Chapter Twelve.
Holt and his Dignity.
There was no reason now why Hugh should not go to church. He and his crutches went between his uncle and aunt in the gig one way, and between his uncle and Agnes home again; and he could walk up the aisle quite well. He had been pleased at the idea of attending church again, and had never thought of the pain of being stared at for his lameness. This pain came upon him as he entered the church; and as he went up towards his uncle’s pew, and saw the crowd of Crofton boys all looking at him, and some of the poor people turning their heads as he passed, to observe how he got on, he felt covered with confusion, and wished that he had waited one more Sunday, when the Crofton boys would have been all gone, and there would have been fewer eyes to mark his infirmity. But better thoughts soon arose, and made him ashamed of his false shame; and before the service was over, he felt how trifling is any misfortune while we are friends with God, in comparison with the least wrong-doing which sets us at a distance from him. He could not but feel after church that he had rather, a thousand times, be as he was than be poor Lamb, who slunk away from him, and hid himself behind the other boys,—his mind sore and troubled, no doubt, about his debt, and his cheating transaction, so long ago. Hugh asked some of the boys to bring up Lamb, to shake hands before parting for the holidays; but he would not come, and wriggled himself out of sight. Then Hugh recollected that he could forgive Lamb as well without Lamb’s knowing it; and he let him alone.
Then there was Holt. He and Holt had parted on uneasy terms; and Holt now looked shy and uncomfortable. Hugh beckoned to him, and asked him whether he was really to remain at Crofton all the holidays.
“Yes,” said Holt. “I am the only one not going home, unless you are to stay hereabouts. Even Tooke is to be at his uncle’s in London. When do you go home?”
“Not quite yet;—not at the beginning of the holidays,” said Hugh, hesitating, and looking up at his uncle. For, in truth, he did not know exactly what was planned for him, and had been afraid to ask.
His uncle said, very kindly, that he was not going to part with Hugh till school opened again. He would recover his full strength better in the country; and his aunt had promised his parents that he should be a stout boy again by the time he was wanted at Crofton.
This was what Hugh had dreaded to hear; and when he thought that he should not see his parents, nor little Harry, for so many months, his heart sank. But he was still in the church; and perhaps the place helped him to remember his mother’s expectation that he should not fail, and his own resolution to bear cheerfully whatever troubles his misfortune brought upon him, from the greatest to the least. So when he heard his uncle saying to Holt that he should ask Mr Tooke to let him come and spend two or three weeks at his house, he said so heartily that he hoped Holt would come, that Holt felt that whatever discontent had been between them was forgiven and forgotten.
Phil went home, of course; and when Holt arrived at Mr Shaw’s, Agnes also returned to London, that she might see something of Phil. Then the two boys were glad to be together, though Hugh would rather have had his dear friend Dale for a companion; and Holt knew that this was the case. Yet Hugh saw, and was glad to see, that Holt was improved. He had plucked up some spirit, and was more like other lads, though still, by his own account, too much like a timid, helpless foreigner among the rough Crofton boys.
All the boys had some lessons to prepare in the holidays. Every one who had ever written a theme had a theme to write now. Every boy who could construe had a good piece of Latin to prepare; and all had either Latin or English verses to learn by heart. Mrs Shaw made a point of her young visitors sitting down every morning after breakfast to their business; and Hugh was anxious to spare no pains, this time, about his theme, that, if he was to be praised, he might deserve it. He saw that Holt could not fix his attention well, either upon work or play; and one morning, when Hugh was pondering how, without knowing anything of history, he should find a modern example to match well with his ancient one (which he had picked up by chance), Holt burst upon his meditation with—
“I have a good mind to tell you what has been upon my mind this ever so long.”
“Wait a minute,” said Hugh. “I must find my example first.”
No example could he find, to his satisfaction, this day. He gave it up till to-morrow, and then asked Holt what was on his mind. But Holt now drew back, and did not think he could tell. This made Hugh press; and Hugh’s pressing looked like sympathy, and gave Holt courage: so that the thing came out at last. Holt was very miserable, for he was deep in debt, and the boys never let him alone about it; and he did not see how he should ever pay, as nobody was likely to give him any money.
“Remember, it is only sixpence that you owe me—not a shilling,” said Hugh.
Holt sighed. Perhaps he had hoped that Hugh would excuse him altogether. He explained that this sixpence was not all, nor the chief part. He told that, when the whole school was on the heath, one Saturday, they had seen a balloon rising at a distance, and some boys began betting about what direction it would move in when it ceased to rise perpendicularly. The betting spread till the boys told him he must bet, or he would be the only one left out, and would look like a shabby fellow.
“And you did?” exclaimed Hugh. “How silly!”
“You would have done it, if you had been there.”
“No: I should not.”
“Yes, you would. Or, if you had not, it would have been because of— I know what.”
“Because of what, pray?”
“Because of something the boys say about you. They say you are very fond of money.”
“I! Fond of money! I declare I never heard of such a thing.”
“Well, you know you made a great fuss about that half-crown.”
“As if it was about the money!” cried Hugh. “I should not have cared a bit if my uncle had asked me for it back again the next day. It was the being cheated. That was the thing. What a shame—”
“By-the-by, did your uncle ever ask what you did with that half-crown?”
