The Crofton Boys Part 19

"No, no; that won't do. We can't talk so. Do just go, and see whether aunt cannot let you be there for this one afternoon."

Agnes did not like to refuse anything to Hugh: but she hesitated to take such a bold step as this. In his eagerness, Hugh requested the same favour of Tooke; but Tooke, more anxious even than Agnes to oblige, had not courage for such an errand. Hugh s.n.a.t.c.hed his crutches, and declared he would go himself. But now Agnes gave way. She gathered up her work, and left the room. Hugh little imagined where she went, this cold, darkening December afternoon. She went to her own room, put on her cloak, and walked up and down till tea was ready, without fire or candle, and not very happy in her mind.

Meanwhile the boys basked before a glowing fire. Tooke began directly to open his full heart.

"Was that true that your sister said at dinner, about your always longing so to come to Crofton!"

"Yes."

"How sorry you must be that you came! How you must wish that you had never seen me!"

"I knew that there would be things to bear, whenever I came; and particularly while I was the youngest. Your father told me that: and one of the things that made me want to come more than ever was his telling me how you bore things when you were the youngest--being set on the top of that wall, and so on."

"Indeed, indeed, I never meant to hurt you when I pulled your foot--I suppose you are quite sure that it was I that gave the first pull? Are you?"

"Why, yes; I am sure of that; and so are you: but I know very well that you meant no harm; and that is the reason I would not tell. After what you did about the sponge, I could not think you meant any harm to me."

Tooke could not remember anything about a sponge; and when he was told, he thought nothing of it. He went on--

"Do you think you shall never tell anybody, as long as you live, who pulled you first?"

"Never," said Hugh, "unless I tell it in my sleep; and that is not likely, for I never think about it in the daytime,--or scarcely ever; and when I can run about again, I dare say I shall never think of it at all."

"But will you ever run about?"

"O yes! Finely, you will see. I shall begin first with a little stick-leg, very light. Mother is going to send some for me to try.

When I am a man, I shall have one that will look like a real foot; but that will not be so light as the one you will see me with after the holidays. But you do not half know what I can do now, with my crutches.

Here, I will show you."

As he flourished about, and played antics, Agnes heard the pit-pat of his crutches, and she thought she might as well have been there, if they had told all their secrets, and had got to play. But the noise did not last long, for Hugh's performances did not make Tooke very merry; and the boys sat down quietly again.

"Now, I'll tell you what," said Tooke. "I am a bigger and stronger boy than you, without considering this accident I'll take care of you all the time you are at Crofton: and always afterwards, if I can. Mind you that. If anybody teases you, you call me,--that's all. Say you will."

"Why," said Hugh, "I had rather take care of myself. I had rather make no difference between you and everybody else."

"There now! You don't forgive me, after all."

"I do,--upon my word, I do. But why should I make any difference between you and the rest, when you did not mean me any harm,--any more than they? Besides, it might make people suspect."

"Well, let them. Sometimes I wish," continued Tooke, twisting himself about in the uneasiness of his mind, "sometimes I wish that everybody knew now. They say murderers cannot keep their secret. They are sure to tell, when they cannot bear it any longer."

"That is because of their consciences," said Hugh. "But you are not guilty of anything, you know. I am sure I can keep a secret easily enough, when I am not to blame in it."

"Yes! You have shown that. But--"

"Come! Don't let us talk any more about that--only just this. Has anybody accused you? Because I must know,--I must be on my guard."

"n.o.body has said a word, because my father put us all upon honour never to mention it: but I always feel as if all their eyes were upon me all day,--and sometimes in the night."

"Nonsense! I don't believe anybody has pitched on you particularly.

And when school opens again, all their eyes will be on me, to see how I manage. But I don't mean to mind that. Anybody may stare that likes."

Hugh sighed, however, after saying this; and Tooke was silent. At length he declared,--

"Whatever you say against it, I shall always take your part: and you have only to ask me, and I will always run anywhere, and do anything for you. Mind you that."

"Thank you," said Hugh. "Now tell me about the new usher; for I dare say you know more than the other boys do. Holt and I shall be under him altogether, I suppose."

"Yes: and you will be well off, by what I hear. He is as little like Mr Carnaby as need be."

All the rest of the afternoon was taken up with stories of Mr Carnaby and other ushers, so that the boys were surprised when the maid came to tell them that tea was ready.

Agnes was making tea. Hugh was so eager to repeat to his uncle some of the good stories that he had just heard, that he did not observe, as his aunt did, how red his sister's fingers were, and how she shivered still.

