The Crofton Boys Part 3

How to get rid of the hours till noon was the question. Hugh had had everything packed up, over which he had any control, for some days. He had not left himself a plaything of those which he might carry: and it frightened him that his mother did not seem to think of packing his clothes till after breakfast this very morning. When she entered his room for the purpose, he was fidgeting about, saying to himself that he should never be ready. Agnes came with her mother, to help: but before the second s.h.i.+rt was laid in the box, she was in tears and had to go away; for every one in the house was in the habit of hiding tears from Mrs Proctor, who rarely shed them herself, and was known to think that they might generally be suppressed, and should be so.

As Hugh stood beside her, handing stockings and handkerchiefs, to fill up the corners of the box, she spoke as she might not have done if they had not been alone. She said but a few words; but Hugh never forgot them.

"You know, my dear," said she, "that I do not approve of dwelling upon troubles. You know I never encourage my children to fret about what cannot be helped."

There was nothing in the world that Hugh was more certain of than this.

"And yet I tell you," she continued, "that you will not be nearly so happy at Crofton as you expect--at least, at first. It grieves me to see you so full of expectation--"

"Does it indeed, mother?"

"It does indeed. But my comfort is--"

"You think I can bear it," cried Hugh, holding up his head. "You think I can bear anything."

"I think you are a brave boy, on the whole. But that is not the comfort I was speaking of; for there is a world of troubles too heavy for the bravery of a thoughtless child, like you. My comfort is, my dear, that you know where to go for strength when your heart fails you. You will be away from your father and me; but a far wiser and kinder parent will be always with you. If I were not sure that you would continually open your heart to Him, I could not let you go from me."

"I will--I always do," said Hugh, in a low voice. "Then remember this, my boy. If you have that help, _you must not fail_. Knowing that you have that help, I expect of you that you do your own duty, and bear your own troubles, like a man. If you were to be all alone in the new world you are going to, you would be but a helpless child: but remember, when a child makes G.o.d his friend, G.o.d puts into the youngest and weakest the spirit of a man."

"You will ask Him too, mother;--you will pray Him to make me brave, and--and--"

"And what else?" she inquired, fixing her eyes upon him.

"And steady," replied Hugh, casting down his eyes; "for that is what I want most of all."

"It is," replied his mother. "I do, and always will, pray for you."

Not another word was said till they went down into the parlour. Though it was only eleven o'clock, Miss Harold was putting on her bonnet to go away: and there was a plate of bread and cheese on the table.

"Lunch!" said Hugh, turning away with disgust. "Do eat it," said Agnes, who had brought it. "You had no breakfast, you know."

"Because I did not want it; and I can't eat anything now."

Jane made a sign to Agnes to take the plate out of sight: and she put some biscuits into a paper bag, that he might eat on the road, if he should become hungry.

Neither Miss Harold nor Hugh could possibly feel any grief at parting; for they had had little satisfaction together; but she said very kindly that she should hope to hear often of him, and wished he might be happy as a Crofton boy. Hugh could hardly answer her;--so amazed was he to find that his sisters were giving up an hour of their lessons on his account,--that they might go with him to the coach!--And then Susan came in, about the cord for his box, and her eyes were red:--and, at the sight of her, Agnes began to cry again; and Jane bent down her head over the glove she was mending for him, and her needle stopped.

"Jane," said her mother, gravely, "if you are not mending that glove, give it to me. It is getting late."

Jane brushed her hand across her eyes, and st.i.tched away again. Then she threw the gloves to Hugh without looking at him, and ran to get ready to go to the coach.

The bustle of the inn-yard would not do for little Harry. He could not go. Hugh was extremely surprised to find that all the rest were going;--that even his father was smoothing his hat in the pa.s.sage for the walk,--really leaving the shop at noon on his account! The porter was at his service too,--waiting for his box! It was very odd to feel of such consequence.

Hugh ran down to bid the maids good-bye. The cook had cut a sandwich, which she thrust into his pocket, though he told her he had some biscuits. Susan cried so that little Harry stood grave and wondering.

Susan sobbed out that she knew he did not care a bit about leaving home and everybody. Hugh wished she would not say so, though he felt it was true, and wondered at it himself. Mr Proctor heard Susan's lamentations, and called to her from the pa.s.sage above not to make herself unhappy about that; for the time would soon come when Hugh would be homesick enough.

Mr Blake, the shopman, came to the shop-door as they pa.s.sed, and bowed and smiled; and the boy put himself in the way, with a broad grin: and then the party walked on quickly.

The sun seemed to Hugh to glare very much; and he thought he had never known the streets so noisy, or the people so pus.h.i.+ng. The truth was, his heart was beating so he could scarcely see: and yet he was so busy looking about him for a sight of the river, and everything he wished to bid good-bye to, that his father, who held him fast by the hand, shook him more than once, and told him he would run everybody down if he could,--to judge by his way of walking. He must learn to march better, if he was to be a soldier; and to steer, if he was to be a sailor.

There were just two minutes to spare when they reached the inn-yard.

