look upon
him with a sort of pity, instead of wishing him joy; and this spoiled
his pleasure a good deal. When he came home from his walk, Agnes thought
he looked less happy than when he went out; and she feared his spirits
were down about Crofton.

His spirits were up and down many times during the next three weeks. He
thought these weeks would never be over. Every day dragged on more
slowly than the last; at every meal he was less inclined to eat; and his
happiest time was when going to bed, because he was a day nearer
Crofton. His mother, foreseeing just what happened, wished to have kept
the news from him till within a week of his departure, and had agreed
with Mr. Proctor that it should be so. But Mr. Proctor hated secrets,
and, as we see, let it out immediately.

At last, the day came;--a warm, sunny, autumn day, on which any one
might have enjoyed the prospect of a drive into the country. The coach
was to set off from an inn in Fleet-street at noon, and would set Hugh
down at his uncle's door in time for dinner, the distance being
twenty-eight miles. His uncle's house was just two miles from the
school. Phil would probably be there to meet his brother, and take him
to Crofton in the afternoon.

How to get rid of the hours till noon was the question. Hugh had had
everything packed up, over which he had any control, for some days. He
had not left himself a plaything of those which he might carry: and it
frightened him that his mother did not seem to think of packing his
clothes till after breakfast this very morning. When she entered his
room for the purpose, he was fidgeting about, saying to himself that he
should never be ready. Agnes came with her mother, to help: but before
the second shirt was laid in the box, she was in tears, and had to go
away; for every one in the house was in the habit of hiding tears from
Mrs. Proctor, who rarely shed them herself, and was known to think that
they might, generally be suppressed, and should be so.

As Hugh stood beside her, handing stockings and handkerchiefs, to fill
up the corners of the box, she spoke as she might not have done if they
had not been alone. She said but a few words; but Hugh never forgot
them.

"You know, my dear," said she, "that I do not approve of dwelling upon
troubles. You know I never encourage my children to fret about what
cannot be helped."

There was nothing in the world that Hugh was more certain of than this.

"And yet I tell you," s