“Gone for good,” was the answer of those who knew to a certainty.
The boys set up first a groan, so loud that perhaps the departing usher heard it. Then they gave a shout of joy, in which the little boys joined with all their might—Hugh waving his cap in the apple-tree.
Chapter Seven.
What is only to be had at Home.
Hugh got on far better with his lessons as he grew more intimate with Dale. It was not so much that Dale helped him with his grammar and construing (for Dale thought every boy should make shift to do his own business) as that he liked to talk about his work, even with a younger boy; and so, as he said, clear his head. A great deal that he said was above Hugh’s comprehension; and much of his repetitions mere words: but there were other matters which fixed Hugh’s attention, and proved to him that study might be interesting out of school. When Dale had a theme to write, the two boys often walked up and down the playground for half an hour together, talking the subject over, and telling of anything they had heard or read upon it. Hugh presently learned the names and the meanings of the different parts of a theme; and he could sometimes help with an illustration or example, though he left it to his friend to lay down the Proposition, and search out the Confirmation. Dale’s nonsense-verses were perfect nonsense to Hugh: but his construing was not: and when he went over it aloud, for the purpose of fixing his lesson in his ear, as well as his mind, Hugh was sorry when they arrived at the end, and eager to know what came next,—particularly if they had to stop in the middle of a story of Ovid’s. Every week, almost every day now, made a great difference in Hugh’s school-life. He still found his lessons very hard work, and was often in great fear and pain about them,—but he continually perceived new light breaking in upon his mind: his memory served him better; the little he had learned came when he wanted it, instead of just a minute too late. He rose in the morning with less anxiety about the day: and when playing, could forget school.
There was no usher yet in Mr Carnaby’s place; and all the boys said their lessons to Mr Tooke himself: which Hugh liked very much, when he had got over the first fear. A writing-master came from a distance twice a week, when the whole school was at writing and arithmetic all the afternoon: but every other lesson was said to the master; and this was likely to go on till Christmas, as the new usher, of whom, it was said, Mr Tooke thought so highly as to choose to wait for him, could not come before that time. Of course, with so much upon his hands, Mr Tooke had not a moment to spare; and slow or idle boys were sent back to their desks at the first trip or hesitation in their lessons. Hugh was afraid, at the outset, that he should be like poor Lamb, who never got a whole lesson said during these weeks: and he was turned down sometimes; but not often enough to depress him. He learned to trust more to his ear and his memory: his mind became excited, as in playing a game: and he found he got through, he scarcely knew how. His feeling of fatigue afterwards proved to him that this was harder work than he had ever done at home; but he did not feel it so at the time. When he could learn a lesson in ten minutes, and say it in one; when he began to use Latin phrases in his private thoughts, and saw the meaning of a rule of syntax, so as to be able to find a fresh example out of his own head, he felt himself really a Crofton boy, and his heart grew light within him.
The class to which Hugh belonged was one day standing waiting to be heard, when the master was giving a subject and directions for an English theme to Dale’s class. The subject was the Pleasures of Friendship. In a moment Hugh thought of Damon and Pythias, and of David and Jonathan,—of the last of whom there was a picture in Mrs Watson’s great Bible. He thought how happy he had been since he had known Dale, and his heart was in such a glow, he was sure he could write a theme. He ran after Mr Tooke when school was over, and asked whether he might write a theme with Dale’s class. When Mr Tooke found he knew what was meant by writing a theme, he said he might try, if he neglected nothing for it, and wrote every word of it himself, without consultation with any one.
Hugh scampered away to tell Dale that they must not talk over this theme together, as they were both to do it; and then, instead of playing, he went to his desk, and wrote upon his slate till it was quite full. He had to borrow two slates before he had written all he had to say. Phil ruled his paper for him; but before he had copied one page, his neighbours wanted their slates back again,—said they must have them, and rubbed out all he had written. Much of the little time he had was lost in this way, and he grew wearied. He thought at first that his theme would be very beautiful: but he now began to doubt whether it would be worth anything at all; and he was vexed to have tired himself with doing what would only make him laughed at. The first page was well written out,—the Confirmation being properly separated from the Proposition: but he had to write all the latter part directly from his head upon the paper, as the slates were taken away; and he forgot to separate the Conclusion from the Inference.