"You did that! You!" exclaimed Hannah vehemently. "Oh! you horrid,

wicked, ungrateful, heartless boy! to do such a thing as that, when you

knew if you had been burnt to death, it would have broken my heart! And

you, professor! you are just as bad as he is! yes, and worse too,

because you are older and ought to have more sense! The boy was in your

care! pretty care you took of him to let him rush right into the fire."

"Ma'am, if you'll only let me get in a word edgeways like, I'll tell you

all about it! I did try to hinder him! I reasoned with him, and I held

him tight, until the young hero--rascal, I mean--turned upon me and hit

me in the face; yes, ma'am, administered a 'scientific' right into my

left eye, and then broke from me and rushed into the burning house--"

"Well, but I thought it better the professor should have a black eye

than the boys should be burned to death," put in the lad, edgeways.

"Oh, Ishmael, Ishmael, this is dreadful! You will live to be hung, I

know you will!" sobbed Hannah.

"Well, aunty, maybe so; Sir William Wallace did," coolly replied the

boy.

"What in the name of goodness set you on to do such a wild thing? And

all for old Burghe's sons! Pray, what were they to you that you should

rush through burning flames for them?"

"Nothing, Aunt Hannah; only I felt quite sure that Israel Putnam or

Francis Marion would have done just as I did, and so--"

"Plague take Francis Putnam and Israel Marion, and also Patrick

Handcock, and the whole lot of 'em, I say! Who are they that you should

run your head into the fire for them? They wouldn't do it for you, that

I know," exclaimed Hannah.

"Aunt Hannah," said Ishmael pathetically, "you have got their names all

wrong, and you always do! Now, if you would only take my book and read

it while you are resting in your chair, you would soon learn all their

names, and--"

"I'll take the book and throw it into the fire the very first time I lay

my hands on it! The fetched book will be your ruin yet!" exclaimed

Hannah, in a rage.

"Now, Miss Worth," interposed the professor, "if you destroy that boy's

book, I'll never do another odd job for you as long as ever I live."

"Whist! professor," whispered Ishmael. "You don't know my Aunt Hannah as

well as I do. Her bark is a deal worse than her bite! If you only knew

how many times she has threatened to 'shake the life out of' me, and to

'be the death of me', and to 'flay' me 'alive,' you would know the value

of her words."




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