THE PROFESSOR OF ODD JOBS.
An ancient man, hoary gray with eld.
—Dante.
The little house was situated right at the foot of the hill south of
Brudenell Hall.
Ishmael approached it from behind and walked around to the front. He opened the little wooden gate of the front yard and saw seated in the front door, enjoying that early autumn morning, a stalwart old man, whose well-marked features and high forehead were set in a rim of hair and beard as white as snow. A most respectable and venerable-looking form, indeed, though the raiment that clothed it was old and patched. But Ishmael had to look again before he could recognize in this reverend personage the Professor of Odd Jobs.
A curiosity to know whether the professor would recognize him induced Ishmael to approach him as a stranger. As he came into the yard, however, Morris arose slowly, and, lifting his old felt hat, bowed courteously to the supposed stranger.
"Your name is Morris, I believe," said Ishmael, by way of opening a conversation.
But at the first word the professor started and gazed at his visitor, and exclaiming: "Young Ishmael! Oh, my dear boy, how glad I am to see you once more before I die!" burst into tears.
Ishmael went straight into his embrace, and the old odd-job man pressed the young gentleman to his honest, affectionate heart.
"You knew me at once, professor," said Ishmael affectionately.
"Knew you, my boy!" burst out the old man, with enthusiasm. "Why, I knew you as soon as ever you looked at me and spoke to me. I knew you by your steady, smiling eyes and by your rich, sweet voice, young Ishmael. No one has a look and a tone like yours."