At twelve years of age Ishmael was a tall, thin, delicate-looking lad, with regular features, pale complexion, fair hair, and blue eyes. His great, broad forehead and wasted cheeks gave his face almost a triangular shape. The truth is, that up to this age the boy had never had enough food to nourish the healthy growth of the body. And that he lived at all was probably due to some great original vital force in his organization, and also to the purity of his native air, of which at least he got a plenty.
He had learned all the professor could teach him; had read all the books that Morris could lend him; and was now hungering and thirsting for more knowledge. At this time a book had such a fascination for Ishmael that when he happened to be at Baymouth he would stand gazing, spellbound, at the volumes exposed for sale in the shop windows, just as other boys gaze at toys and sweetmeats.
But little time had the poor lad for such peeps into Paradise, for he was now earning about a dollar a week, as Assistant-Professor of Odd Jobs to Jem Morris, and his professional duties kept him very busy.
Baymouth had progressed in all these years, and now actually boasted a fine new shop, with this sign over the door:
BOOK, STATIONERY, AND FANCY BAZAAR.
And this to Ishmael seemed a very fairy palace. It attracted him with an irresistible glamour.
It happened one burning Saturday afternoon in August that the boy, having a half-holiday, resolved to make the most of it and enjoy himself by walking to Baymouth and standing before that shop to gaze at his leisure upon the marvels of literature displayed in its windows.
The unshaded village street was hot and dusty, and the unclouded August sun was blazing down upon it; but Ishmael did not mind that, as he stood devouring with his eyes the unattainable books.
While he was thus occupied, a small, open, one-horse carriage drove up and stopped before the shop door. The gentleman who had driven it alighted and handed out a lady and a little girl in deep mourning. The lady and the little girl passed immediately into the shop. And oh! how Ishmael envied them! They were perhaps going to buy some of those beautiful books!
The gentleman paused with the reins in his hands, and looked up and down the bare street, as if in search of some person. At last, in withdrawing his eyes, they fell upon Ishmael, and he called him.