And when they arose from the table the latter went out and mounted his horse to ride to the post office, for Herman Brudenell's establishment was now reduced to so small a number of servants that he was compelled to be his own postman. To be plain with you, there were but two servants--old Jovial, who was gardener, coachman, and waiter; and old Dinah, his wife, who was cook, laundress, and chambermaid. Felix, the lad mentioned in the beginning of this chapter, was scarcely to be called one, upon account of the mental imbecility that confined his usefulness to such simple duties as running little errands from room to room about the house. So Mr. Brudenell rode off to the post office, and Ishmael walked off to the cottage occupied by Jim Morris. CHAPTER XI. THE PROFESSOR OF ODD JOBS. An ancient man, hoary gray with eld. --_Dante_. The little house was situated right at the foot of the hill south of Brudenell Hall. Ishmael approached it from behind and walked around to the front. He opened the little wooden gate of the front yard and saw seated in the front door, enjoying that early autumn morning, a stalwart old man, whose well-marked features and high forehead were set in a rim of hair and beard as white as snow. A most respectable and venerable-looking form, indeed, though the raiment that clothed it was old and patched. But Ishmael had to look again before he could recognize in this reverend personage the Professor of Odd Jobs. A curiosity to know whether the professor would recognize him induced Ishmael to approach him as a stranger. As he came into the yard, however, Morris arose slowly, and, lifting his old felt hat, bowed courteously to the supposed stranger. "Your name is Morris, I believe," said Ishmael, by way of opening a conversation. But at the first word the professor started and gazed at his visitor, and exclaiming: "Young Ishmael! Oh, my dear boy, how glad I am to see you once more before I die!" burst into tears. Ishmael went straight into his embrace, and the old odd-job man pressed the young gentleman to his honest, affectionate heart. "You knew me at once, professor," said Ishmael affectionately. "Knew you, my boy!" burst out the old man, with enthusiasm. "Why, I knew you as soon as ever you looked at me and spoke to me. I knew you by your steady, smiling eyes and by your rich, sweet voice, young Ishmael. No one has a look and a tone like yours." "You think so because you like me, professor." "And how you have grown! And they tell me that you have risen to be a great lawyer? I knew it was in you to do it!" said the professor, holding the young man off and gazing at him with all a father's pride. "By the blessing of Heaven, I have been successful, dear old friend," said Ishmael affectionately; "but how has it been with you, all these years?" he asked. "How has it been with me? Ah, young Ishmael--I should say 'Mr. Worth.'" "Young Ishmael, professor."