Of all this Miss Claudia only understood his gratitude; and it pleased
her as the gratitude of Fido might have done.
And she left his side for a moment, and raised herself on tiptoe and
whispered to her uncle: "Uncle, he is a noble fellow--isn't he, now? But he loves me better than
he does you. So let me give him something."
Mr. Middleton placed the five dollar piece in her hand.
"No, no, no--not that! Don't you see it hurts his feelings to offer him
that?"
"Well--but what then?"
"I'll tell you: When we drove up to Hamlin's I saw him standing before
the shop, with his hands in his pockets, staring at the books in the
windows, just as I have seen hungry children stare at the tarts and
cakes in a pastry cook's. And I know he is hungry for a book! Now uncle,
let me give him a book."
"Yes; but had not I better give it to him, Claudia?"
"Oh, if you like, and he'll take it from you! But, you know, there's
Fido now, who sometimes gets contrary, and won't take anything from your
hand, but no matter how contrary he is, will always take anything from
mine. But you may try, uncle--you may try!"
This conversation was carried on in a whisper. When it was ended Mr.
Middleton turned to Ishmael and said: "Very well, my boy; I can but respect your scruples. Follow us back to
Hamlin's."
And so saying, he helped his wife and his niece into the pony chaise,
got in himself, and took the reins to drive on.
Miss Claudia looked back and watched Ishmael as he limped slowly and
painfully after them. The distance was very short, and they soon reached
the shop.
"Which is the window he was looking in, Claudia?" inquired Mr.
Middleton.
"This one on the left hand, uncle."
"Ah! Come here, my boy; look into this window now, and tell me which of
these books you would advise me to buy for a present to a young friend
of mine?"
The poor fellow looked up with so much perplexity in his face at the
idea of this grave, middle-aged gentleman asking advice of him, that Mr.
Middleton hastened to say: "The reason I ask you, Ishmael, is because, you being a boy would be a
better judge of another boy's tastes than an old man like me could be.
So now judge by yourself, and tell me which book you think would please
my young friend best. Look at them all, and take time."
"Oh, yes, sir. But I don't want time! Anybody could tell in a minute
which book a boy would like!"
"Which, then?"
"Oh, this, this, this! 'History of the United States,' all full of
pictures!"