Hugh's afternoon lessons were harder than those of the morning; and in
the evening he found he had so much to do that there was very little
time left for writing his letter home. Some time there was, however;
and Firth did not forget to rule his paper, and to let Hugh use his ink.
Hugh had been accustomed to copy the prints he found in the Voyages and
Travels he read; and he could never see a picture of a savage but he
wanted to copy it. He was thus accustomed to a pretty free use of his
slate-pencil. He now thought that it would save a great deal of
description if he sent a picture or two in his letter: so he flourished
off, on the first page, a sketch of Mr Tooke sitting at his desk at the
top of the school, and of Mr Carnaby standing at his desk at the bottom
of the school.
The next evening he made haste to fill up the sheet, for he found his
business increasing upon his hands so fast that he did not know when he
should get his letter off, if he did not despatch it at once. He was
just folding it up when Tom Holt observed that it was a pity not to put
some words into the mouths of the figures, to make them more animated;
and he showed Hugh, by the curious carvings of their desks, how to put
words into the mouths of figures. Hugh then remembered having seen this
done in the caricatures in the print-shops in London; and he seized on
the idea. He put into Mr Tooke's mouth the words which were oftenest
heard from him, "Proceed, gentlemen;" and into Mr Carnaby's, "Hold your
din."
Firth was too busy with his sense-verses to mind the little boys, as
they giggled, with their heads close together, over Hugh's sheet of
paper; but the usher was never too busy to be aware of any fun which
might possibly concern his dignity. He had his eye on the new boys the
whole while. He let Hugh direct his letter, and paint up a stroke or
two which did not look so well as the rest; and it was not till Hugh was
rolling the wafer about on his tongue that he interfered. Mr Carnaby
then came up, tapped Hugh's head, told him not to get on so fast, for
that every letter must be looked over before it went to the post. While
saying this, he took the letter, and put it into his waistcoat pocket.
In vain Hugh begged to have it again, saying he would write another.
The more he begged, and the more dismayed Tom Holt looked, the less Mr
Carnaby would attend to either. Firth let himself be interrupted to
hear the case: but he could do nothing in it. It was a general rule,
which he thought every boy had known; and it was too late now to prevent
the letter being looked over.
Mr Carnaby was so angry at the liberty Hugh had taken with his face and
figure, that, in spite of all prayers, and a good many tears, he walked
up the school with the letter, followed by poor Hugh, as soon as Mr
Tooke had taken his seat next morning. Hugh thought that Holt, who had
put him up to the most offensive part of the pictures, might have borne
him company; but Holt was a timid boy, and he really had not courage to
leave his seat. So Hugh stood alone, awaiting Mr Tooke's awful words,
while the whole of the first class looked up from their books, in
expectation of what was to happen. They waited some time for the
master's words; for he was trying to help laughing. He and Mr Carnaby
were so much alike in the pictures, and both so like South Sea
islanders, that it was impossible to help laughing at the thought of
this sketch going abroad as a representation of the Crofton masters. At
last all parties laughed aloud, and Mr Tooke handed Hugh his
wafer-glass, and bade him wafer up his letter, and by all means send it.
Mr Carnaby could not remain offended if his principal was not angry:
so here the matter ended, except that Hugh made some strong resolutions
about his future letters, and that the corners of the master's mouth
were seen to be out of their usual order several times in the course of
the morning.
This incident, and everything which haunted Hugh's mind, and engrossed
his attention, was a serious evil to him; for his business soon grew to
be more than his habit of mind was equal to. In a few days, he learned
to envy the boys (and they were almost the whole school) who could fix
their attention completely and immediately on the work before them, and
relax as completely, when it was accomplished. When his eyes were
wandering, they observed boy after boy frowning over his dictionary, or
repeating to himself, earnestly and without pause; and presently the
business was done, and the learner at ease, feeling confident that he
was ready to meet his master. After double the time had passed Hugh was
still trying to get the meaning of his lesson into his head--going over
the same words a dozen times, without gaining any notion of their
meaning--suffering, in short from his long habit of inattention at home.
He did now try hard; but he seemed to get only headaches for his pains.
