g the
holidays. I was anything but pleased myself at the arrangement, but
was compelled to grin and bear it.

"I will not be _too_ sure, but I think I hid myself and cried, after
Willie Wilcox, the last boy to leave, had shaken me by the hand,
saying, 'Cheer up, old fellow; I'm sorry for you, but I suppose it
can't be helped. I'll write you a line while I am away.' It was all
very well to say 'Cheer up,' but my spirits had gradually sunk at each
boy's departure, until they were far below zero when I found myself
alone. I wandered aimlessly about the playground, which had never
before appeared so deserted or silent, kicking stones about with my
feet, and making holes in the ground with the heels of my boots. I
sauntered up to the school-room windows, and stared in at the empty
room, and at the long desks, which looked strange and unfamiliar. Even
the doctor's wife did not raise my spirits when she kindly said, 'You
may go into the garden, Hall, whenever you like, and pick some fruit,
but be sure you do not eat too much, so as to make yourself unwell.' I
availed myself of the privilege, and ate more fruit than I have ever
done since. No, nothing could banish the cloud from my face, nor the
gloom from my heart. I never knew what loneliness was before. Even
night did not wrap me in forgetfulness, for although by way of variety
I lay in a different bed each night, sleep seemed to have gone home
for a holiday as well as the boys, for it would seldom visit my
couch.

"This state of things went on for a week. I took long walks, but the
zest seemed to have gone out of them since I was alone, for they were
nothing like so pleasant as when my companions were with me. A change
came, however, which made the remaining days a little more bright and
cheery.

"On the first day of the second week of the holidays, I had sauntered
away from the house, and was hunting for nuts in a little wood or
plantation, not far from the grounds of Squire Aveling. I was absorbed
in my occupation until I heard a scream in the adjoining lane, and the
terrified voice of a girl exclaim, 'Oh! papa! papa! do come!' and then
another scream, followed by the deep bay of a dog. I bounded from the
wood, cleared the old palings which separated it from the lane with
one jump, and was just in time to throttle a big brute of a dog round
the neck, as it was in the very act of springing upon a little girl,
who, in terror, was crouching down in the road.

"The dog