“No; but he will next week, at the January fair. He will be sure to ask then. What a shame of the boys to say so, when I forgave—”
He remembered, just in time, that he had better not boast, or speak aloud, of having forgiven Lamb his debt in secret. He resolved that he would not say another word, but let the boys see that he did not care for money for its own sake. They were all wrong, but he would be above noticing it; and, besides, he really had been very anxious about his half-crown, and they had only mistaken the reason.
“How much did you bet on the balloon?” he inquired of Holt.
“A shilling; and I lost.”
“Then you owe eighteen-pence.”
“But that is not all. I borrowed a shilling of Meredith to pay school-fines—”
“What for?”
“Chiefly for leaving my books about. Meredith says I promised to pay him before the holidays; but I am sure I never did. He twitted me about it, so that I declare I would have fought him, if I could have paid him first.”
“That’s right,” exclaimed Hugh. “Why, Holt, what a different fellow you are! You never used to talk of fighting.”
“But this fellow Meredith plagued me so! If it had not been for that shilling, I would have knocked him down. Well, here is half-a-crown altogether; and how am I ever to get half-a-crown?”
“Cannot you ask your uncle?”
“No; you know I can’t. You know he complains about having to pay the bills for me before my father can send the money from India.”
“I suppose it would take too long to ask your father. Yes; of course it would. There would be another holidays before you could have an answer; and almost another still. I wonder what uncle Shaw would say. He is very kind always, but it might set him asking—”
“And what should I do, staying here, if he should be angry and refuse? What should I do every day at dinner?”
“I know what I would do?” said Hugh, decidedly. “I would tell Mr Tooke all about it, and ask him for half-a-crown.”
“Mr Tooke? Oh! I dare not.”
“I dare,—in holiday-time. He is your master,—next to being your father, while your father is so far away. You had better ask Mr Tooke, to be sure.”
“What go to Crofton, and speak to him? I really want not to be a coward,—but I never could go and tell him.”
“Write him a letter, then. Yes: that is the way. Write a letter, and I will get one of my uncle’s men to carry it, and wait for an answer: and then you will not be long in suspense, at any rate.”
“I wish I dare!”
Holt was not long in passing from wishing to daring. He wrote a letter, which Hugh thought would do, though he rather wished Holt had not mentioned him as instigating the act. This was the letter:
“The Mill, January 6th.
“Dear Sir,
“I am very unhappy; and Proctor thinks I had better tell you what is upon my mind. I owe some money, and I do not see how I can ever pay it, unless you will help me. You know I have owed Proctor sixpence for ginger-beer, this long time; and as Lamb has never paid him his share, Proctor cannot excuse me this debt. Then I owe a boy a shilling, lent me for school-fines; and he never lets me alone about it. Then I was led into betting a shilling on a balloon, and I lost; and so I owe half-a-crown. If you would lend me that sum, sir, I shall be obliged to you for ever, and I shall never forget it.
“Yours respectfully,
“Thomas Holt.”
Mr Shaw’s man George carried the letter; but he brought back neither letter nor money: only a message that Mr Tooke would call; which put Holt into a great fright, and made Hugh rather uneasy.
There was no occasion for this, however. Mr Tooke came alone into the room where the boys were sitting; and neither Mr nor Mrs Shaw appeared during the whole time of his visit: a thing which was rather odd, but which the boys were very glad of. When Mr Tooke had told them a little of some new boys expected after the holidays, he said:
“Well, now, Holt, let us see what can be done about your affairs.”
Holt looked uneasy; for it seemed as if Mr Tooke was not going to lend him the money,—or to give it, which was what he had hoped, while using the word “lend.”
“I am glad you asked me,” continued Mr Tooke; “for people, whether they be men or boys, can usually retrieve their affairs when they have resolution to face their difficulties. There is no occasion to say anything about how you got into debt. We must consider how you are to get out of it.”
“That is very kind indeed!” exclaimed Holt.
“As to my lending you half-a-crown,” continued Mr Tooke, “that would not be helping you out of debt; for if you had had any prospect of being able to pay half-a-crown, you would not have needed to apply to me at all.”
Holt sighed. Mr Tooke went on.
“I cannot give you the money. I have less to give away than I should like to have, for the sake of the poor people round us. I cannot pay for a bet and school-fines while the children of our neighbours want clothes and fire.”
“No, sir, certainly,” said both the boys.
“What do people do, all the world over, when they want money?” asked Mr Tooke. Holt looked puzzled. Hugh smiled. Holt was hesitating whether to guess that they put into the lottery, or dig for treasure, or borrow from their friends, or what. Having always till lately lived in India, where Europeans are rather lazy, and life altogether is very languid, he did not see, as Hugh did, what Mr Tooke could mean.
“When men come begging to our doors,” said Mr Tooke, “what is the first question we ask them?”
Holt still looked puzzled, and Hugh laughed, saying,—
“Why, Holt, you must know very well. We ask them whether they cannot get work.”
“Work!” cried Holt.