His brother saw enough to make him very sorry for Hugh before ten days
were over. He might not, perhaps, have been struck with his anxious
countenance, his frequent starts, and his laying his head down on his
desk because it ached so, if it had not been for what happened at night.
Sometimes Hugh started out of bed, and began to dress, when the elder
boys went up with their light, only an hour after the younger ones.
Sometimes he would begin saying his syntax in the middle of the night,
fancying he was standing before Mr Carnaby; and once he walked in his
sleep as far as the head of the stairs, and then suddenly woke, and
could not make out where he was. Phil should have told Mr Tooke of
these things; but Hugh was so very anxious that nobody should know of
his "tricks" (as the boys in his room called his troubles), that Phil
only mentioned the matter to Mrs Watson, who had known so many bad
sleepers among little boys, and had so little idea that the habit was
anything new, that she took scarcely any notice of it. She had his hair
cut very short and close, and saw that he took a moderate supper, and
was satisfied that all would be well. Hugh did not part with his hair
till he had joked himself about its length as much as any one could quiz
him for it. When he had pulled it down over the end of his nose, and
peeped through it, like an owl out of an ivy-bush, he might be supposed
to part with it voluntarily, and not because he was laughed at.
Phil's observation of his brother's toil and trouble led him to give him
some help. Almost every day he would hear Hugh say his lesson--or try
to say it; for the poor boy seldom succeeded. Phil sometimes called him
stupid, and sometimes refrained from saying so, whatever he might think;
but there really was very little difference in the result, whether Phil
heard the lessons beforehand or not; and it gave Joe Cape a great
advantage over Phil that he had no little brother to attend to.
Considering how selfish rivalship is apt to make boys (and even men), it
was perhaps no wonder that Phil sometimes kept out of Hugh's way at the
right hour, saying to himself that his proper business was to do his
lessons, and get or keep ahead of Joe Cape; and that Hugh must take his
chance, and work his own way, as other boys had to do. This conduct
might not be wondered at in Phil; but it hurt Hugh, and made him do his
lessons all the worse. He did not like to expose his brother's
unkindness to any one, or he would oftener have asked Firth to help him.
Firth, too, had plenty of work of his own to do. More than once,
however, Firth met the little lad, wandering about, with his grammar in
his hand, in search of the hidden Phil; and then Firth would stop him,
and sit down with him, and have patience, and give him such clear
explanations, such good examples of the rules he was to learn, that it
all became easy, and Hugh found his lessons were to him only what those
of other boys seemed to them. Still, however, and at the best, Hugh
was, as a learner, far too much at the mercy of circumstances--the
victim of what passed before his eyes, or was said within his hearing.
Boys who find difficulty in attending to their lessons are sure to be
more teased with interruptions than any others. Holt had not the habit
of learning; and he and Hugh were continually annoyed by the boys who
sat near them watching how they got on, and making remarks upon them.
One day, Mr Tooke was called out of the school-room to a visitor, and
Mr Carnaby went up to take the master's place, and hear his class.
This was too good an opportunity for the boys below to let slip; and
they began to play tricks,--most of them directed against Hugh and Tom
Holt. One boy, Warner, began to make the face that always made Holt
laugh, however he tried to be grave. Page drew a caricature of Mrs
Watson on his slate, and held it up; and Davison took a mask out of his
desk, and even ventured to tie it on, as if it had not been school-time.
"I declare I can't learn my lesson--'tis too bad!" cried Hugh.
"'Tis a shame!" said Tom Holt, sighing for breath after his struggle not
to laugh. "We shall never be ready."
Hugh made gestures of indignation at the boys, which only caused worse
faces to be made, and the mask to nod.
"We wont look at them," proposed Holt. "Let us cover our eyes, and not
look up at all."
