his thumb, as if it held the elixir of life, and
looked indestructible vitality from his great, bright eyes.

Hannah never ventured to ask another favor from mortal man, except the
very few in whom she could place entire confidence, such as the pastor
of the parish, the Professor of Odd Jobs, and old Jovial. Especially she
shunned Nutt's shop as she would have shunned a pesthouse; although this
course obliged her to go two miles farther to another village to procure
necessaries whenever she had money to pay for them.

Nutt, on his part, did not think it prudent to prosecute Hannah for
assault. But he did a base thing more fatal to her reputation. He told
his wife how that worthless creature, whose sister turned out so badly,
had come running after him, wanting to get goods from his shop, and
teasing him to come to see her; but that he had promptly ordered her out
of the shop and threatened her with a constable if ever she dared to
show her face there again.

False, absurd, and cruel as this story was, Mrs. Nutt believed it, and
told all her acquaintances what an abandoned wretch that woman was. And
thus poor Hannah Worth lost all that she possessed in the world--her
good name. She had been very poor. But it would be too dreadful now to
tell in detail of the depths of destitution and misery into which she
and the child fell, and in which they suffered and struggled to keep
soul and body together for years and years.

It is wonderful how long life may be sustained under the severest
privations. Ishmael suffered the extremes of hunger and cold; yet he did
not starve or freeze to death; he lived and grew in that mountain hut as
pertinaciously as if he had been the pampered pet of some royal nursery.

At first Hannah did not love him. Ah, you know, such unwelcome children
are seldom loved, even by their parents. But this child was so patient
and affectionate, that it must have been an unnatural heart that would
not have been won by his artless efforts to please. He bore hunger and
cold and weariness with baby heroism. And if you doubt whether there is
any such a thing in the world as "baby heroism", just visit the nursery
hospitals of New York, and look at the cheerfulness of infant sufferers
from disease.

Ishmael was content to sit upon the floor all day long, with his big
eyes watching Hannah knit, sew, spin, or weave, as the case might be.
And if she happened to drop her thimble, scissors, spool of cotton, or
ball