"My dear," said Mrs Shaw, "you have let these boys keep you away from the fire."

"Yes, aunt; never mind! I shall be warm enough presently."

"But you should not allow it, Agnes. How are they ever to learn manners, if they are not made to give way to young ladies while they are young? Boys are sure to be rude enough, at any rate. Their sisters should know better than to spoil them."

While poor Agnes' hardships were ending with a lecture, Hugh was chattering away, not at all aware that he had treated his sister much as Phil had treated him on his going to Crofton. If any one had told him that he was tyrannical, he would have been as much surprised as he had been at Phil's tyranny over him. He did not know indeed that his sister had been in the cold and in the dark; but he might have felt that he had used her with a roughness which is more painful to a loving heart than cold and darkness are to the body.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

HOLT AND HIS DIGNITY.

There was no reason now why Hugh should not go to church. He and his crutches went between his uncle and aunt in the gig one way, and between his uncle and Agnes home again; and he could walk up the aisle quite well. He had been pleased at the idea of attending church again, and had never thought of the pain of being stared at for his lameness. This pain came upon him as he entered the church; and as he went up towards his uncle's pew, and saw the crowd of Crofton boys all looking at him, and some of the poor people turning their heads as he pa.s.sed, to observe how he got on, he felt covered with confusion, and wished that he had waited one more Sunday, when the Crofton boys would have been all gone, and there would have been fewer eyes to mark his infirmity. But better thoughts soon arose, and made him ashamed of his false shame; and before the service was over, he felt how trifling is any misfortune while we are friends with G.o.d, in comparison with the least wrong-doing which sets us at a distance from him. He could not but feel after church that he had rather, a thousand times, be as he was than be poor Lamb, who slunk away from him, and hid himself behind the other boys,--his mind sore and troubled, no doubt, about his debt, and his cheating transaction, so long ago. Hugh asked some of the boys to bring up Lamb, to shake hands before parting for the holidays; but he would not come, and wriggled himself out of sight. Then Hugh recollected that he could forgive Lamb as well without Lamb's knowing it; and he let him alone.

Then there was Holt. He and Holt had parted on uneasy terms; and Holt now looked shy and uncomfortable. Hugh beckoned to him, and asked him whether he was really to remain at Crofton all the holidays.

"Yes," said Holt. "I am the only one not going home, unless you are to stay hereabouts. Even Tooke is to be at his uncle's in London. When do you go home?"

"Not quite yet;--not at the beginning of the holidays," said Hugh, hesitating, and looking up at his uncle. For, in truth, he did not know exactly what was planned for him, and had been afraid to ask.

His uncle said, very kindly, that he was not going to part with Hugh till school opened again. He would recover his full strength better in the country; and his aunt had promised his parents that he should be a stout boy again by the time he was wanted at Crofton.

This was what Hugh had dreaded to hear; and when he thought that he should not see his parents, nor little Harry, for so many months, his heart sank. But he was still in the church; and perhaps the place helped him to remember his mother's expectation that he should not fail, and his own resolution to bear cheerfully whatever troubles his misfortune brought upon him, from the greatest to the least. So when he heard his uncle saying to Holt that he should ask Mr Tooke to let him come and spend two or three weeks at his house, he said so heartily that he hoped Holt would come, that Holt felt that whatever discontent had been between them was forgiven and forgotten.

Phil went home, of course; and when Holt arrived at Mr Shaw's, Agnes also returned to London, that she might see something of Phil. Then the two boys were glad to be together, though Hugh would rather have had his dear friend Dale for a companion; and Holt knew that this was the case.

Yet Hugh saw, and was glad to see, that Holt was improved. He had plucked up some spirit, and was more like other lads, though still, by his own account, too much like a timid, helpless foreigner among the rough Crofton boys.

All the boys had some lessons to prepare in the holidays. Every one who had ever written a theme had a theme to write now. Every boy who could construe had a good piece of Latin to prepare; and all had either Latin or English verses to learn by heart. Mrs Shaw made a point of her young visitors sitting down every morning after breakfast to their business; and Hugh was anxious to spare no pains, this time, about his theme, that, if he was to be praised, he might deserve it. He saw that Holt could not fix his attention well, either upon work or play; and one morning, when Hugh was pondering how, without knowing anything of history, he should find a modern example to match well with his ancient one (which he had picked up by chance), Holt burst upon his meditation with--

"I have a good mind to tell you what has been upon my mind this ever so long."

"Wait a minute," said Hugh. "I must find my example first."