Tooke could not remember anything about a sponge; and when he was told, he thought nothing of it. He went on—
“Do you think you shall never tell anybody, as long as you live, who pulled you first?”
“Never,” said Hugh, “unless I tell it in my sleep; and that is not likely, for I never think about it in the daytime,—or scarcely ever; and when I can run about again, I dare say I shall never think of it at all.”
“But will you ever run about?”
“O yes! Finely, you will see. I shall begin first with a little stick-leg, very light. Mother is going to send some for me to try. When I am a man, I shall have one that will look like a real foot; but that will not be so light as the one you will see me with after the holidays. But you do not half know what I can do now, with my crutches. Here, I will show you.”
As he flourished about, and played antics, Agnes heard the pit-pat of his crutches, and she thought she might as well have been there, if they had told all their secrets, and had got to play. But the noise did not last long, for Hugh’s performances did not make Tooke very merry; and the boys sat down quietly again.
“Now, I’ll tell you what,” said Tooke. “I am a bigger and stronger boy than you, without considering this accident I’ll take care of you all the time you are at Crofton: and always afterwards, if I can. Mind you that. If anybody teases you, you call me,—that’s all. Say you will.”
“Why,” said Hugh, “I had rather take care of myself. I had rather make no difference between you and everybody else.”
“There now! You don’t forgive me, after all.”
“I do,—upon my word, I do. But why should I make any difference between you and the rest, when you did not mean me any harm,—any more than they? Besides, it might make people suspect.”