“I dare say! And when will that be? You know on Sunday it will want only nineteen days to the holidays; and you will not be going to your uncle’s again this half-year. A pretty way of putting me off!”
Then, as if a sudden thought had struck him, he cried,—
“But Proctor has to take somebody.”
“Yes; Phil takes Tooke. They settled that a week ago.”
“Oh! Can’t you ask him to take me?”
“No; I shall not meddle with Phil. Besides, I am glad he has chosen Tooke. Tooke behaved well to me about the sponge that day. Tooke has some spirit.”
This put Holt in mind of the worst of his adventures since he came to Crofton, and of all the miseries of being shunned as a tell-tale. He cried so bitterly as to touch Hugh’s heart. As if thinking aloud, Hugh told him that he seemed very forlorn, and that he wished he would find a friend to be intimate with. This would make him so much happier as he had no idea of; as he himself had found since he had had Dale for a friend.
This naturally brought out a torrent of reproaches, which was followed by a hot argument; Holt insisting that Hugh ought to have been his intimate friend; and Hugh asking how he could make a friend of a boy who wanted spirit. They broke away from one another at last, Hugh declaring Holt to be unreasonable and selfish, and Holt thinking Hugh cruel and insulting.
Of course Mrs Watson would not hear of Holt’s going to Mr Shaw, to ask for an invitation for Saturday. He was told he must wait till another time. It was no great consolation to Holt that on Sunday it would want only nineteen days to the holidays: for he was to remain at Crofton. He hoped to like the holidays better than school-days, and to be petted by Mrs Watson, and to sit by the fire, instead of being forced into the playground in all weathers; but still he could not look forward to Christmas with the glee which other boys felt.