Hugh got on far better with his lessons as he grew more intimate with
Dale. It was not so much that Dale helped him with his grammar and
construing (for Dale thought every boy should make shift to do his own
business) as that he liked to talk about his work, even with a younger
boy; and so, as he said, clear his head. A great deal that he said was
above Hugh's comprehension; and much of his repetitions mere words: but
there were other matters which fixed Hugh's attention, and proved to him
that study might be interesting out of school. When Dale had a theme to
write, the two boys often walked up and down the playground for half an
hour together, talking the subject over, and telling of anything they
had heard or read upon it. Hugh presently learned the names and the
meanings of the different parts of a theme; and he could sometimes help
with an illustration or example, though he left it to his friend to lay
down the Proposition, and search out the Confirmation. Dale's
nonsense-verses were perfect nonsense to Hugh: but his construing was
not: and when he went over it aloud, for the purpose of fixing his
lesson in his ear, as well as his mind, Hugh was sorry when they arrived
at the end, and eager to know what came next,--particularly if they had
to stop in the middle of a story of Ovid's. Every week, almost every
day now, made a great difference in Hugh's school-life. He still found
his lessons very hard work, and was often in great fear and pain about
them,--but he continually perceived new light breaking in upon his mind:
his memory served him better; the little he had learned came when he
wanted it, instead of just a minute too late. He rose in the morning
with less anxiety about the day: and when playing, could forget school.
There was no usher yet in Mr Carnaby's place; and all the boys said
their lessons to Mr Tooke himself: which Hugh liked very much, when he
had got over the first fear. A writing-master came from a distance
twice a week, when the whole school was at writing and arithmetic all
the afternoon: but every other lesson was said to the master; and this
was likely to go on till Christmas, as the new usher, of whom, it was
said, Mr Tooke thought so highly as to choose to wait for him, could
not come before that time. Of course, with so much upon his hands, Mr
Tooke had not a moment to spare; and slow or idle boys were sent back to
their desks at the first trip or hesitation in their lessons. Hugh was
afraid, at the outset, that he should be like poor Lamb, who never got a
whole lesson said during these weeks: and he was turned down sometimes;
but not often enough to depress him. He learned to trust more to his
ear and his memory: his mind became excited, as in playing a game: and
he found he got through, he scarcely knew how. His feeling of fatigue
afterwards proved to him that this was harder work than he had ever done
at home; but he did not feel it so at the time. When he could learn a
lesson in ten minutes, and say it in one; when he began to use Latin
phrases in his private thoughts, and saw the meaning of a rule of
syntax, so as to be able to find a fresh example out of his own head, he
felt himself really a Crofton boy, and his heart grew light within him.
The class to which Hugh belonged was one day standing waiting to be
heard, when the master was giving a subject and directions for an
English theme to Dale's class. The subject was the Pleasures of
Friendship. In a moment Hugh thought of Damon and Pythias, and of David
and Jonathan,--of the last of whom there was a picture in Mrs Watson's
great Bible. He thought how happy he had been since he had known Dale,
and his heart was in such a glow, he was sure he could write a theme.
He ran after Mr Tooke when school was over, and asked whether he might
write a theme with Dale's class. When Mr Tooke found he knew what was
meant by writing a theme, he said he might try, if he neglected nothing
for it, and wrote every word of it himself, without consultation with
any one.
Hugh scampered away to tell Dale that they must not talk over this theme
together, as they were both to do it; and then, instead of playing, he
went to his desk, and wrote upon his slate till it was quite full. He
had to borrow two slates before he had written all he had to say. Phil
ruled his paper for him; but before he had copied one page, his
neighbours wanted their slates back again,--said they must have them,
and rubbed out all he had written. Much of the little time he had was
lost in this way, and he grew wearied. He thought at first that his
theme would be very beautiful: but he now began to doubt whether it
would be worth anything at all; and he was vexed to have tired himself
with doing what would only make him laughed at. The first page was well
written out,--the Confirmation being properly separated from the
Proposition: but he had to write all the latter part directly from his
head upon the paper, as the slates were taken away; and he forgot to
separate the Conclusion from the Inference.
He borrowed a penknife, and tried to scratch out half a line; but he
only made a hole in the paper, and was obliged to let the line stand.
Then he found he had strangely forgotten to put in the chief thing of
all,--about friends telling one another of their faults,--though, on
consideration, he was not sure that this was one of the Pleasures of
Friendship: so, perhaps, it did not much matter. But there were two
blots; and he had left out Jonathan's name, which had to be interlined.
Altogether, it had the appearance of a very bad theme. Firth came and
looked over his shoulder, as he was gazing at it; and Firth offered to
write it out for him; and even thought it would be fair, as he had had
nothing to do with the composition: but Hugh could not think it would be
fair, and said, sighing, that his must take its chance. He did not
think he could have done a theme so very badly.
Mr Tooke beckoned him up with Dale's class, when they carried up their
themes; and, seeing how red his face was, the master bade him not be
afraid. But how could he help being afraid? The themes were not read
directly. It was Mr Tooke's practice to read them out of school-hours.
On this occasion, judgment was given the last thing before school broke
up the next morning.
