With that he made her sit down beside him and told her all, so confidently and happily she dared not venture more than one objection: “But ’tis a long way to Nottingham, Hugh.” “I can walk it. Take no heed to the way, Lois, but think of the end.” “When shall you go?” she asked, playing absently with some acorns she had gathered in her hand. “To-morrow night.” “So soon?” The acorns fell neglected to the ground. “Nay, ’tis delaying over-long. I would set out this very night, but I suppose I should take some time for preparation.” “And you must run from home by night?” she repeated sadly. “Like Dick Whittington. I wonder if I have such good fortune as he.” “How happy your father will be to see you!” Lois continued. “’Twill be naught but happiness for us all,” Hugh ran on boisterously. “Ah, must you go, Lois?” “I must finish my game with Martha,” the girl answered steadily. Hugh saw, however, that she did not go near Martha but walked away to the house, and he was vexed because she did not care enough about his departure to stay to talk with him. It was well for Hugh the day was nearly spent, if his plans were to be kept secret; for he longed to speak of them, and, now Lois would not listen, there was no one in whom he could safely confide. Moreover, Sam Oldesworth was so curious about the letter that it was a perilously great temptation to hint to him just a little, especially when the two boys were preparing for bed. Since the Millingtons had come to Everscombe Sam and Hugh had been obliged to sleep together, an arrangement never acceptable to the older boy and this night even dangerous. Fortunately he realized his weakness enough to reply shortly to all his companion’s eager questions, however gladly he would have told something of his secret, till Sam at last grumbled himself to sleep. But Hugh turned on his side and for hours lay staring into the dark of the chamber, planning for his journey and sometimes wondering where he would be in the blackness of the next night. In the morning, when he first woke and lay gazing at the familiar room, it gave him a feeling of surprisingly keen regret to tell himself that this was his last day at Everscombe. Perhaps it was the outward aspect of the day that made him feel so depressed, for a slow, drizzling rain was falling and the sky was thick with gray clouds.