November 30th.—I haven't spoken to Tom for a week, but he's so mixed up with the other fellows now that he don't seem to mind; but I am very dull, and it makes me very miserable not to have Tom working with me at our boats as we used to do. I have found out, too, that Chandos is not a general favourite in the school, but he has two or three friends—chums, like Tom and I used to be—who seem to be fond of reading, and don't get into so many scrapes as Tom's set. I belong to nobody just now. I join in a game sometimes when I don't feel too sulky; but I miss Tom too much to feel pleased with anybody else, though Chandos and I talk a bit sometimes when we go to bed. Last night we were talking about prayer. Fancy boys talking about that; but it seems Chandos believes it is all as real—as real as writing a letter to his mother, and as sure of having an answer. I was as much surprised as when the Doctor talked about us having a conscience; for it seems Chandos is not going to be a parson after all, but is to go into his uncle's counting-house, just as mother wants me to do. The only difference is that Chandos has made up his mind to it because it is his duty, he says, though he hates it as much as I do, and wants to be a doctor awfully. I begin to think the world is a dreadful puzzle. Why can't people do just what they like, instead of being driven to do what they hate so often? Chandos is a first-rate sort of fellow too, I think, in spite of his white face and curly hair; and yet he's got to do what he don't like, so that being good don't seem to have much to do with it, though my old nurse used to say good boys were always happy. Well, I'm not good, anyhow, so it's not very wonderful that I'm pretty miserable; only Tom seems happy enough, and he ought to be miserable too, which is another of the puzzles, I suppose.
December 10th.—Everybody is essay mad—that is, all the fellows in our class who have gone in for it. Chandos and I never talk about it to each other, but I know he is disappointed, for he was ill the first part of this half, and so he will have no prizes to take home at Christmas. I suppose I should be disappointed too if I was one of the fellows that grind, but I don't see the use of it, and so prizes don't come in my way. Not but what I should like to please mamma, and she would be pleased, I know, if such a wonder was to happen; but then I hate books, unless they are about the sea, or something of that sort. I shall be glad when the holidays are here now. I should not like to confess it even to Tom, but I want to see my mother, and ask her some of the questions that have puzzled me lately. Then there is always lots of fun at Christmas, and there has been so little here. Another week and this essay fuss will be over, and then the fellows will talk about the other prizes and going home, and I shall try to forget all the bother, and Tom's share in it too, if I can. I wonder who will get this essay prize—not Tom, I am certain.
December 18th.—Tom has got the prize. I cannot understand it one bit. I know he has gone in for lots of grind lately, like the other fellows, but there were two or three that I felt sure would be better up to that kind of work than he was. I cannot feel glad that he has won it, and I have not told him I am; and some of the fellows that were most urgent for him to go in have scarcely spoken to him since. I wonder whether they think, as I do, that this watch should of right belong to Chandos. Tom and I are going home together. No one at home knows anything of what has happened, and I shall not tell them if I can help it. Chandos has asked me to go and see him in the holidays, and I mean to ask mamma to let him come to our house. I think I shall like that better than going to his place, for I fancy his people are dreadfully religious, and we know nothing about that sort of thing, but I don't like to be thought quite a heathen.
January 20th.—The holidays are over, and we are back at school in our old places once more. Tom has taken up the notion that I am envious of his good luck in getting the watch. Good luck! I call it bad luck, for it was a bad business altogether, and I let out something about this at home; but mamma only thought it was one of our ordinary quarrels.
I went to see Chandos in the holidays. He has several brothers and sisters; one of them has come back with him to school, and is among the juniors, although he is only a year or two younger than his brother; but he has been delicate, and is very backward, and so was obliged to go into the lower division of the school. I like Mrs. Chandos very much. She is religious after a different pattern from my Aunt Phoebe, and somehow everything seems so real about her that I don't wonder Chandos believes everything she says. But I don't mean to like Chandos too much. He is all very well, but he is not Tom, and can never be my lieutenant. I had a talk to mamma about going to sea, but she is as obstinate as ever. I told Chandos of this when he came to see me, and he said, "Then I am afraid you will have to give it up, Stewart."
