The Crofton Boys Part 16

"And you never told me about all these things. You let me learn them all without any warning, or any help."

"To be sure. That is the way all boys have to get on. They must make their own way."

"If ever little Harry comes to Crofton," said Hugh, more to himself than to Phil, "I will not leave him in the lurch,--I will never be ashamed of him. Pray," said he, turning quickly to Phil, "are you ashamed of me still?"

"Oh, no," protested Phil. "You can s.h.i.+ft for yourself,--you can play, and do everything like other boys, now. You--"

He stopped short, overcome with the sudden recollection that Hugh would never again be able to play like other boys,--to be like them in strength, and in s.h.i.+fting for himself.

"Ah! I see what you are thinking of," said Hugh. "I am so afraid you should be ashamed of me again, when I come into the playground. The boys will quiz me;--and if you are ashamed of me--"

"Oh, no, no!" earnestly declared Phil. "There is n.o.body in the world that will quiz you;--or, if there is, they had better take care of me, I can tell them. But n.o.body will. You don't know how sorry the boys are.

Here comes Dale. He will tell you the same thing."

Dale was quite sure that any boy would, from this time for ever, be sent to Coventry who should quiz Hugh for his lameness. There was not a boy now at Crofton who would not do anything in the world to help him.

"Why, Dale, how you have been crying!" exclaimed Hugh. "Is anything wrong in school? Can't you manage your verses yet?"

"I'll try that to-night," said Dale, cheerfully. "Yes; I'll manage them. Never mind what made my eyes red; only, if such a thing had happened to me, you would have cried,--I am sure of that."

"Yes, indeed," said Phil.

"Now, Proctor, you had better go," said Dale. "One at a time is enough to-day; and I shall not stay long."

Phil agreed, and actually shook hands with Hugh before he went.

"Phil is so kind to-day!" cried Hugh, with glee; "though he is disappointed of going to uncle Shaw's on my account. And I know he had reckoned on it. Now, I want to know one thing,--where did Mr Tooke sleep last night? For this is his bed."

Dale believed he slept on the sofa. He was sure, at least, that he had not taken off his clothes; for he had come to the door several times in the course of the night, to know how all was going on.

"Why, I never knew that!" cried Hugh. "I suppose I was asleep. Dale, what do you think is the reason that our fathers and mothers and people take care of us as they do?"

"How do you mean?"

"Why, Agnes and I cannot make it out. When we were by the sea-side, mother took us a great way along the beach, to a place we did not know at all; and she bade us pick up sh.e.l.ls, and amuse ourselves, while she went to see a poor woman that lived just out of sight. We played till we were quite tired; and then we sat down; and still she did not come.

At last, we were sure that she had forgotten all about us; and we did not think she would remember us any more: and we both cried. Oh! How we did cry! Then a woman came along, with a basket at her back, and a great net over her arm: and she asked us what was the matter; and when we told her, she said she thought it was not likely that mother would forget us. And then she bade us take hold of her gown, one on each side, and she would try to take us to mother; and the next thing was mother came in sight. When the woman told her what we had said, they both laughed; and mother told us it was impossible that she should leave us behind. I asked Agnes afterwards why it was impossible; and she did not know; and I am sure she was as glad as I was to see mother come in sight. If she really never can forget us, what makes her remember us?"

Dale shook his head. He could not tell.

"Because," continued Hugh, "we can't do anything for anybody, and we give a great deal of trouble. Mother sits up very late, sometimes till near twelve, mending our things. There is that great basket of stockings she has to mend, once a fortnight! And papa works very hard to get money; and what a quant.i.ty he pays for our schooling, and our clothes, and everything!"

"Everybody would think it very shameful if he did not," suggested Dale.

"If he let you go ragged and ignorant, it would be wicked."

"But why?" said Hugh, vehemently. "That is what I want to know. We are not worth anything. We are nothing but trouble. Only think what so many people did yesterday! My mother came a journey; and uncle and aunt Shaw came: and mother sat up all night; and Mr Tooke never went to bed,--and all about me! I declare I can't think why."

Dale felt as if he knew why; but he could not explain it. Mrs Proctor had heard much of what they were saying. She had come in before closing her letter to Mr Proctor, to ask whether Hugh wished to send any particular message home. As she listened, she was too sorry to feel amused. She perceived that she could not have done her whole duty to her children, if there could be such a question as this in their hearts--such a question discussed between them, unknown to her. She spoke now; and Hugh started, for he was not aware that she was in the room.

She asked both the boys why they thought it was that, before little birds are fledged, the parent birds bring them food, as often as once in a minute, all day long for some weeks. Perhaps no creatures can go through harder work than this; and why do they do it? For unfledged birds, which are capable of nothing whatever but clamouring for food, are as useless little creatures as can be imagined. Why does the cat take care of her little blind kitten with so much watchfulness, hiding it from all enemies till it can take care of itself. It is because love does not depend on the value of the creature loved--it is because love grows up in our hearts at G.o.d's pleasure, and not by our own choice; and it is G.o.d's pleasure that the weakest and the least useful and profitable should be the most beloved, till they become able to love and help in their turn.

