"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?"