"Give it up! give up the sea! you don't know what you are talking about, Chandos!"
"Yes, I do, for I wanted to be a doctor quite as badly as you want to go to sea; but when my father died, and my mother told me how impossible it was that my wish could be gratified, I set to work at once to conquer it."
"Set to work to conquer it! But how could you do that?" I said.
"I—I began in the only way I could; I asked God to help me for my mother's sake to overcome the selfish desire, and make me willing to do all I could to learn what was necessary to be a merchant."
"But you don't hate the idea of being chained to a desk as I do, or you wouldn't talk so coolly about it."
"Not now. But I did hate it quite as much as you can, Stewart; but I remembered that my mother was not rich. When my father died we were very much reduced, and if I should offend my uncle by refusing this offer he might refuse to help the younger ones by-and-by; and so you see it was my duty to forget myself and my own wishes, and do what I could to help my mother."
"But my mother does not need my help, and so I don't see why I should give up everything I want, if you do."
"Your mother may not want your help, but she wants you. You are her only son, and—and shall I tell you?—I have heard of such things happening, you know—she may break her heart if you run away to sea. You would not do that, Stewart."
"Break her heart! Kill my mother! Chandos, you know me better than that!"
"Yes, I do, Stewart, and that is why I have spoken in time; but I have heard of boys going to sea and coming home expecting to find everything as they left it, and finding mother and father both dead—killed by grief for the runaway."
"Oh, that's all twaddle, you know, Chandos; nobody ever really died of a broken heart," I said.
"Then you mean to try the experiment on your mother? Very well, Stewart; if you will, you will, I know; only beware of the consequences, for if the twaddle should prove truth it would cause you lifelong unhappiness afterwards."
This ended his lecture, and I made up my mind to forget it as soon as I could; but somehow it mixes itself up with everything, and try as I will I cannot forget it. Of course, I don't want to run away, if I can persuade mamma to let me go to sea properly; but if she won't, what am I to do? I can't and won't go to be perched up at an office desk all day, and so there will be nothing else I can do but cut and run some fine morning. Of course, I shall write to mamma just before I sail, and tell her I'm all right and jolly, and when she knows that she'll soon be all right. Tom and I have talked over the plan dozens of times, for he was to come with me, only somehow I don't want him so much now, though his watch might be handy to sell if we were short of money on the road, for I suppose we should have to go to Liverpool, or Plymouth, or Southampton, or some of those places. Bother Chandos, making me feel uncomfortable about it. But there, I'm not going to run away to-day, and so I'll forget the whole bother.
January 26th.—At last we are going to have some fun. It has been freezing splendidly these two days, and if the governor hadn't been a duffer he would have let us go out on the ice to-day, for there is a first-rate pond—two or three, in fact—close by, and I know the ice will bear; but he has promised we shall go to-morrow, and everybody has been looking up skates in readiness. I hope it will not thaw to-night, for we are all looking forward to the fun we shall have to-morrow—all but Chandos, and he has taken it into his head that his brother ought to stay at home, as he has a cold. But Chandos junior has a will of his own, I can see, and I mean to help him to stand out against his brother's coddling, and give Miss Chandos a fright into the bargain, if I can. It will be good fun to coax the youngster to go to another pond, especially if one happens to be labelled "Dangerous." I fancy I can see his brother now running about like a hen after her brood of ducklings, for he does fuss after this youngster, as though he was different from other boys, and I'll stop it if I can.
February 4th.—I wonder whether I can put down in my log all that has happened. I shall try, for I am very dull to-day sitting up here alone while the others are in school.
