he behest.

With a reddening cheek, Ishmael gently essayed to pass to his seat; but
the imperious little lady held fast his hand, as, with a more peremptory
tone, she said:

"Stop! I want Bee to see you! Come here, Bee, this instant, and look at
Ishmael!"

This time a little golden-haired, fair-faced girl came from the group of
children collected at the window, and stood before Claudia.

"There, now, Bee, look at the new pupil! Does he look like a common
boy--a poor laborer's son?"

The little girl addressed as Bee was evidently afraid to disobey Claudia
and ashamed to obey her. She therefore stood in embarrassment.

"Look at him, can't you? he won't bite you!" said Miss Claudia.

Ishmael felt reassured by the very shyness of the little new
acquaintance that was being forced upon him, and he said, very gently:

"I will not frighten you, little girl; I am not a rude boy."

"I know you will not; it is not that," murmured the little maiden,
encouraged by the sweet voice, and stealing a glance at the gentle,
intellectual countenance of our lad.

"There, now, does he look like a laborer's son?" inquired Claudia.

"No," murmured Bee.

"But he is, for all that! He is the son of--of--I forget; but some
relation of Hannah Worth, the weaver. Who was your father, Ishmael? I
never heard--or if I did I have forgotten. Who was he?"

Ishmael's face grew crimson. Yet he could not have told, because he did
not know, why this question caused his brow to burn as though it had
been smitten by a red-hot iron.

"Who was your father, I ask you, Ishmael?" persisted the imperious
little girl.

"I do not remember my father, Miss Claudia," answered the boy, in a low,
half-stifled voice.

"And now you have hurt his feelings, Claudia; let him alone," whispered
the fair child, in a low voice, as the tears of a vague but deep
sympathy, felt but not understood, arose to her eyes.

Before another word could be said Mrs. Middleton entered the room.

"Ah, Bee, so your are making acquaintance with your new schoolmate! This
is my oldest daughter, Miss Beatrice, Ishmael. We call her Bee, because
it is the abbreviation of Beatrice, and because she is such a busy,
helpful little lady," she said, as she shook hands with the boy and
patted the little girl on the head.

The entrance of the teachers and the day pupils broke up this little
group; the children took their seats and the school was opened, as
before, with prayer. This morning t