Hugh put his hands before his eyes; but still his mind's eye saw the
grinning mask, and his lesson did not get on. Besides, a piece of wet
sponge lighted on the very page he was learning from. He looked up
fiercely, to see who had thrown it. It was no other than Tooke, who
belonged to that class:--it was Tooke, to judge by his giggle, and his
pretending to hide his face, as if ashamed. Hugh tossed back the
sponge, so as to hit Tooke on the nose. Then Tooke was angry, and threw
it again, and the sponge passed backwards and forwards several times:
for Hugh was by this time very angry,--boiling with indignation at the
hardship of not being able to learn his lesson, when he really would if
he could. While the sponge was still passing to and fro, Mr Carnaby's
voice was heard from the far end of the room, desiring Warner, Page,
Davison, and Tooke to be quiet, and let the boys alone till Mr Tooke
came in, when Mr Tooke would take his own measures.
Hugh, wondering how Mr Carnaby knew, at that distance, what was going
on, found that Holt was no longer by his side. In a moment, Holt
returned to his seat, flushed and out of breath. A very slight hiss was
heard from every form near, as he came down the room.
"O! Holt! You have been telling tales!" cried Hugh.
"Telling tales!" exclaimed Holt, in consternation, for Holt knew nothing
of school ways. "I never thought of that. They asked me to tell Mr
Carnaby that we could not learn our lessons."
"They! Who? I am sure I never asked you."
"No; you did not: but Harvey and Prince did,--and Gillingham. They said
Mr Carnaby would soon make those fellows quiet; and they told me to
go."
"You hear! They are calling you `tell-tale.' That will be your name
now. Oh, Holt! You should not have told tales. However, I will stand
by you," Hugh continued, seeing the terror that Holt was in.
"I meant no harm," said Holt, trembling. "Was not it a shame that they
would not let us learn our lessons?"
"Yes, it was--but--"
At this moment Mr Tooke entered the room. As he passed the forms, the
boys were all bent over their books, as if they could think of nothing
else. Mr Tooke walked up the room to his desk, and Mr Carnaby walked
down the room to _his_ desk; and then Mr Carnaby said, quite aloud,--
"Mr Tooke, sir."
"Well."
Here Holt sprang from his desk, and ran to the usher, and besought him
not to say a word about what Warner's class had been doing. He even
hung on Mr Carnaby's arm in entreaty; but Mr Carnaby shook him off,
and commanded him back to his seat. Then the whole school heard Mr
Tooke told about the wry faces and the mask, and the trouble of the
little boys. Mr Tooke was not often angry; but when he was, his face
grew white, and his lips trembled. His face was white now. He stood
up, and called before him the little boy who had informed. Hugh chose
to go with Holt, though Holt had not gone up with him about the letter,
the other day; and Holt felt how kind this was. Mr Tooke desired to
know who the offenders were; and as they were named, he called to them
to stand up in their places. Then came the sentence. Mr Tooke would
never forgive advantage being taken of his absence. If there were boys
who could not be trusted while his back was turned, they must be made to
remember him when he was out of sight, by punishment. Page must remain
in school after hours, to learn twenty lines of Virgil; Davison twenty;
Tooke forty--
Here everybody looked round to see how Tooke bore his father being so
angry with him.
"Please, sir," cried one boy, "I saw little Proctor throw a sponge at
Tooke. He did it twice."
"Never mind!" answered Tooke. "I threw it at him first. It is my
sponge."
"And Warner," continued the master, as if he had not heard the
interruption, "considering that Warner has got off too easily for many
pranks of late,--Warner seventy."
Seventy! The idea of having anybody condemned, through him, to learn
seventy lines of Latin by heart, made Holt so miserable that the word
seventy seemed really to prick his very ears. Though Mr Tooke's face
was still white, Holt ventured up to him, "Pray, sir--"
"Not a word of intercession for those boys," said the master. "I will
not hear a word in their favour."
"Then, sir--"
"Well."
"I only want to say, then, that Proctor told no tales, sir. I did not
mean any harm, sir, but I told because--"
"Never mind that," cried Hugh, afraid that he would now be telling of
Harvey, Prince, and Gillingham, who had persuaded him to go up.
"I have nothing to do with that. That is your affair," said the master,
sending the boys back to their seats.