"Is it possible, my dear," she said to Hugh, "that you did not know this,--you who love little Harry so much, and take such care of him at home? I am sure you never stopped to think whether Harry could do you any service, before helping him to play."

"No; but then--"

"But what?"

"He is such a sweet little fellow, it is a treat to look at him. Every morning when I woke, I longed to be up, and to get to him."

"That is, you loved him. Well: your papa and I love you all, in the same way. We get up with pleasure to our business--your father to his shop, and I to my work-basket--because it is the greatest happiness in the world to serve those we love."

Hugh said nothing; but still, though pleased, he did not look quite satisfied.

"Susan and cook are far more useful to me than any of you children,"

continued his mother, "and yet I could not work early and late for them, with the same pleasure as for you."

Hugh laughed; and then he asked whether Jane was not now as useful as Susan.

"Perhaps she is," replied his mother; "and the more she learns and does, and the more she becomes my friend,--the more I respect her: but it is impossible to love her more than I did before she could speak or walk.

There is some objection in your mind still, my dear. What is it?"

"It makes us of so much consequence,--so much more than I ever thought of,--that the minds of grown people should be busy about us."

"There is nothing to be vain of in that, my dear, any more than for young kittens, and birds just hatched. But it is very true that all young creatures are of great consequence; for they are the children of G.o.d. When, besides this, we consider what human beings are,--that they can never perish, but are to live for ever,--and that they are meant to become more wise and holy than we can imagine, we see that the feeblest infant is indeed a being of infinite consequence. This is surely a reason for G.o.d filling the hearts of parents with love, and making them willing to work and suffer for their children, even while the little ones are most unwise and unprofitable. When you and Agnes fancied I should forget you and desert you, you must have forgotten that you had another Parent who rules the hearts of all the fathers and mothers on earth."

Hugh was left alone to think this over, when he had given his messages home, and got Dale's promise to come again as soon as he could obtain leave to do so. Both the boys were warned that this would not be till to-morrow, as Hugh had seen quite company enough for one day. Indeed, he slept so much, that night seemed to be soon come.

CHAPTER TEN.

LITTLE VICTORIES.

Though Mr Tooke was so busy from having no usher, he found time to come and see Hugh pretty often. He had a sofa moved into that room: and he carried Hugh, without hurting him at all, and laid him down there comfortably, beside the fire. He took his tea there, with Mrs Proctor; and he brought up his newspaper, and read from it anything which he thought would amuse the boy. He smiled at Hugh's scruple about occupying his room, and a.s.sured him that he was quite as well off in Mr Carnaby's room, except that it was not so quiet as this, and therefore more fit for a person in health than for an invalid. Mr Tooke not only brought up plenty of books from the school library, but lent Hugh some valuable volumes of prints from his own shelves.

Hugh could not look at these for long together. His head soon began to ache, and his eyes to be dazzled; for he was a good deal weakened. His mother observed also that he became too eager about views in foreign countries, and that he even grew impatient in his temper when talking about them.

"My dear boy," said she one evening, after tea, when she saw him in this state, and that it rather perplexed Mr Tooke, "if you remember your resolution, I think you will put away that book."

"O, mother!" exclaimed he, "you want to take away the greatest pleasure I have!"

"If it is a pleasure, go on. I was afraid it was becoming a pain."

Mr Tooke did not ask what this meant; but he evidently wished to know.

He soon knew, for Hugh found himself growing more fidgety and more cross, the further he looked in the volume of Indian Views, till he threw himself back upon the sofa, and stuffed his handkerchief into his mouth, and stared at the fire, struggling, as his mother saw, to help crying. "I will take away the book,--shall I, my dear?"

"Yes, mother. O dear! I shall never keep my vow, I know."

Mrs Proctor told Mr Tooke that Hugh had made a resolution which she earnestly hoped he might be able to keep;--to bear cheerfully every disappointment and trouble caused by this accident, from the greatest to the least,--from being obliged to give up being a traveller by-and-by, to the shoemaker's wondering that he wanted only one shoe. Now, if looking at pictures of foreign countries made him less cheerful, it seemed to belong to his resolution to give up that pleasure for the present. Hugh acknowledged that it did; and Mr Tooke, who was pleased at what he heard, carried away the Indian Views, and brought instead a very fine work on Trades, full of plates representing people engaged in every kind of trade and manufacture. Hugh was too tired to turn over any more pages to-night: but his master said the book might stay in the room now, and when Hugh was removed, it might go with him; and, as he was able to sit up more, he might like to copy some of the plates.