Hugh had never been more astonished in his life. Mr Tooke praised his theme very much, and said it had surprised him. He did not mind the blots and mistakes, which would, he said, have been great faults in a copy-book, but were of less consequence than other things in a theme. Time and pains would correct slovenliness of that kind; and the thoughts and language were good. Hugh was almost out of his wits with delight; so nearly so that he spoiled his own pleasure completely. He could not keep his happiness to himself, or his vanity: for Hugh had a good deal of vanity,--more than he was aware of before this day. He told several boys what Mr Tooke had said: but he soon found that would not do. Some were indifferent, but most laughed at him. Then he ran to Mrs Watson's parlour, and knocked. Nobody answered; for the room was empty: so Hugh sought her in various places, and at last found her in the kitchen, boiling some preserves. "What do you come here for? This is no place for you," said she, when the maids tried in vain to put Hugh out. "I only want to tell you one thing," cried Hugh; and he repeated exactly what Mr Tooke had said of his theme. Mrs Watson laughed, and the maids laughed, and Hugh left them, angry with them, but more angry with himself. They did not care for him,--nobody cared for him, he said to himself; he longed for his mother's look or approbation when he had done well, and Agnes' pleasure, and even Susan's fondness and praise. He sought Dale. Dale was in the midst of a game, and had not a word or look to spare till it was over. The boys would have admitted Hugh; for he could now play as well as anybody; but he was in no mood for play now. He climbed his tree, and sat there, stinging his mind with the thought of his having carried his boastings into the kitchen, and with his recollection of Mrs Watson's laugh. It often happened that Firth and Hugh met at this tree; and it happened now. There was room for both; and Firth mounted, and read for some time. At last he seemed to be struck by Hugh's restlessness and heavy sighs; and he asked whether he had not got something to amuse himself with. "No. I don't want to amuse myself," said Hugh, stretching so as almost to throw himself out of the tree. "Why, what's the matter? Did you not come off well with your theme? I heard somebody say you were quite enough set up about it." "Where is the use of doing a thing well, if nobody cares about it?" said Hugh. "I don't believe anybody at Crofton cares a bit about me--cares whether I get on well or ill--except Dale. If I take pains and succeed, they only laugh at me."