Poor Holt had cause to rue this morning, for long after. He was weary
of the sound of hissing, and of the name "tell-tale;" and the very boys
who had prompted him to go up were at first silent, and then joined
against him. He complained to Hugh of the difficulty of knowing what it
was right to do. He had been angry on Hugh's account chiefly; and he
still thought it _was_ very unjust to hinder their lessons, when they
wished not to be idle: and yet they were all treating him as if he had
done something worse than the boys with the mask. Hugh thought all this
was true: but he believed it was settled among schoolboys (though Holt
had never had the opportunity of knowing it) that it was a braver thing
for boys to bear any teasing from one another than to call in the power
of the master to help. A boy who did that was supposed not to be able
to take care of himself; and for this he was despised, besides being
disliked, for having brought punishment upon his companions.
Holt wished Hugh had not been throwing sponges at the time:--he wished
Hugh had prevented his going up. He would take good care how he told
tales again.
"You had better say so," advised Hugh; "and then they will see that you
had never been at school, and did not know how to manage."
The first Saturday had been partly dreaded, and partly longed for, by
Hugh. He had longed for the afternoon's ramble; but Saturday morning
was the time for saying tables, among other things. Nothing happened as
he had expected. The afternoon was so rainy that there was no going
out; and, as for the tables, he was in a class of five; and "four times
seven" did not come to him in regular course. Eight times seven did,
and he said "fifty-six" with great satisfaction, Mr Carnaby asked him
afterwards the dreaded question, but he was on his guard; and as he
answered it right, and the usher had not found out the joke, he hoped he
should hear no more of the matter.
The next Saturday was fine, and at last he was to have the walk he
longed for. The weekly repetitions were over, dinner was done, Mr
Carnaby appeared with his hat on, the whole throng burst into the open
air, and out of bounds, and the new boys were wild with expectation and
delight. When they had passed the churchyard and the green, and were
wading through the sandy road which led up to the heath, Firth saw Hugh
running and leaping hither and thither, not knowing what to do with his
spirits. Firth called him, and putting his arm round Hugh's neck, so as
to keep him prisoner, said he did not know how he might want his
strength before he got home, and he had better not spend it on a bit of
sandy road. So Hugh was made to walk quietly, and gained his breath
before the breezy heath was reached.
On the way, he saw that a boy of the name of Dale, whom he had never
particularly observed before, was a good deal teased by some boys who
kept crossing their hands before them, and curtseying like girls,
talking in a mincing way, and calling one another Amelia, with great
affectation. Dale tried to get away, but he was followed, whichever way
he turned.
"What do they mean by that?" inquired Hugh of Firth.
"Dale has a sister at a school not far off, and her name is Amelia; and
she came to see him to-day. Ah! You have not found out yet that boys
are laughed at about their sisters, particularly if the girls have fine
names."
"What a shame!" cried Hugh; words which he had used very often already
since he came to Crofton.
He broke from Firth, ran up to Dale, and said to him, in a low voice, "I
have two sisters, and one of them is called Agnes."
"Don't let them come to see you, then, or these fellows will quiz you as
they do me. As if I could help having a sister Amelia!"
"Why, you are not sorry for that? You would not wish your sister dead,
or not born, would you?"
"No; but I wish she was not hereabouts: that is, I wish she had not come
up to the pales, with the maid-servant behind her, for everybody to see.
And then, when Mr Tooke sent us into the orchard together, some spies
were peeping over the wall at us all the time."
"I only wish Agnes would come," cried Hugh, "and I would--"
"Ah! You think so now; but depend upon it, you would like much better
to see her at home. Why, her name is finer than my sister's! I wonder
what girls ever have such names for!"
"I don't see that these names are finer than some boys' names. There's
Frazer, is not his name Colin? And then there's Hercules Fisticuff--"
"Why, you know--to be sure you know that is a nick-name?" said Dale.
"Is it? I never thought of that," replied Hugh. "What is his real
name?"
"Samuel Jones. However, there is Colin Frazer--and Fry, his name is
Augustus Adolphus; I will play them off the next time they quiz Amelia.
How old is your sister Agnes?"
Then the two boys wandered off among the furze bushes, talking about
their homes; and in a little while they had so opened their hearts to
each other, that they felt as if they had always been friends. Nobody
thought any more about them when once the whole school was dispersed
over the heath. Some boys made for a hazel copse, some way beyond the
heath, in hopes of finding a few nuts already ripe. Others had boats to
float on the pond. A large number played leap-frog, and some ran races.