“Yes,” said Mr Tooke. “The fathers and uncles of both of you work for what money they have; and so do I; and so does every man among our neighbours who is satisfied with his condition. As far as I see, you must get the money you want in the same way.”
“Work!” exclaimed Holt again.
“How is he to get work?” asked Hugh.
“That is where I hope to assist him,” replied Mr Tooke. “Are you willing to earn your half-crown, Holt?”
“I don’t know how, sir.”
“Widow Murray thinks she should have a better chance for a new lodger if her little parlour was fresh papered; but she is too rheumatic to do it herself, and cannot afford to engage a workman. If you like to try, under her directions, I will pay you as your work deserves.”
“But, sir, I never papered a room in my life.”
“No more had the best paper-hanger in London when he first tried. But if you do not like that work, what do you think of doing some writing for me? Our tables of rules are dirty. If you will make good copies of our rules for all the rooms in which they hang, in the course of the holidays, I will pay you half-a-crown. But the copies must be quite correct, and the writing good. I can offer you one other choice. Our school library wants looking to. If you will put fresh paper covers to all the books that want covering, write the titles on the backs, compare the whole with the catalogue, and arrange them properly on the shelves, I will pay you half-a-crown.”
Holt’s pleasure in the prospect of being out of debt was swallowed up in the anxiety of undertaking anything so new to him as work out of school. Hugh hurried him on to a decision.
“Do choose the papering,” urged Hugh. “I can help you in that, I do believe. I can walk that little way, to widow Murray’s; and I can paste the paper. Widow Murray will show you how to do it; and it is very easy, if you once learn to join the pattern. I found that, when I helped to paper the nursery closet at home.”
“It is an easy pattern to join,” said Mr Tooke.
“There now! And that is the chief thing. If you do the library books, I cannot help you, you know. And remember, you will have two miles to walk each way; four miles a-day in addition to the work.”
“He can sleep at Crofton, if he likes,” said Mr Tooke.
“That would be a queer way of staying at uncle Shaw’s,” observed Hugh.
“Then there is copying the rules,” said Holt. “I might do that here; and you might help me, if you liked.”
“Dull work!” exclaimed Hugh. “Think of copying the same rules three or four times over! And then, if you make mistakes, if you do not write clearly, where is your half-crown? I don’t mean that I would not help you, but it would be the dullest work of all.”
Mr Tooke sat patiently waiting till Holt had made up his mind. He perceived something that never entered Hugh’s mind: that Holt’s pride was hurt at the notion of doing workman’s work. He wrote on a slip of paper these few words, and pushed them across the table to Holt, with a smile:—
“No debtor’s hands are clean, however white they be: Who digs and pays his way—the true gentleman is he.”
Holt coloured as he read, and immediately said that he chose the papering job. Mr Tooke rose, tossed the slip of paper into the fire, buttoned up his coat, and said that he should let widow Murray know that a workman would wait upon her the next morning, and that she must have her paste and brushes and scissors ready.
“And a pair of steps,” said Hugh, with a sigh.
“Steps, of course,” replied Mr Tooke. “You will think it a pretty paper, I am sure.”
“But, sir, she must quite understand that she is not at all obliged to us,—that is, to me,” said Holt.
“Certainly. You will tell her so yourself, of course.”
Here again Holt’s pride was hurt; but the thought of being out of Meredith’s power sustained him.
When Mr Tooke was gone, Hugh said to his companion,—
“I do not want you to tell me what Mr Tooke wrote on that paper that he burned. I only want to know whether he asked you to choose so as to indulge me.”
“You! O no! There was not a word about you.”
“O! Very well!” replied Hugh, not sure whether he was pleased or not.
The next morning was so fine that there was no difficulty about Hugh’s walking the short distance to the widow Murray’s; and there, for three mornings, did the boys work diligently, till the room was papered, and two cupboards into the bargain. Holt liked it very well, except for two things:—that Hugh was sure he could have done some difficult corners better than Holt had done them, if he could but have stood upon the steps; and that widow Murray did so persist in thanking him, that he had to tell her several times over that she was not obliged to him at all, because he was to be paid for the job.
Mr Tooke came to see the work when it was done, and returned to Mr Shaw’s with the boys, in order to pay Holt his half-crown immediately, and yet so that the widow should not see. Hugh’s eye followed Mr Tooke’s hand as it went a second time into his pocket; and he was conscious of some sort of hope that he might be paid something too. When no more silver came forth, he felt aware that he ought not to have dreamed of any reward for the help he had freely offered to his companion: and he asked himself whether his schoolfellows were altogether wrong in thinking him too fond of money; and whether he was altogether right in having said that it was justice that he cared for, and not money, when he had pressed his debtor hard. However this might be, he was very glad to receive his sixpence from Holt. As he put it in his inner pocket, he observed that this would be all the money he should have in the world when he should have spent his five shillings in fairings for home.
Holt made no answer. He had nothing to spend in the fair; still less, anything left over. But he remembered that he was out of debt,—that Meredith, would twit him no more,—and he began to whistle, so light-hearted, that no amount of money could have made him happier. He only left off whistling to thank Hugh earnestly for having persuaded him to open his heart to Mr Tooke.