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 alone with Dale,
delighted Hugh: and when he told Dale, Dale liked the prospect too; and
they went together, at the earliest opportunity, to survey their new
domain, and plan where they would sit in spring, and how they would lie
on the grass in summer, and be closer and closer friends for ever.

Holt was encouraged to hope that he should have his turn sometimes; but
he saw that, though Hugh cared more for him than before the holidays, he
yet loved Dale the best.

While Hugh was still in spirits at the thought that his worst trials
were over, and the pleasure of his indulgences to come, he felt very
complacent; and he thought he would gratify himself with one more
reading of the theme which he had written in the holidays,--the theme
which he really believed Mr Tooke might fairly praise,--so great had
been the pains he had taken with the composition, and so neatly was it
written out. He searched for it in vain among his books and in his
portfolio. Then he got leave to go up to his room, and turn over all
his clothes. He did so in vain