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قراءة كتاب The Crofton Boys
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
down this morning as Hugh was catching Harry in the passage. He snatched up his boys, packed one under each arm, and ran with them into the yard, where he rolled Harry up in a new mat, which the cook was going to lay at the house-door.
“There!” said he. “Keep him fast, Hugh, till the passage-door is shut. What shall we do with the rogue when you are at Crofton, I wonder?”
“Why, papa! He will be big enough to take care of himself by that time.”
“Bless me! I forgot again,” exclaimed Mr Proctor, as he made haste away into the shop.
Before long, Harry was safe under the attraction of his basin of bread and milk; and Hugh fell into a reverie at the breakfast-table, keeping his spoon suspended in his hand as he looked up at the windows, without seeing anything. Jane asked him twice to hand the butter before he heard.
“He is thinking how much four times seven is,” observed Mr Proctor: and Hugh started at the words.
“I tell you what, Hugh,” continued his father; “if the Crofton people do not teach you how much four times seven is when you come within four weeks of next Christmas-day, I shall give you up, and them too, for dunces all.”
All the eyes round the table were fixed on Mr Proctor in an instant.
“There now!” said he, “I have let the cat out of the bag. Look at Agnes!” and he pinched her crimson cheek.
Everybody then looked at Agnes, except Harry, who was busy looking for the cat which papa said had come out of mamma’s work-bag. Agnes could not bear the gaze, and burst into tears.
“Agnes has taken more pains to keep the secret than her papa,” said Mrs Proctor. “The secret is, that Hugh is going to Crofton next month.”
“Am I ten, then?” asked Hugh, in his hurry and surprise.
“Scarcely; since you were only eight and a quarter yesterday afternoon,” replied his father.
“I will tell you all about it by-and-by, my dear,” said his mother. Her glance towards Agnes made all the rest understand that they had better speak of something else now. So Mr Proctor beckoned Harry to come and see whether the cat had not got into the bag again, as she was not to be seen anywhere else. It is true, the bag was not much bigger than a cat’s head; but that did not matter to Harry, who never cared for that sort of consideration, and had been busy for half an hour, the day before, in trying to put the key of the house-door into the key-hole of the tea-caddy.
By the time Agnes had recovered herself, and the table was cleared, Miss Harold had arrived. Hugh brought his books with the rest, but, instead of opening them, rested his elbow on the uppermost, and stared full at Miss Harold.
“Well, Hugh!” said she, smiling.
“I have not learned quite down to ‘Constantinople,’” said he. “Papa told me I need not, and not to mind you.”
“Why, Hugh! Hush!” cried Jane.
“He did,—he said exactly that. But he meant, Miss Harold, that I am to be a Crofton boy,—directly, next month.”
“Then have we done with one another, Hugh?” asked Miss Harold, gently. “Will you not learn any more from me?”
“That is for your choice, Miss Harold,” observed Mrs Proctor. “Hugh has not deserved the pains you have taken with him: and if you decline more trouble with him now he is going into other hands, no one can wonder.”
Miss Harold feared that he was but poorly prepared for school, and was quite ready to help him, if he would give his mind to the effort. She thought that play, or reading books that he liked, was less waste of time than his common way of doing his lessons; but if he was disposed really to work, with the expectation of Crofton before him, she was ready to do her best to prepare him for the real hard work he would have to do there. His mother proposed that he should have time to consider whether he would have a month’s holiday or a month’s work, before leaving home. She had to go out this morning. He might go with her, if he liked; and as they returned, they would sit down in the Temple Garden, and she would tell him all about the plan.
Hugh liked this beginning of his new prospects. He ran to be made neat for his walk with his mother. He knew he must have the wet curl on his forehead twice over to day, but he comforted himself with hoping that there would be no time at Crofton for him to be kept standing, to have his hair done so particularly, and to be scolded all the while, and then kissed, like a baby, at the end.
Chapter Three.
Michaelmas-Day come.
Hugh was about to ask his mother, again and again during their walk, why Mr Tooke let him go to Crofton before he was ten; but Mrs Proctor was grave and silent; and though she spoke kindly to him now and then, she did not seem disposed to talk. At last they were in the Temple Garden; and they sat down where there was no one to overhear them; and then Hugh looked up at his mother. She saw, and told him, what it was that he wanted to ask.
“It is on account of the little boys themselves,” said she, “that Mr Tooke does not wish to have them very young, now that there is no kind lady in the house who could be like a mother to them.”
“But there is Mrs Watson. Phil has told me a hundred things about Mrs Watson.”
“Mrs Watson is the housekeeper. She is careful, I know, about the boys’ health and comfort; but she has no time to attend to the younger ones, as Mrs Tooke did,—hearing their little troubles, and being a friend to them like their mothers at home.”
“There is Phil—”
“Yes. You will have Phil to look to. But neither Phil, nor any one else, can save you from some troubles you are likely to have from being the youngest.”
“Such as Mr Tooke told me his boy had;—being put on the top of a high wall, and plagued when he was tired: and all that. I don’t think I should much mind those things.”
“So we hope, and so we believe. Your fault is not cowardice—”
Mrs Proctor so seldom praised anybody that her words of esteem went a great way. Hugh first looked up at her, and then down on the grass,—his cheeks glowed so. She went on—
“You have faults,—faults which give your father and me great pain; and though you are not cowardly about being hurt in your body, you sadly want courage of a better kind,—courage to mend the weakness of your mind. You are so young that we are sorry for you, and mean to send you where the example of other boys may give you the resolution you want so much.”
“All the boys learn their lessons at Crofton,” observed Hugh.
“Yes; but not by magic. They have to give their minds to their work. You will find it painful and difficult to learn this, after your idle habits at home. I give you warning that you will find it much more difficult than you suppose; and I should not wonder if you wish yourself at home with Miss Harold many times before Christmas.”
Mrs Proctor was not unkind in saying this. She saw that Hugh was so delighted about going that nothing would depress his spirits, and that the chief fear was his being disappointed and unhappy when she should be far away. It might then be some consolation to him to remember that she was aware of what he would have to go through. He now smiled, and said he did not think he should ever wish to say his lessons to Miss Harold as long as he lived. Then it quickly passed through his mind that, instead of the leads and the little yard, there would be the playground; and instead of the church bells, the rooks; and instead of Susan, with her washing and combing, and scolding and kissing, there would be plenty of boys to play with. As he thought of these things, he started up, and toppled head over heels on the grass, and then was up by his mother’s side again, saying that he did not care about anything that was to happen at Crofton;—he was not afraid,—not even of the usher, though