"Well, then, what did he sell it for, Claudia?" inquired her uncle,
smiling.
"I don't believe he sold it at all!" said Miss Claudia.
Her uncle quietly untied the packet, and placed the book before her,
open at the fly-leaf, upon which the names of the donor and the receiver
were written.
"Well, then, I believe he must have sold it to get something to eat,"
said Ishmael's obstinate little advocate; "for I heard Mr. Rutherford
say that there was a great deal of suffering among the frozen-out
working classes this winter."
"It may be as you say, my dear. I do not know."
"Well, uncle, you ought to know, then! It is the duty of the prosperous
to find out the condition of the poor! When I come into my fortune--"
"Yes, I know; we have heard all that before; the millennium will be
brought about, of course. But, if I am not mistaken, there is your
little protégé on the road before us!" said Mr. Middleton, slacking his
horse's speed, as he caught sight of Ishmael.
"Yes, it is he! And look at him! does he look like a boy who is
thinking of playing marbles and spinning tops?" inquired Miss Claudia.
Indeed, no! no one who saw the child could have connected childish
sports with him. He was creeping wearily along, bent under the burden of
the bag of meal he carried on his back, and looking from behind more
like a little old man than a boy.
Mr. Middleton drove slowly as he approached him.
Ishmael drew aside to let the sleigh pass.
But Mr. Middleton drew up to examine the boy more at his leisure.
The stooping gait, the pale, broad forehead, the hollow eyes, the wasted
cheeks and haggard countenance, so sad to see in so young a lad, spoke
more eloquently than words could express the famine, the cold, the
weariness, and illness he suffered.
"Oh, uncle, if you haven't got a stone in your bosom instead of a heart,
you will call the poor fellow here and give him a seat with us! He is
hardly able to stand! And it is so bitter cold!" said Miss Claudia,
drawing her own warm, sable cloak around her.
"But--he is such an object! His clothes are all over patches," said Mr.
Middleton, who liked sometimes to try the spirit of his niece.
"But, uncle, he is so clean! just as clean as you are, or even as I am,"
said Miss Claudia.
"And he has got a great bag on his back!"
"Well, uncle, that makes it so much harder for him to walk this long,
long road, and is so much the more reason for you to take him in. You
can put the bag down under your feet. And now if you don't call him here
in one minute, I will--so there now! Ishmael! Ishmael, I say! Here, sir!
here!" cried the little lady, standing up in the sleigh.