Chapter 11

MOVING HOME.

School again--Leaving the farm--Like father, like son--Tea for two--The doctor retires--Miss Parker's oration.

Clouds and sunshine, sunshine and clouds. So runs the world away. Equally necessary, sorrow and gladness are as the rains and sunbeams for the fruits of the earth. Were it all sadness the world would grow morose and torpid; were it all gladness men would be selfish and hard-hearted.

Four days had now elapsed since Mrs Campbell died; and it was the evening of the funeral-day, a sad, rainy evening, and Harry was waiting while Mrs Valentine packed his things, for that night he was to go to the Grammar-School to sleep; to be there as a boarder, at any rate till his father returned. He scarcely spoke a word, and what he did say seemed to choke him. His mother dead; his father away at sea; himself sent back to the school he had left but a few days since, smarting with the pain of his undeserved punishment and accusation; his plight was indeed a sad one. Mrs Valentine tried to cheer him as well as she might, but she felt the blow that left Harry motherless too bitterly herself to be of much comfort to him.

At half-past seven William appeared with a light cart of Dr Palmer's, to take Harry and his luggage to school. Perhaps the bluntness of the old butler was more opportune now than ever. It prevented the lengthening of a parting that could not be otherwise than utterly sad and wretched to Harry. There was the good kind Mrs Valentine to leave; and the dear old farm, where he had spent so many joyous days in happy ignorance of the blow which now had stricken him. And there was the churchyard to say good-bye to, which now he could see but seldom, and when he was near her grave, his mother did not seem to him to be so far away.

But William was not unkindly blunt. Yet the sight of him brought back to Harry's mind the recollection of all that had occurred at school on the last occasion he had seen William's obese person. The crib found in his desk, the fight, the caning, and then--then, back came the recollection that he was indeed alone.

"Good-bye, my dear, good-bye," said Mrs Valentine; "be sure you come and see me when you can. Papa'll be home soon, maybe," though she feared she was but holding out false hopes in this.

"There, that'll do, missis," said William, interrupting the moist embraces of the good farmer's wife; and he flicked the fat pony across his sleek shoulder; and, with Harry and his boxes, was soon away down the lane, Mrs Valentine gazing after them, her long print apron at her eyes.

"Just like his father, dear boy, as brave and composed like. But 'tis harder a'most for all that." And who would say that her moralising was wrong?

As a special favour, and "in consideration of his late deplorable affliction," as Miss Parker, the matron, phrased it, Harry was to have his tea in Doctor Palmer's study that night, a favour Harry by no means saw in the light intended. He would far rather have had his tea with the rest; though, for the matter of that, he didn't want any tea at all. He was too miserable to eat. But his face was quiet and composed when he reached Doctor Palmer's hall, and was ushered into the study.

The tea was all ready,--two cups, two saucers, two plates,--so Harry was prepared for a _tête-à-tête_ with the Doctor. Everything looked very nice and tempting, at least, it would have looked so on any other occasion; but now there was that numerical horror staring him in the face; those two cups, those two saucers, those two plates! It must be for Doctor Palmer and himself that all the preparations were made. But he was not left long in doubt, for, at that moment, the Doctor entered. He greeted Harry most kindly, and told him to take a seat at the table, which Harry did in silence; and then the Doctor poured out a cup of tea for him, and helped him to some cold meat. Harry watching every motion the while; and then, taking a cup for himself, drank it standing.

Harry hated all this kindness. He would almost have preferred angry words; but he ate what he had, and enjoyed it, though he said nothing more than "yes," or "no, thank you," or "please," to the Doctor's various remarks.

It was becoming unbearable, and he longed for the distant etiquette which school-life sets between boys and masters. He was in no mood for a master to try to play the parent, especially when now the contrast seemed so great, and lying, as he was, under false imputations.

But he was soon relieved, for Doctor Palmer said:

"I have to go out now, Campbell. Don't hurry over your tea, but when you have quite finished you can go to bed. You need not wait up for prayers."

"Thank you, sir," answered Harry, brighter for the first time. Relief was come at last, and the study-door closing over the Doctor's portly form was the welcomest sight Harry had seen for many days.

Once alone, he lingered over his tea. He knew he wouldn't be interrupted, and the contents of the table seemed doubly good now. He even looked at some books, and at last became so absorbed in one, that he went on reading, regardless of time, till he heard the boarders' prayer-bell ringing, at the sound of which he hurried off to bed. On the stairs he met the matron.

"Oh, Master Campbell, I was looking for you. You're changed into No. 7 dormitory. I put your box by your bed, so you'll know where you're to sleep. How are you now, dear," she added, kindly, "have you heard from your papa? when's he coming home? You'll try and be a good boy, won't you? You must think how it would vex your dear ma; and you won't give Doctor Palmer cause to cane you again, I know," and Miss Parker smoothed her apron, and took breath after her long-winded oration.

There it was at last. Harry feared it would come sooner or later, this allusion to the crib. He burst out indignantly,--

"Mamma believed me, Miss Parker, if nobody else did. She knew I didn't crib; but I won't bear it, I won't," he cried passionately, as he ran up-stairs to his new destination.