ly
warm-hearted doctor. Poor Hector had little or nothing to do, and the
pleasure of possession had not come yet; he had no companion of his own
age, and bashfulness made him shrink with dislike from introduction to
his tenants and neighbours.

There was not an entertaining book in the house, he declared, and the
captain snubbed him, if he bought anything he cared to read. The captain
was always at him to read musty old improving books, and talking about
the position he would occupy. The evenings were altogether unbearable,
and if it were not for rabbit shooting now, and the half-year soon
beginning again, Hector declared he should be ready to cut and run, and
leave Captain Gordon and Maplewood to each other--and very well matched
too! He was nearly in a state of mind to imitate that unprecedented boy,
who wrote a letter to 'The Times', complaining of extra weeks.

As to Cocksmoor, Ethel must not think it forgotten; he had spoken to the
captain about it, and the old wooden-head had gone and answered that it
was not incumbent on him, that Cocksmoor had no claims upon him, and he
could not make it up out of his allowance; for the old fellow would not
give him a farthing more than he had before, and had said that was too
much.

There was a great blur over the words "wooden-head," as if Hector had
known that Margaret would disapprove, and had tried to scratch it
out. She wrote all the consolation in her power, and exhorted him
to patience, apparently without much effect. She would not show his
subsequent letters, and the reading and answering them fatigued her so
much, that Hector's writing was an unwelcome sight at Stoneborough. Each
letter, as Ethel said, seemed so much taken out of her, and she begged
her not to think about them.

"Nothing can do me much good or harm now," said Margaret; and seeing
Ethel's anxious looks, "Is it not my greatest comfort that Hector can
still treat me as his sister, or, if I can only be of any use in keeping
him patient? Only think of the danger of a boy, in his situation, being
left without sympathy!"

There was nothing more to be said. They all felt it was good for them
that the building at Cocksmoor gave full occupation to thoughts and
conversation; indeed, Tom declared they never walked in any other
direction, nor talked of anything else, and that without Hector, or
George Rivers, he had nobody to speak to. However, he was a good deal
tranquillised by an introduction to Dr. Spence