Mr Carnaby threw himself down on a soft couch of wild thyme, on a
rising ground, and took out his book. So Dale and Hugh felt themselves
unobserved, and they chatted away at a great rate. Not but that an
interruption or two did occur. They fell in with a flock of geese, and
Hugh did not much like their appearance, never having heard a goose make
a noise before. He had eaten roast goose, and he had seen geese in the
feathers at the poulterers'; but he had never seen them alive, and
stretching their necks at passengers. He flinched at the first moment.
Dale, who never imagined that a boy who was not afraid of his
schoolfellows could be afraid of geese, luckily mistook the movement,
and said, "Ay, get a switch,--a bunch of furze will do, and we will be
rid of the noisy things."
He drove them away, and Hugh had now learned, for ever, how much noise
geese can make, and how little they are to be feared.
They soon came upon some creatures which were larger and stronger, and
with which Hugh was no better acquainted. Some cows were grazing, or
had been grazing, till a party of boys came up. They were now restless,
moving uneasily about, so that Dale himself hesitated for a moment which
way to go. Lamb was near,--the passionate boy, who was nobody's friend,
and who was therefore seldom at play with others. He was also something
of a coward, as any one might know from his frequent bullying. He and
Holt happened to be together at this time; and it was their appearance
of fright at the restless cows which frightened Hugh. One cow at last
began to trot towards them at a pretty good rate. Lamb ran off to the
right, and the two little boys after him, though Dale pulled at Hugh's
hand to make him stand still, as Dale chose to do himself. He pulled in
vain--Hugh burst away, and off went the three boys, over the hillocks
and through the furze, the cow trotting at some distance behind. They
did not pause till Lamb had led them off the heath into a deep lane,
different from the one by which they had come. The cow stopped at a
patch of green grass, just at the entrance of the hollow way; and the
runners therefore could take breath.
"Now we are here," said Lamb, "I will show you a nice place,--a place
where we can get something nice. How thirsty I am!"
"And so am I," declared Holt, smacking his dry tongue. Hugh's mouth was
very dry too, between the run and the fright.
"Well, then, come along with me, and I will show you," said Lamb.
Hugh thought they ought not to go farther from the heath: but Lamb said
they would get back by another way,--through a gate belonging to a
friend of his. They could not get back the way they came, because the
cow was there still. He walked briskly on till they came to a cottage,
over whose door swung a sign; and on the sign was a painting of a bottle
and a glass, and a heap of things which were probably meant for cakes,
as there were cakes in the window. Here Lamb turned in, and the woman
seemed to know him well. She smiled, and closed the door behind the
three boys, and asked them to sit down: but Lamb said there was no time
for that to-day,--she must be quick. He then told the boys that they
would have some ginger-beer.
"But may we?" asked the little boys.
"To be sure; who is to prevent us? You shall see how you like
ginger-beer when you are thirsty."
The woman declared that it was the most wholesome thing in the world;
and if the young gentleman did not find it so, she would never ask him
to taste her ginger-beer again. Hugh thanked them both; but he did not
feel quite comfortable. He looked at Holt, to find out what he thought:
but Holt was quite engrossed with watching the woman untwisting the wire
of the first bottle. The cork did not fly; indeed there was some
difficulty in getting it out: so Lamb waived his right, as the eldest,
to drink first; and the little boys were so long in settling which
should have it, that the little spirit there was had all gone off before
Hugh began to drink; and he did not find ginger-beer such particularly
good stuff as Lamb had said. He would have liked a drink of water
better. The next bottle was very brisk: so Lamb seized upon it; and the
froth hung round his mouth when he had done: but Holt was no better off
with his than Hugh had been. They were both urged to try their luck
again. Hugh would not: but Holt did once; and Lamb, two or three times.
Then the woman offered them some cakes upon a plate: and the little
boys thanked her, and took each one. Lamb put some in his pocket, and
advised the others to do the same, as they had no time to spare. He
kept some room in his pocket, however, for some plums; and told the boys
that they might carry theirs in their handkerchiefs, or in their caps,
if they would take care to have finished before they came within sight
of the usher. He then asked the woman to let them out upon the heath
through her garden gate; and she said she certainly would when they had
paid. She then stood drumming with her fingers upon the table, and
looking through the window, as if waiting.
