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The New Boy
Lowell. Tom and Arthur in Cloister I do not mean to recount all the little troubles and annoyances which thronged upon Tom at the beginning of this half-year, in his new character of bear-leader to a gentle little boy straight from home. He seemed to himself to have become a new boy again, without any of the long-suffering and meekness indispensable for supporting that character with moderate success. From morning till night he had the feeling of responsibility on his mind, and even if he left Arthur in their study or in the close for an hour, was never at ease till he had him in sight again. He waited for him at the doors of the school after every lesson and every calling-over; watched that no tricks were played him, and none but the regulation questions asked; kept his eye on his plate at dinner and breakfast, to see that no unfair depredations were made upon his viands; in short, as East remarked, cackled after him like a hen with one chick. Arthur took a long time thawing, too, which made it all the harder work; was sadly timid; scarcely ever spoke unless Tom spoke to him first, and, worst of all, would agree with him in everything, the hardest thing in the world for a Brown to bear. He got quite angry sometimes, as they sat together of a night in their study, at this provoking habit of agreement, and was on the point of breaking out a dozen times with a lecture upon the propriety of a fellow having a will of his own and speaking out; but managed to restrain himself by the thought that he might only frighten Arthur, and the remembrance of the lesson he had learnt from him on his first night at Number 4. Then he would resolve to sit still and not say a word till Arthur began; but he was always beat at that game, and had presently to begin talking in despair, fearing lest Arthur might think he was vexed at something if he didnt, and dog-tired of sitting tongue- tied. It was hard work! But Tom had taken it up, and meant to stick to it, and go through with it so as to satisfy himself; in which resolution he was much assisted by the chaffing of East and his other old friends who began to call him dry-nurse, and otherwise to break their small wit on him. But when they took other ground, as they did every now and then, Tom was sorely puzzled. Tell you what, Tommy, East would say, youll spoil young Hopeful with too much coddling. Why cant you let him go about by himself and find his own level? Hell never be worth a button, if you go on keeping him under your skirts. Well, but he aint fit to fight his own way yet; Im trying to get him to it every daybut hes very odd. Poor little beggar! I cant make him out a bit. He aint a bit like anything Ive ever seen or heard ofhe seems all over nerves; anything you say seems to hurt him like a cut or a blow. That sort of boys no use here, said East, hell only spoil. Now Ill tell you what to do, Tommy. Go and get a nice large band-box made, and put him in with plenty of cotton-wool and a pap-bottle, labelled With carethis side up, and send him back to mamma. I think I shall make a hand of him though, said Tom, smiling, say what you will. Theres something about him, every now and then, which shows me hes got pluck somewhere in him. Thats the only thing after all thatll wash, aint it, old Scud? But how to get at it and bring it out? Tom took one hand out of his breeches-pocket and stuck it in his back hair for a scratch, giving his hat a tilt over his nose, his one method of invoking wisdom. He stared at the ground with a ludicrously puzzled look, and presently looked up and met Easts eyes. That young gentleman slapped him on the back and then put his arm round his shoulder, as they strolled through the quadrangle together. Tom, said he, blest if you aint the best old fellow ever wasI do like to see you go into a thing. Hang it, I wish I |
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