"I was just going to put it back," he said, "when she had to interfere."He was conscious of a sense of injury against Jessie. It was not his fault that that money was not now in the drawer.
"I'll put it back in the morning, anyhow," he said, firmly. But even as he spoke he was conscious of an infinality in his determination, while he refused to acknowledge to himself a secret purpose to leave the question open till the morning. But this determination, inconclusive though it was, brought him a certain calm of mind, so that when his mother came into his room she found him sound asleep.
She stood beside his bed looking down upon him for a few moments, with face full of anxious sadness.
"There's something wrong with the boy," she said to herself, stooping to kiss him. "There's something wrong with him," she repeated, as she left the room. "He's not the same."During these weeks she had been conscious that Hughie had changed in some way to her. The old, full, frank confidence was gone.
There was a constraint in his manner she could not explain. "He is no longer a child," she would say to herself, seeking to allay the pain in her heart. "A boy must have his secrets. It is foolish in me to think anything else. Besides, he is not well. He is growing too fast." And indeed, Hughie's pale, miserable face gave ground enough for this opinion.
"That boy is not well," she said to her husband.
"Which boy?"
"Hughie," she replied. "He is looking miserable, and somehow he is different.""Oh, nonsense! He eats well enough, and sleeps well enough," said her husband, ****** light of her fears.
"There's something wrong," repeated his wife. "And he hates his school.""Well, I don't wonder at that," said her husband, sharply. "Idon't see how any boy of spirit could take much pleasure in that kind of a school. The boys are just wasting their time, and worse than that, they have lost all the old spirit. I must see to it that the policy of those close-fisted trustees is changed. I am not going to put up with those chits of girls teaching any longer.""There may be something in what you say," said his wife, sadly, "but certainly Hughie is always begging to stay at home from school.""And indeed, he might as well stay home," answered her husband, "for all the good he gets.""I do wish we had a good man in charge," replied his wife, with a great sigh. "It is very important that these boys should have a good, strong man over them. How much it means to a boy at Hughie's time of life! But so few are willing to come away into the backwoods here for so small a salary."Suddenly her husband laid down his pipe.
"I have it!" he exclaimed. "The very thing! Wouldn't this be the very thing for young Craven. You remember, the young man that Professor MacLauchlan was writing about."His wife shook her head very decidedly.
"Not at all," she said. "Didn't Professor MacLauchlan say he was dissipated?""O, just a little wild. Got going with some loose companions. Out here there would be no temptation.""I am not at all sure of that," said his wife, "and I would not like Hughie to be under his influence.""MacLauchlan says he is a young man of fine disposition and of fine parts," argued her husband, "and if temptation were removed from him he believes he would turn out a good man."Mrs. Murray shook her head doubtfully. "He is not the man to put Hughie under just now.""What are we to do with Hughie?" replied her husband. "He is getting no good in the school as it is, and we cannot send him away yet.""Send him away!" exclaimed his wife. "No, no, not a child like that.""Craven might be a very good man," continued her husband. "He might perhaps live with us. I know you have more than enough to do now," he added, answering her look of dismay, "but he would be a great help to Hughie with his lessons, and might start him in his classics. And then, who knows what you might make of the young man."Mrs. Murray did not respond to her husband's smile, but only replied, "I am sure I wish I knew what is the matter with the boy, and I wish he could leave school for a while.""O, the boy is all right," said her husband, impatiently. "Only a little less noisy, as far as I can see.""No, he is not the same," replied his wife. "He is different to me." There was almost a cry of pain in her voice.
"Now, now, don't imagine things. Boys are full of notions at Hughie's age. He may need a change, but that is all."With this the mother tried to quiet the tumult of anxious fear and pain she found rising in her heart, but long after the house was still, and while both her boy and his father lay asleep, she kept pouring forth that ancient sacrifice of self-effacing love before the feet of God.