Hugh had never been more astonished in his life. Mr Tooke praised his
theme very much, and said it had surprised him. He did not mind the
blots and mistakes, which would, he said, have been great faults in a
copy-book, but were of less consequence than other things in a theme.
Time and pains would correct slovenliness of that kind; and the thoughts
and language were good. Hugh was almost out of his wits with delight;
so nearly so that he spoiled his own pleasure completely. He could not
keep his happiness to himself, or his vanity: for Hugh had a good deal
of vanity,--more than he was aware of before this day. He told several
boys what Mr Tooke had said: but he soon found that would not do. Some
were indifferent, but most laughed at him. Then he ran to Mrs Watson's
parlour, and knocked. Nobody answered; for the room was empty: so Hugh
sought her in various places, and at last found her in the kitchen,
boiling some preserves.
"What do you come here for? This is no place for you," said she, when
the maids tried in vain to put Hugh out.
"I only want to tell you one thing," cried Hugh; and he repeated exactly
what Mr Tooke had said of his theme. Mrs Watson laughed, and the
maids laughed, and Hugh left them, angry with them, but more angry with
himself. They did not care for him,--nobody cared for him, he said to
himself; he longed for his mother's look or approbation when he had done
well, and Agnes' pleasure, and even Susan's fondness and praise. He
sought Dale. Dale was in the midst of a game, and had not a word or
look to spare till it was over. The boys would have admitted Hugh; for
he could now play as well as anybody; but he was in no mood for play
now. He climbed his tree, and sat there, stinging his mind with the
thought of his having carried his boastings into the kitchen, and with
his recollection of Mrs Watson's laugh.
It often happened that Firth and Hugh met at this tree; and it happened
now. There was room for both; and Firth mounted, and read for some
time. At last he seemed to be struck by Hugh's restlessness and heavy
sighs; and he asked whether he had not got something to amuse himself
with.
"No. I don't want to amuse myself," said Hugh, stretching so as almost
to throw himself out of the tree.
"Why, what's the matter? Did you not come off well with your theme? I
heard somebody say you were quite enough set up about it."
"Where is the use of doing a thing well, if nobody cares about it?" said
Hugh. "I don't believe anybody at Crofton cares a bit about me--cares
whether I get on well or ill--except Dale. If I take pains and succeed,
they only laugh at me."
"Ah! You don't understand school and schoolboys yet," replied Firth.
"To do a difficult lesson well is a grand affair at home, and the whole
house knows of it. But it is the commonest thing in the world here. If
you learn to feel with these boys, instead of expecting them to feel
with you (which they cannot possibly do), you will soon find that they
care for you accordingly."
Hugh shook his head.
"You will find it in every school in England," continued Firth, "that it
is not the way of boys to talk about feelings--about anybody's feelings.
That is the reason why they do not mention their sisters or their
mothers--except when two confidential friends are together, in a tree,
or by themselves in the meadows. But, as sure as ever a boy is full of
action--if he tops the rest at play--holds his tongue, or helps others
generously--or shows a manly spirit without being proud of it, the whole
school is his friend. You have done well, so far, by growing more and
more sociable; but you will lose ground if you boast about your lessons
out of school. To prosper at Crofton, you must put off home, and make
yourself a Crofton boy."
"I don't care about that," said Hugh. "I give it all up. There is
nothing but injustice here."
"Nothing but injustice! Pray, am I unjust?"
"No--not you--not so far. But--"
"Is Mr Tooke unjust?"
"Yes--very."
"Pray how, and when?"
"He has been so unjust to me, that if it had not been for something, I
could not have borne it. I am not going to tell you what that something
is: only you need not be afraid but that I can bear everything. If the
whole world was against me--"
"Well, never mind what that something is; but tell me how Mr Tooke is
unjust to you."
"He punished me when I did not deserve it; and he praised me when I did
not deserve it. I was cheated and injured that Saturday; and, instead
of seeing me righted, Mr Tooke ordered me to be punished. And to-day,
when my theme was so badly done that I made sure of being blamed, he
praised me."
"This might be injustice at home," replied Firth, "because parents know,
or ought to know, all that is in their children's minds, and exactly
what their children can do. A schoolmaster can judge only by what he
sees. Mr Tooke does not know yet that you could have done your theme
better than you did--as your mother would have known. When he finds you
can do better, he will not praise such a theme again. Meantime, how you
can boast of his praise, if you think it unjust, is the wonder to me."
"So it is to me now. I wish I had never asked to do that theme at all,"
cried Hugh, again stretching himself to get rid of his shame. "But why
did Mr Tooke order me to be caned? Why did he not make Lamb and Holt
pay me what they owe? I was injured before: and he injured me more."
"You were to be caned because you left the heath and entered a house
without leave--not because you had been cheated of your money."
"But I did not know where I was going. I never meant to enter a house."
"But you did both; and what you suffered will prevent your letting
yourself be led into such a scrape again. As for the money part of the
matter--a school is to boys what the world is when they become men.
They must manage their own affairs among themselves. The difference is,
that here is the master to be applied to, if we choose. He will advise
you about your money, if you choose to ask him: but, for my part, I
would rather put up with the loss, if I were you."