The horses were pawing and fidgeting, and some of the pa.s.sengers had mounted: so Mr Proctor said he would seat the boy at once. He spoke to two men who were on the roof, just behind the coachman; and they agreed to let Hugh sit between them, on the a.s.surance that the driver would look to his concerns, and see that he was set down at the right place.

"Now, my boy, up with you!" said his father, as he turned from speaking to these men. Hugh was so eager, that he put up his foot to mount, without remembering to bid his mother and sisters good-bye. Mr Proctor laughed at this; and n.o.body wondered; but Agnes cried bitterly; and she could not forget it, from that time till she saw her brother again.

When they had all kissed him, and his mother's earnest look had bidden him remember what had pa.s.sed between them that morning, he was lifted up by his father, and received by the two men, between whom he found a safe seat.

Then he wished they were off. It was uncomfortable to see his sisters crying there, and not to be able to cry too, or to speak to them. When the coachman was drawing on his second glove, and the ostlers held each a hand to pull off the horse-cloths, and the last moment was come, Mr Proctor swung himself up by the step, to say one thing more. It was--

"I say, Hugh,--can you tell me,--how much is four times seven?"

Mrs Proctor pulled her husband's coat-tail, and he leaped down, the horses' feet scrambled, their heads issued from the gateway of the inn-yard, and Hugh's family were left behind. In the midst of the noise, the man on Hugh's right-hand said to the one on his left,--

"There is some joke in that last remark, I imagine."

The other man nodded; and then there was no more speaking till they were off the stones. When the clatter was over, and the coach began to roll along the smooth road, Hugh's neighbour repeated,--

"There was some joke, I fancy, in that last remark of your father's."

"Yes," said Hugh.

"Are you in the habit of saying the multiplication-table when you travel?" said the other. "If so, we shall be happy to hear it."

"Exceedingly happy," observed the first.

"I never say it when I can help it," said Hugh; "and I see no occasion now."

The men laughed, and then asked him if he was going far.

"To Crofton. I am going to be a Crofton boy," said Hugh.

"A what? Where is he going?" his companions asked one another over his head. They were no wiser when Hugh repeated what he had said; nor could the coachman enlighten them. He only knew that he was to put the boy down at Shaw's, the great miller's, near thirty miles along the road.

"Eight-and-twenty," said Hugh, in correction; "and Crofton is two miles from my uncle's."

"Eight-and-twenty. The father's joke lies there," observed the right-hand man.

"No, it does not," said Hugh. He thought he was among a set of very odd people,--none of them knowing what a Crofton boy was. A pa.s.senger who sat beside the coachman only smiled when he was appealed to; so it might be concluded that he was ignorant too; and the right and left-hand men seemed so anxious for information, that Hugh told them all he knew;-- about the orchard and the avenue, and the pond on the heath, and the playground; and Mrs Watson, and the usher, and Phil, and Joe Cape, and Tony Nelson, and several others of the boys.

One of the men asked him if he was sure he was going for the first time,--he seemed so thoroughly informed of everything about Crofton.

Hugh replied that it was a good thing to have an elder brother like Phil. Phil had told him just what to take to Crofton, and how to take care of his money, and everything.

"Ay! And how do the Crofton boys take care of their money?"

Hugh showed a curious little inner pocket in his jacket, which n.o.body would dream of that did not know. His mother had let him have such a pocket in both his jackets; and he had wanted to have all his money in this one now, to show how safely he could carry it. But his mother had chosen to pack up all his five s.h.i.+llings in his box,--that square box, with the new bra.s.s lock, on the top of all the luggage. In his pocket there was only sixpence now,--the sixpence he was to give the coachman when he was set down.

Then he went on to explain that this sixpence was not out of his own money, but given him by his father, expressly for the coachman. Then his right-hand companion congratulated him upon his spirits, and began to punch and tickle him; and when Hugh writhed himself about, because he could not bear tickling, the coachman said he would have no such doings, and bade them be quiet. Then the pa.s.sengers seemed to forget Hugh, and talked to one another of the harvest in the north, and the hopping in Kent. Hugh listened about the hopping, supposing it might be some new game, as good as leap-frog; though it seemed strange that one farmer should begin hopping on Monday, and that another should fix Thursday; and that both should be so extremely anxious about the weather. But when he found it was some sort of harvest-work, he left off listening, and gave all his attention to the country sights that were about him.

He did not grow tired of the gardens, gay with dahlias and hollyhocks, and asters: nor of the orchards, where the ladder against the tree, and the basket under, showed that apple-gathering was going on; nor of the nooks in the fields, where blackberries were ripening; nor of the chequered sunlight and shadow which lay upon the road; nor of the breezy heath where the blue ponds were ruffled; nor of the pleasant grove where the leaves were beginning to show a tinge of yellow and red, here and there among the green. Silently he enjoyed all these things, only awakening from them when there was a stop to change horses.

He was not thinking of time or distance when he saw the coachman glance round at him, and felt that the speed of the horses was slackening.