Ishmael who was partly concealed by his stooping position behind the horse, now raised his head, and saw two young gentlemen of about twelve and fourteen years of age, whom he recognized as the sons of Commodore Burghe, by having seen them often at church in the commodore's pew.
"Oh, I say, Ben, here's a hamper chock full of oranges and figs and nuts and raisins and things! let's get at them," said the elder boy, who had climbed upon one wheel and was looking into the carriage.
"Oh, no, Alf! don't meddle with them! Mr. Middleton would be mad," replied the younger.
"Who cares if he is? Who's afraid? Not I!" exclaimed Alf, tearing off the top of the hamper and helping himself.
All this passed in the instant that Ishmael was rising up.
"You must not touch those things, young gentlemen! You must not, indeed! Put those figs back again, Master Alfred," he said.
"Who the blazes are you, pray?" inquired Master Alfred contemptously, as he coolly proceeded to fill his pockets.
"I am Ishmael Worth, and I am set here to watch this horse and carriage, and I mean to do it! Put those figs back again, Master Alfred."
"Oh! you are Ishmael Worth, are you? The wearer woman's boy and Jem Morris's 'prentice! Happy to know you, sir!" said the lad sarcastically, as he deliberately spread his handkerchief on the ground and began to fill it with English walnuts.
"Return those things to the hamper, Master Alfred, while times are good," said Ishmael slowly and distinctly.