"Because I like to recall them, professor. It quickens my gratitude to the Lord for all his marvelous mercies, and it deepens my love for my friends for their goodness to me then," said Ishmael fervently.
"The Lord knows I don't know who was good to you then! Of course, now, sir, there are multitudes of people who would be proud to be numbered among your friends. But then, of all the abandoned children that ever I saw, you were about the most friendless," said the professor, with much feeling.
"You, for one, were good to me, professor; and I do not forget it."
"Ah, the Lord knows it was but little I could do."
"What you did do was vital to me, professor. My life was but a little flame, in danger of dying out. You fed it with little chips, and kept it alive."
"And it burns great hickory logs now, and warms the world," said the professor, looking proudly and fondly upon the fine young man before him.
"It shall at least warm and shelter your age, professor. And whatever of prosperity the Lord accords me, you shall share."
As he said these words he turned an affectionate look on his retainer, and saw the tears rolling down the old man's cheeks.
"It was but a few, poor crumbs I cast upon the waters, that all this bread should come back to me after many days," he muttered in a broken voice.
"We were really very happy, professor, when we used to trudge the road together, plying our profession; but we are going to be much happier now, because our lives will be enlarged."