o, perhaps, it did not much matter. But there were two
blots; and he had left out Jonathan's name, which had to be interlined.
Altogether, it had the appearance of a very bad theme. Firth came and
looked over his shoulder, as he was gazing at it; and Firth offered to
write it out for him; and even thought it would be fair, as he had had
nothing to do with the composition: but Hugh could not think it would be
fair, and said, sighing, that his must take its chance. He did not think
he could have done a theme so very badly.

Mr. Tooke beckoned him up with Dale's class, when they carried up their
themes; and, seeing how red his face was, the master bade him not be
afraid. But how could he help being afraid? The themes were not read
directly. It was Mr. Tooke's practice to read them out of school-hours.
On this occasion, judgment was given the last thing before school broke
up the next morning.

Hugh had never been more astonished in his life. Mr. Tooke praised his
theme very much, and said it had surprised him. He did not mind the
blots and mistakes, which would, he said, have been great faults in a
copy-book, but were of less consequence than other things in a theme.
Time and pains would correct slovenliness of that kind; and the thoughts
and language were good. Hugh was almost out of his wits with delight; so
nearly so that he spoiled his own pleasure completely. He could not keep
his happiness to himself, or his vanity: for Hugh had a good deal of
vanity,--more than he was aware of before this day. He told several boys
what Mr. Tooke had said: but he soon found that would not do. Some were
indifferent, but most laughed at him. Then he ran to Mrs. Watson's
parlour, and knocked. Nobody answered; for the room was empty: so Hugh
sought her in various places, and at last found her in the kitchen,
boiling some preserves.

"What do you come here for? This is no place for you," said she, when
the maids tried in vain to put Hugh out.

"I only want to tell you one thing," cried Hugh; and he repeated exactly
what Mr. Tooke had said of his theme. Mrs. Watson laughed, and the maids
laughed, and Hugh left them, angry with them, but more angry with
himself. They did not care for him,--nobody cared for him, he said to
himself; he longed for his mother's look or approbation when he had done
well, and Agnes' pleasure, and even Susan's fondness and praise. He
sought Dale. Dale was in the midst of a game, and had not a word or look
to s