Ishmael stood the very picture of perplexity, until Mr. Middleton addressed him. "Come here, my brave little lad. You are to do as the commodore has directed you, and present yourself here on Monday next. Do you understand?" "Yes, sir, I understand very well; but--" "But--what, my lad? Wouldn't you like to come?" "Oh, yes, sir! more than anything in the world. I would like it, but--" "What, my boy?" "It would be taking something for nothing; and I do not like to do that, sir." "You are mistaken, Ishmael. It would be taking what you have a right to take. It would be taking what you have earned a hundred-fold. You risked your life to save Commodore Burghe's two sons, and you did save them." "Sir, that was only my duty." "Then it is equally the commodore's duty to do all that he can for you. And it is also your duty to accept his offers." "Do you look at it in that light, sir?" "Certainly I do." "And--do you think John Hancock and Patrick Henry would have looked at it in that light?" Mr. Middleton laughed. No one could have helped laughing at the solemn, little, pale visage of Ishmael, as he gravely put this question. "Why, assuredly, my boy. Every hero and martyr in sacred or profane history would view the matter as the commodore and myself do." "Oh, then, sir, I am so glad! and indeed, indeed, I will do my very best to profit by my opportunities, and to show my thankfulness to the commodore and you," said Ishmael fervently. "Quite right. I am sure you will. And now, my boy, you may retire," said Mr. Middleton, kindly giving Ishmael his hand. Our lad bowed deeply and turned towards the professor, who, with a sweeping obeisance to all the literary shelves, left the room. "Your everlastin' fortin's made, young Ishmael! You will learn the classmatics, and all the fine arts; and it depends on yourself alone, whether you do not rise to be a sexton or a clerk!" said the professor, as they went out into the lawn. They went around to the smoking ruins of the burnt wing, where all the field negroes were collected under the superintendence of the overseer, Grainger, and engaged in clearing away the rubbish. "I have a hundred and fifty things to do," said the professor; "but, still, if my assistance is required here it must be given. Do you want my help, Mr. Grainger?" "No, Morris, not until the rubbish is cleared away. Then, I think, we shall want you to put down a temporary covering to keep the cellar from filling with rain until the builder comes," was the reply. "Come along, then, young Ishmael; I guess I will not linger here any longer; and as for going over to Mr. Martindale's, to begin to dig his well to-day, it is too late to think of such a thing. So I will just walk over home with you, to see how Hannah receives your good news," said the professor, leading the way rapidly down the narrow path through the wooded valley. When they reached the hut they found Hannah sitting in her chair before the fire, crying.