"Come, Proctor, you have half-a-crown," said Lamb. "Out with it!"
"My half-crown!" exclaimed Proctor. "You did not say I had anything to
pay."
"As if you did not know that, without my telling you! You don't think
people give away their good things, I suppose! Come,--where's your
half-crown? My money is all at home."
Holt had nothing with him either. Lamb asked the woman what there was
to pay. She seemed to count and consider; and Holt told Hugh afterwards
that he saw Lamb wink at her. She then said that the younger gentlemen
had had the most plums and cakes. The charge was a shilling a piece for
them, and sixpence for Master Lamb:--half-a-crown exactly. Hugh
protested he never meant anything like this, and that he wanted part of
his half-crown to buy a comb with; and he would have emptied out the
cakes and fruit he had left; but the woman stopped him, saying that she
never took back what she had sold. Lamb hurried him, too, declaring
that their time was up; and he even thrust his finger and thumb into
Hugh's inner pocket, and took out the half-crown, which he gave to the
woman. He was sure that Hugh could wait for his comb till Holt paid
him, and the woman said she did not see that any more combing was
wanted: the young gentleman's hair looked so pretty as it was. She then
showed them through the garden, and gave them each a marigold
full-blown. She unlocked her gate, pushed them through, locked it
behind them, and left them to hide their purchases as well as they
could. Though the little boys stuffed their pockets till the ripest
plums burst, and wetted the linings, they could not dispose of them all;
and they were obliged to give away a good many.
Hugh went in search of his new friend, and drew him aside from the rest
to relate his trouble. Dale wondered he had not found out Lamb before
this, enough to refuse to follow his lead. Lamb would never pay a
penny. He always spent the little money he had upon good things, the
first day or two; and then he got what he could out of any one who was
silly enough to trust him.
"But," said Hugh, "the only thing we had to do with each other before
was by my being kind to him."
"That makes no difference," said Dale.
"But what a bad boy he must be! To be sure, he will pay me, when he
knows how much I want a comb."
"He will tell you to buy it out of your five shillings. You let him
know you had five shillings in Mrs Watson's hands."
"Yes; but he knows how I mean to spend that,--for presents to carry home
at Christmas. But I'll never tell him anything again. Oh! Dale! Do
you really think he will never pay me?"
"He never pays anybody; that is all I know. Come,--forget it all, as
fast as you can. Let us go and see if we can get any nuts."
Hugh did not at all succeed in his endeavours to forget his adventure.
The more he thought about it, the worse it seemed; and the next time he
spoke to Holt, and told him to remember that he owed him a shilling,
Holt said he did not know that,--he did not mean to spend a shilling;
and it was clear that it was only his fear of Hugh's speaking to Mrs
Watson or the usher, that prevented his saying outright that he should
not pay it. Hugh felt very hot, and bit his lip to make his voice
steady when he told Dale, on the way home, that he did not believe he
should ever see any part of his half-crown again. Dale thought so too;
but he advised him to do nothing more than keep the two debtors up to
the remembrance of their debt. If he told so powerful a person as
Firth, it would be almost as much tale-telling as if he went to the
master at once; and Hugh himself had no inclination to expose his folly
to Phil, who was already quite sufficiently ashamed of his inexperience.
So poor Hugh threw the last of his plums to some cottager's children on
the green, in his way home; and, when he set foot within bounds again,
he heartily wished that this Saturday afternoon had been rainy too; for
any disappointment would have been better than this scrape.
