And poor Hugh hid his face in his pillow.
“Never mind!” said Phil, stooping over him very kindly. “Here is a long time before you; and you will get to like something else just as well. Papa wanted to be a soldier, remember, and could not; and he is as happy as ever he can be, now that he is a shop-keeper in London. Did you ever see anybody merrier than my father is? I never did. Come! Cheer up, Hugh! You will be very happy somehow.”
Phil kissed him: and when Hugh looked up in surprise, Phil’s eyes were full of tears.
“Now I have a good mind to ask you,” said Hugh, “something that has been in my mind ever since.”
“Ever since when?”
“Ever since I came to Crofton. What could be the reason that you were not more kind to me then?”
“I! Not kind?” said Phil, in some confusion. “Was not I kind?”
“No. At least I thought not. I was so uncomfortable,—I did not know anybody, or what to do; and I expected you would show me, and help me. I always thought I could not have felt lonely with you here; and then when I came, you got out of my way, as if you were ashamed of me, and you did not help me at all; and you laughed at me.”
“No; I don’t think I did that.”
“Yes, you did, indeed.”