leave of you now. Good-by! God bless you!"
And Ishmael shook hands with them all around, and left them and walked back to the cottage.
The next day, being the Sabbath, he went with Hannah and Reuben and the professor to church. He had almost shrunk from this duty, in his dread of meeting Claudia there; but she was not present. Judge Merlin's pew was empty when they entered, and remained empty during the whole of the morning service.
When the benediction had been pronounced, and the congregation were going out, Ishmael was about to leave his pew when he saw that the minister had come down from the pulpit and was advancing straight towards him to speak to him. He therefore stopped and waited for Mr. Wynne's approach.
There was a shaking of hands and mutual inquiries as to each other's health, and then Mr. Wynne invited Ishmael to accompany him home and dine with him.
Ishmael thanked him and declined the invitation, saying that he was with friends.
Mr. Wynne then smilingly shook hands with Hannah and Reuben and the professor, claiming them all as old friends and parishioners, and extending the invitation to them.
But Hannah pleaded the children left at home, and, with many thanks, declined the honor.
And the friends shook hands and separated.
Very early on Monday morning Ishmael and his gray-haired retainer prepared for their departure for Washington.
Ishmael left two commissions for Reuben. The first was to make his apologies and adieus to Judge Merlin. And the second was to send back the horse, borrowed for the use of the professor, to Mr. Brudenell at Brudenell Hall. Both of which Reuben promised to execute.
After an early breakfast Ishmael and his venerable dependent took leave of Hannah, the children and the dog, and seated themselves in the light wagon that had been geared up for their accommodation, and were driven by Reuben to Shelton, where they arrived in time to catch the "Errand Boy" on its up trip. Reuben took leave of them only half a minute before the boat started.
They had a pleasant run up the river, and reached the Washington wharf early on Wednesday morning, where Ishmael took a carriage to convey himself, servant, and his luggage to his lodgings.
As they drove through the streets the professor, seated on the front seat, bobbed about from right to left, looking out at the windows and gazing at the houses, the shops, and the crowds of people. Nothing could exceed the surprise and delight of the intellectual but childlike old man, who now for the first time in his life looked upon a large city. His enthusiasm at the sight of the Capitol was delicious.
"You shall go all through it some day, as soon as we get settled," said Ishmael.
"There is only one thing that I am doubtful about," said the professor.
"And what is that?"
"That I have not years enough left to live to see all the wonders of the world."
"None of us—not the youngest of us have, professor. But you will live to see a great many. And by the time that you have seen everything that is to be found in Washington, I shall be ready to go to Europe; for I expect to see Europe some time or other, professor, and you shall see it with me."
"Oh!" ejaculated the odd-job man, who seemed to think that the millennium was not far off.
And at that moment the carriage drew up before Ishmael's lodgings. And the driver and the professor carried the luggage into the front hall. And when the carriage was paid and dismissed Ishmael conducted the professor to the inner office where the two clerks that were in charge of it arose to welcome their principal.
When he had shaken hands with them, he led his retainer into the bedroom, and showed him a small vacant chamber adjoining that, and told him that the latter should be his—the professor's own sanctuary. Then he showed the old man the pleasant garden, all blooming now with late roses, chrysanthemums, dahlias, and other gorgeous autumn flowers, and told him that there he might walk or sit, and smoke his pipe in pleasant weather. And finally he brought the professor back to the front office, where he found his hostesses, Miss Jenny and Miss Nelly Downey, waiting to welcome him. Nice, delicate, refined-looking old maiden ladies they were—tall, thin, and fair complexioned, with fine, gray hair, and cobweb lace caps and pale gray dresses, and having pleasant smiles and soft voices.
After they had shaken hands with their lodger they turned looks of inquiry upon the tall, gray-haired old man that stood behind him.
"This is a very old friend of mine; I have engaged him to take care of my rooms, his name is Morris, but upon account of his skill in many arts he has received from the public the title of professor," said Ishmael, turning an affectionate look upon the old odd-job man.
"How do you do, Professor Morris? We are very glad to see you, I am sure; and we hope you will find yourself comfortable, and also that you will be a comfort to Mr. Worth, who is a very estimable young gentleman indeed," said Miss Jenny, speaking for herself and sister.
"I cannot fail to be both comfortable and happy under this honored roof, my ladies!" said the professor, in a most reverential tone, laying his hand upon his heart and making a profound bow that would have done credit to the most accomplished courtier of the grave and stately old school.
"A nice, gentlemanly old person," said Miss Jenny, nodding her head to her sister. And Miss Nelly said "Yes," and nodded her head also.
"If you can fit up the little chamber adjoining my bedroom for the professor, I will arrange with you for his board," said Ishmael, aside to Miss Jenny.
"Oh, certainly; it shall be done immediately," replied the old lady. And she left the room, followed by her sister, to give orders to that effect.
And before night the professor was comfortably installed in his neatly furnished and well-warmed little room, and Ishmael's apartments were restored to order, and he himself in full career going over the office business of the last two weeks with his clerks.
He found a plenty of work cut out for him to do, and he resolved to be very busy to make up for his idleness during his holiday.
Ishmael did not really wish to tax his old servant with any labor at all. He wished his office to be as much of a sinecure as possible. And he continually urged the professor to go abroad and see the city sights, or to walk in the garden and enjoy his pipe, or rest himself in his own room, or visit his daughter, the hackman's wife.
The professor obediently did all this for a time; but as the days passed Ishmael saw that the old man's greatest happiness consisted in staying with and serving his master; and so he at length permitted the professor to relieve the chamber-maid of her duties in his rooms, and take quiet possession and complete charge of them.
And never were rooms kept in more perfect order. And, best of all, love taught the professor the mystic art of dusting without deranging papers and dementing their owner.
Ishmael's present position was certainly a very pleasant one. He not only found a real home in his boarding-house, and a faithful friend in his servant, but a pair of aunties in his landladies. Every good heart brought in contact with Ishmael Worth was sure to love him. And these old ladies were no exception to the rule. They had no relatives to bestow their affections upon, and so, seeing every day more of their young lodger's worth, they grew to love him with maternal ardor. It is not too much to say that they doted on