While learning his lessons for Monday, he forgot the whole matter; and
then he grew merry over the great Saturday night's washing; but after he
was in bed, it flashed upon him that he should meet uncle and aunt Shaw
in church to-morrow, and they would speak to Phil and him after church;
and his uncle might ask after the half-crown. He determined not to
expose his companions, at any rate: but his uncle would be displeased;
and this thought was so sad that Hugh cried himself to sleep. His uncle
and aunt were at church the next morning; and Hugh could not forget the
ginger-beer, or help watching his uncle: so that, though he tried
several times to attend to the sermon; he knew nothing about it when it
was done. His uncle observed in the churchyard that they must have had
a fine ramble the day before; but did not say anything about
pocket-money. Neither did he name a day for his nephews to visit him,
though he said they must come before the days grew much shorter. So
Hugh thought he had got off very well thus far. In the afternoon,
however, Mrs Watson, who invited him and Holt into her parlour, to look
over the pictures in her great Bible, was rather surprised to find how
little Hugh could tell her of the sermon, considering how much he had
remembered the Sunday before. She had certainly thought that to-day's
sermon had been the simpler, and the more interesting to young people,
of the two. Her conversation with Hugh did him good, however. It
reminded him of his mother's words, and of her expectations from him;
and it made him resolve to bear, not only his loss, but any blame which
might come upon him silently, and without betraying anybody. He had
already determined, fifty times within the twenty-four hours, never to
be so weakly led again, when his own mind was doubtful, as he had felt
it all the time from leaving the heath to getting back to it again. He
began to reckon on the Christmas holidays, when he should have five
weeks at home, free from the evils of both places,--from lessons with
Miss Harold, and from Crofton scrapes.
It is probable that the whole affair would have passed over quietly, and
the woman in the lane might have made large profits by other
inexperienced boys, and Mr Carnaby might have gone on being careless as
to where the boys went out of his sight on Saturdays, but that Tom Holt
ate too many plums on the present occasion. On Sunday morning he was
not well; and was so ill by the evening, and all Monday, that he had to
be regularly nursed; and when he left his bed, he was taken to Mrs
Watson's parlour,--the comfortable, quiet place where invalid boys
enjoyed themselves. Poor Holt was in very low spirits; and Mrs Watson
was so kind that he could not help telling her that he owed a shilling,
and he did not know how he should ever pay it; and that Hugh Proctor,
who had been his friend till now, seemed on a sudden much more fond of
Dale; and this made it harder to be in debt to him.
The wet, smeared lining of the pockets had told Mrs Watson already that
there had been some improper indulgence in good things; and when she
heard what part Lamb had played towards the little boys, she thought it
right to tell Mr Tooke. Mr Tooke said nothing till Holt was in the
school again, which was on Thursday; and not then till the little boys
had said their lessons, at past eleven o'clock. They were drawing on
their slates, and Lamb was still mumbling over his book, without getting
on, when the master's awful voice was heard, calling up before him Lamb,
little Proctor, and Holt. All three started, and turned red; so that
the school concluded them guilty before it was known what they were
charged with. Dale knew,--and he alone; and very sorry he was, for the
intimacy between Hugh and him had grown very close indeed since
Saturday.
The master was considerate towards the younger boys. He made Lamb tell
the whole. Even when the cowardly lad "bellowed" (as his school-fellows
called his usual mode of crying) so that nothing else could be heard,
Mr Tooke waited, rather than question the other two. When the whole
story was extracted, in all its shamefulness, from Lamb's own lips, the
master expressed his disgust. He said nothing about the money part of
it--about how Hugh was to be paid. He probably thought it best for the
boys to take the consequences of their folly in losing their money. He
handed the little boys over to Mr Carnaby to be caned--"To make them
remember," as he said; though they themselves were pretty sure they
should never forget. Lamb was kept to be punished by the master
himself. Though Lamb knew he should be severely flogged, and though he
was the most cowardly boy in the school, he did not suffer so much as
Hugh did in the prospect of being caned--being punished at all. Phil,
who knew his brother's face well, saw, as he passed down the room, how
miserable he was--too miserable to cry; and Phil pulled him by the
sleeve, and whispered that being caned was nothing to mind--only a
stroke or two across the shoulders. Hugh shook his head, as much as to
say, "It is not that."
No--it was not the pain. It was the being punished in open school, and
when he did not feel that he deserved it. How should he know where Lamb
was taking him? How should he know that the ginger-beer was to be paid
for, and that he was to pay? He felt himself injured enough already:
and now to be punished in addition! He would have died on the spot for
liberty to tell Mr Tooke and everybody what he thought of the way he
was treated. He had felt his mother hard sometimes; but what had she
ever done to him compared with this? It was well he thought of his
mother. At the first moment, the picture of home in his mind nearly
made him cry--the thing of all others he most wished to avoid while so
many eyes were on him; but the remembrance of what his mother expected
of him--her look when she told him _he must not fail_, gave him courage.
