"I mean, ma'am, as it wasn't altogether myself as the credit is due to."

"To whom else, then, I should like to know?" inquired the lady in
perplexity.

"Why, ma'am, it was all along of Israel Putnam. I knew he would have
done it, and so I felt as if I was obliged to!"

"What a very strange lad! I really do not quite know what to make of
him!" exclaimed the lady, appealing to the professor for want of a
better oracle.

"Why, you see, ma'am, Ishmael is a noble boy and a real hero; but he is
a bit of a heathen for all that, with a lot of false gods, as he is
everlasting a-falling down and a-worshiping of! And the names of his
gods are Washington, Jefferson, Putnam, Marion, Hancock, Henry, and the
lot! The History of the United States is his Bible, ma'am, and its
warriors and statesmen are his saints and prophets. But by-and-by, when
Ishmael grows older, ma'am, he will learn, when he does any great or
good action, to give the glory to God, and not to those dead and gone
old heroes who were only flesh and blood like himself," said the
professor.

Mrs. Middleton looked perplexed, as if the professor's explanation
itself required to be explained. And Ishmael, who seemed to think that a
confession of faith was imperatively demanded of him, looked anxious--as
if eager, yet ashamed, to speak. Presently he conquered his shyness, and
said:

"But you are mistaken, professor. I am not a heathen. I wish to be a
Christian. And I do give the glory of all that is good and great to the
Lord, first of all. I do honor the good and great men; but I do glorify
and worship the Lord who made them." And having said this, Ishmael
collapsed, hung his head, and blushed.

"And I know he is not a heathen, you horrid old humbug of a professor!
He is a brave, good boy, and I love him!" said Miss Claudia, joining the
circle and caressing Ishmael.

But, ah! again it was as if she had caressed Fido, and said that he was
a brave, good dog, and she loved him.

"It was glorious in you to risk your life to save those good-for-nothing
boys, who were your enemies besides! It was so! And it makes my heart
burn to think of it! Stoop down and kiss me, Ishmael!"

Our little hero had the instincts of a gallant little gentleman. And
this challenge was to be in no wise rejected. And though he blushed
until his very ears seemed like two little flames, he stooped and
touched with his lips the beautiful white forehead that gleamed like
marble beneath it