"Nobody will ever understand what I mean about justice," muttered Hugh.
"Suppose," said Firth, "while you are complaining of injustice in this
way, somebody else should be complaining in the same way of your
injustice."
"Nobody can--fairly," replied Hugh.
"Do you see that poor fellow, skulking there under the orchard-wall?"
"What, Holt?"
"Yes, Holt. I fancy the thought in his mind at this moment is that you
are the most unjust person at Crofton."
"I! Unjust!"
"Yes; so he thinks. When you first came, you and he were companions.
You found comfort in each other while all the rest were strangers to
you. You were glad to hear, by the hour together, what he had to tell
you about India, and his voyages and travels. Now he feels himself
lonely and forsaken, while he sees you happy with a friend. He thinks
it hard that you should desert him because he owes you a shilling, when
he was cheated quite as much as you."
"Because he owes me a shilling!" cried Hugh, starting to his feet, "as
if--"
Once more he had nearly fallen from his perch. Firth caught him; and
then asked him how Holt should think otherwise than as he did, since
Hugh had been his constant companion up to that Saturday afternoon, and
had hardly spoken to him since.
Hugh protested that the shilling had nothing to do with the matter; and
he never meant to take more than sixpence from Holt, because he thought
Lamb was the one who ought to pay the shilling. The thing was, he did
not, and could not, like Holt half so well as Dale. He could not make a
friend of Holt, because he wanted spirit--he had no courage. What could
he do? He could not pretend to be intimate with Holt when he did not
like him; and if he explained that the shilling had nothing to do with
the matter, he could not explain how it really was, when the fault was
in the boy's character, and not in his having given any particular
offence. What could he do?
Firth thought he could only learn not to expect, anywhere out of the
bounds of home, what he thought justice. He must, of course, try
himself to be just to everybody; but he must make up his mind in school,
as men have to do in the world, to be misunderstood--to be wrongly
valued; to be blamed when he felt himself the injured one; and praised
when he knew he did not deserve it.
"But it is so hard," said Hugh.
"And what do people leave home for but to learn hard lessons?"
"But still, if it were not for--"
"For what? Do you see any comfort under it?" asked Firth, fixing his
eyes on Hugh.
Hugh nodded, without speaking.
"That One understands us who cannot be unjust!" whispered Firth. "I am
glad you feel that."
"Even home would be bad enough without that," said Hugh. "And what
would school be?"
"Or the world?" added Frith. "But do not get cross, and complain again.
Leave that to those who have no comfort."
Hugh nodded again. Then he got down, and ran to tell Holt that he did
not want a shilling from him, because he thought sixpence would be
fairer.
Holt was glad to hear this at first; but he presently said that it did
not much matter, for that he had no more chance of being able to pay
sixpence than a shilling. His parents were in India, and his uncle
never offered him any money. He knew indeed that his uncle had none to
spare; for he had said in the boy's hearing, that it was hard on him to
have to pay the school-bills (unless he might pay them in the produce of
his farm), so long as it must be before he could be repaid from India.
So Holt did not dare to ask for pocket-money; and for the hundredth time
he sighed over his debt. He had almost left off hoping that Hugh, would
excuse him altogether, though everybody knew that Hugh had five
shillings in Mrs Watson's hands. This fact and Hugh's frequent
applications to Lamb for payment, had caused an impression that Hugh was
fond of money. It was not so; and yet the charge was not unfair. Hugh
was ready to give if properly asked; but he did not relish, and could
not bear with temper, the injustice of such a forced borrowing as had
stripped him of his half-crown. He wanted his five shillings for
presents for his family; and for these reasons, and not because he was
miserly, he did not offer to excuse Holt's debt; which it would have
been more generous to have done. Nobody could wish that he should
excuse Lamb's.
"When are you going to your uncle's?" asked Holt. "I suppose you _are_
going some day before Christmas."
"On Saturday, to stay till Sunday night," said Hugh.
"And Proctor goes too, I suppose?"
"Yes; of course, Phil goes too."
"Anybody else?"
"We are each to take one friend, just for Saturday, to come home at
night."
"Oh? Then, you will take me. You said you would."
"Did I? That must have been a long time ago."
"But you did say so,--that, whenever you went, you would ask leave to
take me."
"I don't remember any such thing. And I am going to take Dale this
time. I have promised him."
Holt cried with vexation. Dale was always in his way. Hugh cared for
nobody but Dale; but Dale should not go to Mr Shaw's till he had had
his turn. He had been promised first, and he would go first. He would
speak to Mrs Watson, and get leave to go and tell Mrs Shaw, and then
he was sure Mr Shaw would let him go.
Hugh was very uncomfortable. He really could not remember having made
this promise: but he could not be sure that he had not. He asked Holt
if he thought he should like to be in people's way, to spoil the holiday
by going where he was not wished for; but this sort of remonstrance did
not comfort Holt at all. Hugh offered that he should have the very next
turn, if he would give up now.
"I dare say! And when will that be? You know on Sunday it will want
only nineteen days to the holidays; and you will not be going to your
uncle's again this half-year. A pretty way of putting me off!"