Wholly unconscious of the agony which it inflicted upon the boy, Mrs.Sankey was incessantly quoting his opinions or utterances.
"Ned, I do wish you would not fidget with your feet.

You know your dear father often told you of it;" or, "As your dear father used to say, Ned;" until the boy in despair would throw down his book and rush out of the room to calm himself by a run in the frosty night air; while Mrs.
Sankey would murmur to herself, "That boy's temper gets worse and worse, and with my poor nerves how am I to control him ?" Mr.Porson was very kind to him in those days.

During that summer holiday he had very frequently spent the evening at Captain Sankey's, and had formed a pretty correct idea of the character of Ned's mother.
Thus when he saw that Ned, when he entered the school after breakfast or dinner, had an anxious hunted look, and was clearly in a state of high tension, he guessed he was having a bad time of it at home.
Charlie had fast got over the shock of his father's death; children quickly recover from a blow, and, though delicate, Charlie was of a bright and gentle disposition, ready to be pleased at all times, and not easily upset.
One morning when Ned came in from school looking pale and white, gave random answers to questions, and even, to the astonishment of the class, answered Mr.Porson himself snappishly, the master, when school was over and the boys were leaving their places, said: "Sankey, I want to have a few words with you in the study." Ned followed his master with an air of indifference.

He supposed that he was going to be lectured for the way he had spoken, but as he said to himself, "What did it matter! what did anything matter!" Mr.Porson did not sit down on entering the room, but when Ned had closed the door after him took a step forward and laid his hand on his shoulder.
"My boy," he said, "what is it that is wrong with you?
I fear that you have trouble at home." Ned stood silent, but the tears welled up into his eyes.
"It can't be helped, sir," he said in a choking voice, and then with an attempt at gayety: "it will be all the same fifty years hence, I suppose." "That is a poor consolation, Ned," Mr.Porson rejoined.

"Fifty years is a long time to look forward to.