“It is not that,” said Hugh. “I must show up my theme.”
“You can’t, you know, if you have it not to show,” said two or three, who thought this settled the matter.
“But it is there: it is at my uncle’s, if any one would go for it,” said Hugh, beginning to be agitated.
“Go for it!” exclaimed Phil. “What, in the dark,—this freezing afternoon?”
“It is not near dark; it will not be dark this hour. Anybody might run there and back before supper.”
He looked at Dale; but Dale looked another way. For a moment he thought of Tooke’s permission to appeal to him when he wanted a friend: but Tooke was not within hearing; and he dismissed the thought of pointing out Tooke to anybody’s notice. He turned away as Phil repeated that it was quite certain that there would be no bad consequences from his being unprovided with a theme, which was not one of his regular lessons.
Phil was not quite easy, however: nor were the others who heard; and in a minute they looked round for Hugh. He was leaning his face upon his arms, against the orchard-wall; and when, with gentle force, they pulled him away, they saw that his face was bathed in tears. He sobbed out,—
“I took such pains with that theme,—all the holidays! And I can’t go for it myself.”
There were loud exclamations from many against Phil, against one another, and against themselves; and now everybody was eager to go. Phil stopped all who had started off, saying that it was his business; and the next moment, Phil was at Mr Tooke’s study-door, asking leave of absence till supper.
“Little Holt has been beforehand with you,” said Mr Tooke. “I refused him, however, as he is not so fit as you to be out after dark. Off with you!”