.

Agnes was making tea. Hugh was so eager to repeat to his uncle some of
the good stories that he had just heard, that he did not observe, as his
aunt did, how red his sister's fingers were, and how she shivered still.

"My dear," said Mrs Shaw, "you have let these boys keep you away from
the fire."

"Yes, aunt; never mind! I shall be warm enough presently."

"But you should not allow it, Agnes. How are they ever to learn
manners, if they are not made to give way to young ladies while they are
young? Boys are sure to be rude enough, at any rate. Their sisters
should know better than to spoil them."

While poor Agnes' hardships were ending with a lecture, Hugh was
chattering away, not at all aware that he had treated his sister much as
Phil had treated him on his going to Crofton. If any one had told him
that he was tyrannical, he would have been as much surprised as he had
been at Phil's tyranny over him. He did not know indeed that his sister
had been in the cold and in the dark; but he might have felt that he had
used her with a roughness which is more painful to a loving heart than
cold and darkness are to the body.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

HOLT AND HIS DIGNITY.

There was no reason now why Hugh should not go to church. He and his
crutches went between his uncle and aunt in the gig one way, and between
his uncle and Agnes home again; and he could walk up the aisle quite
well. He had been pleased at the idea of attending church again, and
had never thought of the pain of being stared at for his lameness. This
pain came upon him as he entered the church; and as he went up towards
his uncle's pew, and saw the crowd of Crofton boys all looking at him,
and some of the poor people turning their heads as he passed, to observe
how he got on, he felt covered with confusion, and wished that he had
waited one more Sunday, when the Crofton boys would have been all gone,
and there would have been fewer eyes to mark his infirmity. But better
thoughts soon arose, and made him ashamed of his false shame; and before
the service was over, he felt how trifling is any misfortune while we
are friends with God, in comparison with the least wrong-doing which
sets us at a distance from him. He could not but feel after church that
he had rather, a thousand times, be as he was than be poor Lamb, who
slunk away from him, and hid himself behind the other boys,--his mind
sore and troubled, no doubt, about his debt, and his che