The classroom was arranged in a spare back parlor on the first floor--a
spacious apartment whose windows looked out upon the near shrubberies
and the distant woods. Here on the right hand were seated the five boys
under their tutor; and on the left were gathered the girls under their
governess. But when a class was called up for recitation, before the
tutor, boys and girls engaged in the same studies, and in the same stage
of progress stood up together, that their minds might be stimulated by
mutual emulation.
Often Mrs. Middleton occupied a seat in an arm-chair near one of the
pleasant windows overlooking the shrubberies, and employed herself with
some fine needlework while superintending the school. Sometimes, also,
Mr. Middleton came in with his book or paper, and occasionally, from
force of habit, he would take a classbook and hear a recitation. It was
to keep his hand in, he said, lest some unexpected turn of the wheel of
fortune should send him back to his old profession again.
Thus, this was in all respects a family school.
But when the neighbors became acquainted with its admirable working,
they begged as a favor the privilege of sending their children as day
pupils; and Mr. Middleton, in his cordial kindness, agreed to receive
the new pupils; but only on condition that their tuition fees should be
paid to augment the salaries of the tutor and the governess, as he--Mr.
Middleton--did not wish, and would not receive, a profit from the
school.
Among the newcomers were the sons of Commodore Burghe. Like the other
new pupils, they were only day scholars. For bad conduct they had once
been warned away from the school; but had been pardoned and received
back at the earnest entreaty of their father.
Their presence at Brudenell Hall on the nearly fatal night of the fire
had been accidental. The night had been stormy, and Mrs. Middleton had
insisted upon their remaining.
These boys were now regular attendants at the school, and their manners
and morals were perceptibly improving. They now sat with the Middleton
boys and shared their studies.
Into this pleasant family schoolroom, on the first Monday in April,
young Ishmael Worth was introduced. His own heroic conduct had won him a
place in the most select and exclusive little school in the State.
Ishmael was now thirteen years of age, a tall, slender boy, with a broad
full forehead, large prominent blue eyes, a straight well-shaped nose,
full, sweet, smiling lips, thin, wasted-looking cheeks, a round chin and
fair complexion. His hands and feet were small and symmetrical, but
roughened with hard usage. He was perfectly clean and neat in his
appearance. His thin, pale face was as delicately fair as any lady's;
his flaxen hair was parted at the left side and brushed away from his
big forehead; his coarse linen was as white as snow, and his coarser
homespun blue cloth jacket and trousers were spotless; his shoes were
also clean.