocal with merriment.
John was the first to recover his gravity. ”

“ Mr. Mudge was accustomed to call Paul at five o'clock, to milk the cows and perform other chores. He himself did not rise till an hour later. During Paul's sickness, he was obliged to take his place,—a thing he did not relish overmuch. Now that our hero had recovered, he gladly prepared to indulge himself in an extra nap.
“Paul!” called Mr. Mudge from the bottom of the staircase leading up into the attic, “it's five o'clock; time you were downstairs.”
Mr. Mudge waited for an answer, but none came.
“Paul!” repeated Mr. Mudge in a louder tone, “it's time to get up; tumble out there.” ”

“ Mr. Mudge was still an attendant at his Wesleyan chapel, but this was the least of her worries—it had never even vexed her enough for her to so much as name it to Mrs. Jordan. Mr. Mudge’s form of worship was one of several things—they made up in superiority and beauty for what they wanted in number—that she had long ago settled he should take from her, and she had now moreover for the first time definitely established her own. Its principal feature was that it was to be the same as that of Mrs. Jordan and Lord Rye ”

“ At the very moment that Paul was driving through the village street, Mr. Nicholas Mudge entered the Poorhouse in high spirits. Certainly ill-fortune must have befallen some one to make the good man so exhilarant.
To explain, Mr. Mudge had just been to the village store to purchase some groceries. One of his parcels was tied up in a stray leaf of a recent New York Daily, in which he discovered an item which he felt sure would make Aunt Lucy unhappy. He communicated it to Mrs. Mudge, who highly approved his design. She called the old lady from the common room. ”

“ 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.”
Paul quietly submitted himself to the guidance of Mr. Mudge. ”

“ There seemed in very truth something auspicious in the mixture of bachelors and flowers, though, when looked hard in the eye, Mrs. Jordan was not quite prepared to say she had expected a positive proposal from Lord Rye to pop out of it. Our young woman arrived at last, none the less, at a definite vision of what was in her mind. This was a vivid foreknowledge that the betrothed of Mr. Mudge would, unless conciliated in advance by a successful rescue, almost hate her on the day she should break a particular piece of news. ”

“ Our young woman had a sense that if that view could only be put before her with a particular sniff for poor Mr. Mudge she should hate it as much as she morally ought. She was conscious of not, as yet, hating it quite so much as that. But she saw that Mrs. Jordan was conscious of something too, and that there was a sort of assurance she was waiting little by little to gather. The day came when the girl caught a glimpse of what was still wanting to make her friend feel strong ”

“ Mudge left the room.
Meanwhile her husband milked the cows, and was now occupied in performing certain other duties that could not be postponed, being resolved, immediately after breakfast was over, to harness up and pursue the runaway.
“Well, did you get anything out of the old lady?” he inquired, as he came from the barn with the full milk-pails.
“She said she knew beforehand that he was going.”
“Eh!” said Mr. Mudge, pricking up his ears, “did she say where?”
“No, and she won't. She knit him a pair of stockings to help him off, and doesn't pretend to deny it. ”

“ Mr. Mudge was distinctly her fate; yet at this moment she turned her face quite away from him, showing him so long a mere quarter of her cheek that she at last again heard his voice. He couldn't see a pair of tears that were partly the reason of her delay to give him the assurance he required; but he expressed at a venture the hope that she had had her fill of Cocker's.
She was finally able to turn back. 'Oh, quite. There's nothing going on. No one comes but the Americans at Thrupp's, and they don't do much. ”

“ Be punctual." Mr. Mudge sauntered away. There could only be the one answer. Mr. Lionel Callon might twist and turn as he pleased, he would spend two years in Chili. It was five minutes past seven, besides. Callon could hardly call at the house in Berkeley Square with any chance of seeing Lady Stretton between now and eight. Mudge was contented with his afternoon.
At eight o'clock Callon gave in his submission and pocketed the cheque. At eleven he proposed to go, but Mudge, mindful of an evening visit which he had witnessed from a balcony, could not part from his new manager so soon. ”

“ Mudge, in an injured tone. “We don't have any marble palaces in this neighborhood, we don't.”
Paul disclaimed any such anticipation.
Mr. Mudge deigned to accept Paul's apology, and as they had now reached the door, unceremoniously threw it open, and led the way into a room with floor unpainted, which, to judge from its appearance, was used as a kitchen.
IV. LIFE IN A NEW PHASE.
Everything was “at sixes and sevens,” as the saying is, in the room Mr. Mudge and Paul had just entered. ”

“ John lounged along, appearing to be very busily engaged in making a whistle from a slip of willow which he had a short time before cut from the tree. He purposely kept in the middle of the road, apparently quite unaware of the approach of the vehicle, until he was aroused by the sound of a voice behind him.
"Be a little more careful, if you don't want to get run over."
John assumed a look of surprise, and with comic terror ran to the side of the road.
Mr. Mudge checked his horse, and came to a sudden halt. ”

“ Her lover, still on his seat, appealed to her in something of the attitude in which she had last left Captain Everard, but the impression was not the same. “Then where do I come in?”
“You don’t come in at all. That’s just the beauty of it!”—and with this she turned to mingle with the multitude collected round the band. Mr. Mudge presently overtook her and drew her arm into his own with a quiet force that expressed the serenity of possession ”

“ What is he in danger of?'
'Of being found out. He's in love with a lady—and it isn't right—and I've found him out.'
'That'll be a look-out for me!' Mr. Mudge joked. 'You mean she has a husband?'
'Never mind what she has! They 're in awful danger, but his is the worst, because he's in danger from her too.'
'Like me from you—the woman I love? If he's in the same funk as me⸻'
'He's in a worse one. He's not only afraid of the lady—he's afraid of other things.'
Mr. Mudge selected another chocolate-cream. 'Well, I'm only afraid of one! ”

“ If you will come on Tuesday, you shall have the money, if I have to pawn some of my furniture to raise it.”
Mr. Mudge was half persuaded, but still sullen. “There’s your husband,—why doesn’t he work? He is able to. You wouldn’t find any difficulty in raising the rent, if he would do something.” ”