Hard as it was to be, as he believed, unjustly punished, it was better
than having done anything very wrong--anything that he really could not
have told his mother.
Mr Carnaby foresaw that a rebuke was in store for him for his
negligence during the walk on Saturday; and this anticipation did not
sweeten his mood. He kept the little boys waiting, though Holt was
trembling very much, and still weak from his illness. It occurred to
the usher that another person might be made uncomfortable; and he
immediately acted on the idea. He had observed how fond of one another
Dale and Hugh had become; and he thought he would plague Dale a little.
He therefore summoned him, and desired him to go, and bring him a
switch, to cane these boys with.
"I have broken my cane; so bring me a stout switch," said he. "Bring me
one out of the orchard; one that will lay on well--one that will not
break with a good hard stroke;--mind what I say--one that will not
break."
"Yes, sir," replied Dale, readily; and he went as if he was not at all
unwilling. Holt shivered. Hugh never moved.
It was long, very long, before Dale returned. When he did, he brought a
remarkably stout broomstick.
"This won't break, I think, sir," said he.
The boys giggled. Mr Carnaby knuckled Dale's head as he asked him if
he called that a switch.
"Bring me a _switch_" said he. "One that is not too stout, or else it
will not sting. It must sting, remember,--sting well. Not too stout,
remember."
"Yes, sir," said Dale; and away he went again.
He was now gone yet longer; and by the time he returned everybody's eyes
were fixed on the door, to see what sort of a switch would next appear.
Dale entered, bringing a straw.
"I think this will not be too stout, sir."
Everybody laughed but Hugh--even Holt.
There was that sneer about Mr Carnaby's nose which made everybody sorry
now for Dale: but everybody started, Mr Carnaby and all, at Mr Tooke's
voice, close at hand. How much he had seen and heard, there was no
knowing; but it was enough to make him look extremely stern.
"Are these boys not caned yet, Mr Carnaby?"
"No, sir:--I have not--I--"
"Have they been standing here all this while?"
"Yes, sir. I have no cane, sir. I have been sending--"
"I ordered them an immediate caning, Mr Carnaby, and not mental
torture. School is up," he declared to the boys at large. "You may
go--you have been punished enough," he said to the little boys. "Mr
Carnaby, have the goodness to remain a moment."
And the large room was speedily emptied of all but the master, the
usher, and poor Lamb.
"The usher will catch it now," observed some boys, as the master himself
shut the door behind them. "He will get well paid for his spite."
"What will be done to him?" asked Hugh of Dale, whom he loved fervently
for having saved him from punishment.
"Oh, I don't know; and I don't care--though he was just going to give my
head some sound raps against the wall, if Mr Tooke had not come up at
the moment."
"But what _will_ be done to Mr Carnaby?"
"Never mind what: he won't be here long, they say. Fisher says there is
another coming; and Carnaby is here only till that other is at liberty."
This was good news, if true: and Hugh ran off, quite in spirits, to
play. He had set himself diligently to learn to play, and would not be
driven off; and Dale had insisted on fair scope for him. He played too
well to be objected to any more. They now went to leap-frog; and when
too hot to keep it up any longer, he and Dale mounted into the
apple-tree to talk, while they were cooling, and expecting the
dinner-bell.
Something happened very wonderful before dinner. The gardener went down
to the main road, and seemed to be looking out. At last he hailed the
London coach. Hugh and Dale could see from their perch. The coach
stopped, the gardener ran back, met Mr Carnaby under the chestnuts,
relieved him of his portmanteau, and helped him to mount the coach.
"Is he going? Gone for good?" passed from mouth to mouth, all over the
playground.
"Gone for good," was the answer of those who knew to a certainty.
The boys set up first a groan, so loud that perhaps the departing usher
heard it. Then they gave a shout of joy, in which the little boys
joined with all their might--Hugh waving his cap in the apple-tree.