He could
hardly bear to take his jacket off; however, presently, with an effort,
off it came, and then he paused and looked at Tom, who was sitting at
the bottom of his bed talking and laughing.
"Please, Brown," he whispered, "may I wash my face and hands?"
"Of course, if you like," said Tom, staring; "that's your
washhand-stand, under the window, second from your bed. You'll have to
go down for more water in the morning if you use it all." And on he went
with his talk, while Arthur stole timidly from between the beds out
to his washhand-stand, and began his ablutions, thereby drawing for a
moment on himself the attention of the room.
On went the talk and laughter. Arthur finished his washing and
undressing, and put on his night-gown. He then looked round more
nervously than ever. Two or three of the little boys were already in
bed, sitting up with their chins on their knees. The light burned clear,
the noise went on. It was a trying moment for the poor little lonely
boy; however, this time he didn't ask Tom what he might or might not do,
but dropped on his knees by his bedside, as he had done every day from
his childhood, to open his heart to Him who heareth the cry and beareth
the sorrows of the tender child, and the strong man in agony.
Tom was sitting at the bottom of his bed unlacing his boots, so that his
back was towards Arthur, and he didn't see what had happened, and looked
up in wonder at the sudden silence.
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