MOVING HOME.
School again--Leaving the farm--Like father, like son--Tea for two--The
doctor retires--Miss Parker's oration.
Clouds and sunshine, sunshine and clouds. So runs the world away.
Equally necessary, sorrow and gladness are as the rains and sunbeams
for the fruits of the earth. Were it all sadness the world would grow
morose and torpid; were it all gladness men would be selfish and
hard-hearted.
Four days had now elapsed since Mrs Campbell died; and it was the
evening of the funeral-day, a sad, rainy evening, and Harry was waiting
while Mrs Valentine packed his things, for that night he was to go to
the Grammar-School to sleep; to be there as a boarder, at any rate till
his father returned. He scarcely spoke a word, and what he did say
seemed to choke him. His mother dead; his father away at sea; himself
sent back to the school he had left but a few days since, smarting with
the pain of his undeserved punishment and accusation; his plight was
indeed a sad one. Mrs Valentine tried to cheer him as well as she
might, but she felt the blow that left Harry motherless too bitterly
herself to be of much comfort to him.
At half-past seven William appeared with a light cart of Dr Palmer's,
to take Harry and his luggage to school. Perhaps the bluntness of the
old butler was more opportune now than ever. It prevented the
lengthening of a parting that could not be otherwise than utterly sad
and wretched to Harry. There was the good kind Mrs Valentine to leave;
and the dear old farm, where he had spent so many joyous days in happy
ignorance of the blow which now had stricken him. And there was the
churchyard to say good-bye to, which now he could see but seldom, and
when he was near her grave, his mother did not seem to him to be so far
away.
But William was not unkindly blunt. Yet the sight of him brought back
to Harry's mind the recollection of all that had occurred at school on
the last occasion he had seen William's obese person. The crib found
in his desk, the fight, the caning, and then--then, back came the
recollection that he was indeed alone.
"Good-bye, my dear, good-bye," said Mrs Valentine; "be sure you come
and see me when you can. Papa'll be home soon, maybe," though she
feared she was but holding out false hopes in this.
"There, that'll do, missis," said William, interrupting the moist
embraces of the good farmer's wife; and he flicked the fat pony across
his sleek shoulder; and, with Harry and his boxes, was soon away down
the lane, Mrs Valentine gazing after them, her long print apron at her
eyes.
"Just like his father, dear boy, as brave and composed like. But 'tis
harder a'most for all that." And who would say that her moralising was
wrong?
As a special favour, and "in consideration of his late deplorable
affliction," as Miss Parker, the matron, phrased it, Harry was to have
his tea in Doctor Palmer's study that night, a favour Harry by no means
saw in the light intended. He would far rather have had his tea with
the rest; though, for the matter of that, he didn't want any tea at
all. He was too miserable to eat. But his face was quiet and composed
when he reached Doctor Palmer's hall, and was ushered into the study.
The tea was all ready,--two cups, two saucers, two plates,--so Harry
was prepared for a _tête-à-tête_ with the Doctor. Everything looked
very nice and tempting, at least, it would have looked so on any other
occasion; but now there was that numerical horror staring him in the
face; those two cups, those two saucers, those two plates! It must be
for Doctor Palmer and himself that all the preparations were made. But
he was not left long in doubt, for, at that moment, the Doctor entered.
He greeted Harry most kindly, and told him to take a seat at the table,
which Harry did in silence; and then the Doctor poured out a cup of tea
for him, and helped him to some cold meat. Harry watching every motion
the while; and then, taking a cup for himself, drank it standing.
Harry hated all this kindness. He would almost have preferred angry
words; but he ate what he had, and enjoyed it, though he said nothing
more than "yes," or "no, thank you," or "please," to the Doctor's
various remarks.
It was becoming unbearable, and he longed for the distant etiquette
which school-life sets between boys and masters. He was in no mood for
a master to try to play the parent, especially when now the contrast
seemed so great, and lying, as he was, under false imputations.
But he was soon relieved, for Doctor Palmer said:
"I have to go out now, Campbell. Don't hurry over your tea, but when
you have quite finished you can go to bed. You need not wait up for
prayers."
"Thank you, sir," answered Harry, brighter for the first time. Relief
was come at last, and the study-door closing over the Doctor's portly
form was the welcomest sight Harry had seen for many days.
Once alone, he lingered over his tea. He knew he wouldn't be
interrupted, and the contents of the table seemed doubly good now. He
even looked at some books, and at last became so absorbed in one, that
he went on reading, regardless of time, till he heard the boarders'
prayer-bell ringing, at the sound of which he hurried off to bed. On
the stairs he met the matron.
"Oh, Master Campbell, I was looking for you. You're changed into No. 7
dormitory. I put your box by your bed, so you'll know where you're to
sleep. How are you now, dear," she added, kindly, "have you heard from
your papa? when's he coming home? You'll try and be a good boy, won't
you? You must think how it would vex your dear ma; and you won't give
Doctor Palmer cause to cane you again, I know," and Miss Parker
smoothed her apron, and took breath after her long-winded oration.
There it was at last. Harry feared it would come sooner or later, this
allusion to the crib. He burst out indignantly,--
"Mamma believed me, Miss Parker, if nobody else did. She knew I didn't
crib; but I won't bear it, I won't," he cried passionately, as he ran
up-stairs to his new destination.