se you! Come, now, I'll read to you what General Marion did when--"

"No, don't, that's a good boy," exclaimed Hannah, interrupting him in
alarm, for she had a perfect horror of books. "You know it would tire me
to death, dear! But just you sit down by me and tell me about Mrs.
Middleton and Miss Merlin and how they were dressed. For you know, dear,
as I haven't been able to go to church these three months, I don't even
know what sort of bonnets ladies wear."

This requirement was for a moment a perfect "poser" to Ishmael. He
wasn't interested in bonnets! But, however, as he had the faculty of
seeing, understanding, and remembering everything that fell under his
observation in his own limited sphere, he blew out his candle, sat down
and complied with his aunt's request, narrating and describing until she
went to sleep. Then he relighted his little bit of candle and sat down
to enjoy his book in comfort.

That night the wind shifted to the south and brought in a mild spell of
weather.

The next day the snow began to melt. In a week it was entirely gone. In
a fortnight the ground had dried. All the roads became passable. With
the improved weather, Hannah grew better. She was able to leave her bed
in the morning and sit in her old arm-chair in the chimney-corner all
day.

The professor came to look after his pupil.

Poor old odd-jobber! In his palmiest days he had never made more than
sufficient for the support of his large family; he had never been able
to lay up any money; and so, during this long and severe winter, when he
was frozen out of work, he and his humble household suffered many
privations; not so many as Hannah and Ishmael had; for you see, there
are degrees of poverty even among the very poor.

And the good professor knew this; and so on that fine March morning,
when he made his appearance at the hut, it was with a bag of flour on
his back and a side of bacon in his hand.

After the primitive manners of the neighborhood, he dispensed with
rapping, and just lifted the latch and walked in.

He found Hannah sitting propped up in her arm-chair in the
chimney-corner engaged in knitting and glancing ruefully at the
unfinished web of cloth in the motionless loom, at which she was not yet
strong enough to work.

Ishmael was washing his own clothes in a little tub in the other corner.

"Morning, Miss Hannah! Morning, young Ishmael!" said the professor,
depositing both his bag and bacon on the floor. "I th