"Was it very, very bad? Worse than you had ever fancied?" "Oh! Yes. I could have screamed myself to death. I did not, though. Did you hear me, did anybody hear me call out?" "I heard you--just outside the door there--before the doctors came." "Ah! But not after, not while uncle was here. He cried so! I could not call out while was he crying so. Where were you when they were doing it?" "Just outside the door there. I heard you once--only once; and that was not much." "But how came you to be there? It was past bedtime. Had you leave to be up so late?" "I did not ask it; and nobody meddled with me." "Was anybody there with you?" "Yes, Firth. Dale would not. He was afraid and he kept away." "Oh! Is not he very sorry?" "Of course. Nobody can help being sorry." "Do they all seem sorry? What did they do? What do they say?" "Oh! They are very sorry; you must know that." "Anybody more than the rest?" "Why some few of them cried; but I don't know that that shows them to be more sorry. It is some people's way to cry--and others not." Hugh wished much to learn something about Tooke; but, afraid of showing what was in his thoughts, he went off to quite another subject. "Do you know, Phil," said he, "you would hardly believe it, but I have never been half so miserable as I was the first day or two I came here? I don't care now, half so much, for all the pain, and for being lame, and--Oh! But I can never be a soldier or a sailor--I can never go round the world! I forgot that." 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." "Well, you know, little boys always have to shift for themselves when they go to a great school--" "But why, if they have brothers there? That is the very thing I want to know. I think it is very cruel."