her right in having said that it was justice that he cared for,
and not money, when he had pressed his debtor hard. However this might
be, he was very glad to receive his sixpence from Holt. As he put it in
his inner pocket, he observed that this would be all the money he
should have in the world when he should have spent his five shillings in
fairings for home.

Holt made no answer. He had nothing to spend in the fair; still less,
anything left over. But he remembered that he was out of debt,--that
Meredith would twit him no more,--and he began to whistle, so
light-hearted, that no amount of money could have made him happier. He
only left off whistling to thank Hugh earnestly for having persuaded him
to open his heart to Mr. Tooke.

CHAPTER XIII.

TRIPPING.

When the day came for returning to Crofton, Hugh would have left his
crutches behind at his uncle's, so much did he prefer walking with the
little light stick-leg he had been practising with for a fortnight. But
his aunt shook her head at this, and ordered the crutches into the gig.
He still walked slowly and cautiously, and soon grew tired: and she
thought he might find it a relief at times to hop about on his crutches.
They were hidden under the bed, however, immediately on his arrival; so
anxious was Hugh to make the least of his lameness, and look as like
other boys as possible, both for Tooke's sake and his own. When the boys
had been all assembled for one day, and everybody had seen how little
Proctor could walk, the subject seemed to be dropped, and nothing was
talked of but the new usher. So Hugh said to himself; and he really
thought that he had fully taken his place again as a Crofton boy, and
that he should be let off all notice of his infirmity henceforth, and
all trials from it, except such as no one but himself need know of. He
was even not quite sure whether he should not be a gainer by it on the
whole. He remembered Tooke's assurances of protection and friendship; he
found Phil very kind and watchful; and Mrs. Watson told him privately
that he was to be free of the orchard. She showed him the little door
through which he might enter at any time, alone, or with one companion.
Here he might read, or talk, and get out of sight of play that he could
not share. The privilege was to be continued as long as no mischief was
done to anything within the orchard. The prospect of the hours, the
quiet hours, the bright hours that he should spend here