“‘Run home?’ how can he run home, uncle?  If he lives at the weaver’s, it is four miles off!  How can he run it, or even walk it?  Don’t you see how badly hurt he is?  Why, he could scarcely limp from the pond to the shop!  I think it would be only kind, uncle, to take him up beside you.  We pass close to the hut, you know, in going home, and we could set him down.”

“Come along, then, my little fellow!  The young princess says you are to ride home with us, and her highness’ wishes are not to be disobeyed!” laughed Mr. Middleton, holding out his hand to help the boy into the carriage.

Ishmael made no objection to this proposal:  but eagerly clambered up to the offered seat beside the gentleman.

The reins were moved, and they set off at a spanking pace, and were soon bowling along the turnpike road that made a circuit through the forest toward Brudenell Heights.

The sun had set, a fresh breeze had sprung up, and, as they were driving rapidly in the eye of the wind, there was scarcely opportunity for conversation.  In little more than an hour they reached a point in the road within a few hundred yards of the weaver’s hut.

“Here we are, my boy!  Now, do you think you can get home without help?” inquired Mr. Middleton, as he stopped the carriage.

“Oh, yes, sir, thank you!” replied Ishmael, as he clambered down to the ground.  He took off his hat beside the carriage, and making his best Sabbath-school bow, said: 

“Good-evening, sir; good-evening, madam and miss, and thank you very much.”

“Good-evening, my little man; there get along home with you out of the night air,” said Mr. Middleton.

Mrs. Middleton and the little lady nodded and smiled their adieus.

And Ishmael struck into the narrow and half hidden footpath that led from the highway to the hut.

The carriage started on its way.

“A rather remarkable boy, that,” said Mr. Middleton, as they drove along the forest road encircling the crest of the hills towards Brudenell Heights, that moonlit, dewy evening; “a rather remarkable boy!  He has an uncommonly fine head!  I should really like to examine it!  The intellect and moral organs seem wonderfully developed!  I really should like to examine it carefully at my leisure.”

“He has a fine face, if it were not so pale and thin,” said Mrs. Middleton.

“Poor, poor fellow,” said Claudia, in a tone of deep pity, “he is thin and pale, isn’t he?  And Fido is so fat and sleek!  I’m afraid he doesn’t get enough to eat, uncle!”

“Who, Fido?”

“No, the other one, the boy!  I say I’m afraid he don’t get enough to eat.  Do you think he does?”

“I—­I’m afraid not, my dear!”

“Then I think it is a shame, uncle!  Rich people ought not to let the poor, who depend upon them, starve!  Papa says that I am to come into my mamma’s fortune as soon as I am eighteen.  When I do, nobody in this world shall want.  Everybody shall have as much as ever they can eat three times a day.  Won’t that be nice?”