The Crofton Boys Part 7

"We go long walks on Sat.u.r.day afternoons; but you do not expect to see young lambs in October, do you?"

"O, I forgot I never can remember the seasons for things."

"That shows you are a Londoner. You will learn all those things here.

If you look for hares in our walks, you may chance to see one; or you may start a pheasant; but take care you don't mention lambs, or goslings, or cowslips, or any spring things; or you will never hear the last of it."

"Thank you: but what will poor Holt do? He is from India, and he knows very little about our ways."

"They may laugh at him; but they will not despise him as they might a Londoner. Being an Indian, and being a Londoner, are very different things."

"And yet how proud the Londoners are over the country! It is very odd."

"People are proud of their own ways all the world over. You will be proud of being a Crofton boy, by-and-by."

"Perhaps I am now, a little," said Hugh, blus.h.i.+ng.

"What, already? Ah! You will do, I see. I have known old people proud of their age, and young people of their youth. I have seen poor people proud of their poverty; and everybody has seen rich people proud of their wealth. I have seen happy people proud of their prosperity, and the afflicted proud of their afflictions. Yes; people can always manage to be proud: so you have boasted of being a Londoner up to this time; and from this time you will hold your head high as a Crofton boy."

"How long? Till when?"

"Ah! Till when? What next! What do you mean to be afterwards?"

"A soldier, or a sailor, or a great traveller, or something of that kind. I mean to go quite round the world, like Captain Cook."

"Then you will come home, proud of having been round the world; and you will meet with some old neighbour who boasts of having spent all his life in the house he was born in."

"Old Mr Dixon told mother that of himself, very lately. Oh dear, how often does the postman come?"

"You want a letter from home, do you? But you left them only yesterday morning."

"I don't know how to believe that,--it seems such an immense time! But when does the postman come?"

"Any day when he has letters to bring,--at about four in the afternoon.

We see him come, from the school-room; but we do not know who the letters are for till school breaks up at five."

"O dear!" cried Hugh, thinking what the suspense must be, and the disappointment at last to twenty boys, perhaps, for one that was gratified. Firth advised him to write a letter home before he began to expect one. If he did not like to ask the usher, he himself would rule the paper for him, and he could write a bit at a time, after his lessons were done in the evening, till the sheet was full.

Hugh then told his grievance about the usher, and Firth thought that though it was not wise in Hugh to prate about Crofton on the top of the coach, it was worse to sit by and listen without warning, unless the listener meant to hold his own tongue. But he fancied the usher had since heard something which made him sorry; and the best way now was for Hugh to bear no malice, and remember nothing more of the affair than to be discreet in his future journeys.

"What is the matter there?" cried Hugh. "O dear! Something very terrible must have happened. How that boy is screaming!"

"It is only Lamb again," replied Firth. "You will soon get used to his screaming. He is a very pa.s.sionate boy--I never saw such a pa.s.sionate fellow."

"But what are they doing to him?"

"Somebody is putting him into a pa.s.sion, I suppose. There is always somebody to do that."

"What a shame!" cried Hugh.

"Yes: I see no wit in it," replied Firth. "Anybody may do it. You have only to hold your little finger up to put him in a rage."

Hugh thought Firth was rather cool about the matter. But Firth was not so cool when the throng opened for a moment, and showed what was really done to the angry boy. Only his head appeared above ground. His schoolfellows had put him into a hole they had dug, and had filled it up to his chin, stamping down the earth, so that the boy was perfectly helpless, while wild with rage.

"That is too bad!" cried Firth. "That would madden a saint."

And he jumped down from the paling and ran towards the crowd. Hugh, forgetting his height from the ground, stood up in the tree, almost as angry as Lamb himself, and staring with all his might to see what he could. He saw Firth making his way through the crowd, evidently remonstrating, if not threatening. He saw him s.n.a.t.c.h a spade from a boy who was flouris.h.i.+ng it in Lamb's face. He saw that Firth was digging, though half-a-dozen boys had thrown themselves on his back, and hung on his arms. He saw that Firth persevered till Lamb had got his right arm out of the ground, and was striking everywhere within reach. Then he saw Firth dragged down and away, while the boys made a circle round Lamb, putting a foot or hand within his reach, and then s.n.a.t.c.hing it away again, till the boy yelled with rage at the mockery.

Hugh could look on no longer. He scrambled down from the tree, scampered to the spot, burst through the throng, and seized Lamb's hand.

Lamb struck him a heavy blow, taking him for an enemy; but Hugh cried "I am your friend," seized his hand again, and tugged till he was first red and then black in the face, and till Lamb had worked his shoulders out of the hole, and seemed likely to have the use of his other arm in a trice.

Lamb's tormentors at first let Hugh alone in amazement; but they were not long in growing angry with him too. They hustled him--they pulled him all ways--they tripped him up; but Hugh's spirit was roused, and that brought his body up to the struggle again and again. He wrenched himself free, he scrambled to his feet again, as often as he was thrown down; and in a few minutes he had plenty of support. Phil was taking his part, and s.h.i.+elding him from many blows. Firth had got Lamb out of the hole, and the party against the tormentors was now so strong that they began to part off till the struggle ceased. Firth kept his grasp of the spade; for Lamb's pa.s.sion still ran so high that there was no saying what might be the consequences of leaving any dangerous weapon within his reach. He was still fuming and stamping, Hugh gazing at him the while in wonder and fear.

"There stands your defender, Lamb," said Firth, "thinking he never saw a boy in a pa.s.sion before. Come, have done with it for his sake: be a man, as he is. Here, help me to fill up this hole--both of you. Stamp down the earth, Lamb. Tread it well--tread your anger well down into it. Think of this little friend of yours here--a Crofton boy only yesterday."

Lamb did help to fill the hole, but he did not say a word--not one word to anybody till the dinner-bell rang. Then, at the pump, where the party were was.h.i.+ng their hot and dirty and bruised hands, he held out his hand to Hugh, muttering, with no very good grace--

"I don't know what made you help me, but I will never be in a pa.s.sion with you;--unless you put me out, that is."

Hugh replied that he had come to help because he never could bear to see anybody _made worse_. He always tried at home to keep the little boys and girls off "drunk old Tom," as he was called in the neighbourhood.

It was such a shame to make anybody worse! Lamb looked as if he was going to fly at Hugh now: but Firth put his arm round Hugh's neck, and drew him into the house, saying in his ear--

"Don't say any more that you have no friends here. You have me for one; and you might have had another--two in one morning--but for your plain speaking about drunk old Tom."

"Did I say any harm?"

"No--no harm," replied Firth, laughing. "You will do, my boy--when you have got through a few sc.r.a.pes. I'm your friend, at any rate."

CHAPTER SIX.

FIRST RAMBLE.

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 cla.s.s 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-gla.s.s, and bade him wafer up his letter, and by all means send it.

Mr Carnaby could not remain offended if his princ.i.p.al 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 pa.s.sed 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.