It did not thaw, as everybody feared it would, and we started for the ponds in good time, Swain and the other master with us, for the governor would not trust us alone, which made some of the fellows pretty wild, and they vowed Swain should not come for nothing. Just before we started Tom came tearing across the playground to me and said, "You've split on Chandos junior!"
"Split on him! What do you mean? I don't often speak to the youngster; you and your set know more about him than I do," I said.
"Yes, but you and Miss Chandos are as thick as thieves, and you know he did not want young Frank to go to-day."
"Yes, I do know that, and I said if I was Frank I wouldn't be coddled to that tune. What of that?"
"Why, Chandos has locked him up or something, for he isn't here."
"Locked up your grandmother! How could he do that without appealing to the governor? and you know Chandos is not likely to do that now. The youngster will turn up presently, unless he has made up his mind to do as his brother wishes, and declares himself on the sick-list. There are three to stay indoors, you know."
"Yes, but young Chandos won't stay if he can help it. We've laughed him out of that—told him the school calls his brother a young lady for his meek ways, and the sooner he breaks away from her apron-string the better."
"Well, Chandos is too fussy," I said; "but don't lead the youngster into any harm, Tom. I'll help with some fun, just to give Chandos a fright, you know."
"Bravo, Charley! Jackson was just talking about the same thing, and we'll do it now." And we both rushed off to Jackson and the rest, to inquire if they had seen anything of the youngster.
"It's what I call confoundedly selfish, if Chandos has stopped the young prig from coming out," said one of the fellows.
"Chandos ain't selfish," I said; for, though I felt cross with Chandos myself, I did not care to hear him run down by Tom's set.
"Well, I don't know what you would call it, but if somebody tried to make me stay at home the only day we are likely to have any fun on the ice, I should feel ready to punch him."
"I don't believe Chandos junior will stay. But now, what are you going to do with him when he comes?"
"Do with him! Do you think we want to eat him, Stewart?"
"No, I don't suppose you do; but mind, there's to be no harm done—no sousing him, or anything of that sort. If it's just a bit of fun, to give Chandos senior a fright, I'll be in it."
"I should think you would, for things are awfully slow here now. Tom says you used to be up to anything, but since Miss Chandos—"
"There, we won't talk about that; Tom knows all about it, if you don't." And I was just turning away when Frank Chandos ran towards us with his skates in his hand, looking angry and defiant at his brother, who had followed him half across the playground.
A few minutes afterwards we started for the ponds in groups and knots of twos and threes, all laughing and chattering together, the masters at the head, and leading the way to the broadest and shallowest.
"Now, boys, I think you can skate and slide to your hearts' delight here; but mind, Dr. Mellor has given orders that no one is to go to the pond round by the alder bushes, for there are dangerous holes in it, as you all know, and if the ice should break—well, you know what the consequences are likely to be."
"All right, sir, we'll keep clear of that," said two or three, as they were fastening the straps of their skates, while some, who had already begun sliding, laughed at the notion of the ice breaking.
"It is as firm as the schoolroom floor, and one is as likely to give way as the other."
"I don't believe the governor would have let us come here at all if all the ponds hadn't been safe," I said.
"Safe! of course they're safe. The governor knows that; only he must tell us something by way of a scare. He's as bad as Miss Chandos," said Tom.
"Where is the young lady," I said, "and the youngster? We must look after them."
We were off now spinning across the pond, Tom and I, with Jackson close behind, and the three of us managed to keep together.
"What a lark it would be to take Chandos junior to the alder pond," said Jackson, looking at me as he wheeled round on his skates.
"We'll do it," I said; "but not just now. Wait a bit, till the fellows get warm to the work, and they won't miss us. We must keep our eye on the youngster. Is he skating or sliding?"
"Skating; but that don't matter," said Tom.
"No, but if Chandos senior had the skates on it would be all the better. They are his skates too; I happen to know that, and so I shall tell Master Frank presently that he ought not to stick to them for the whole afternoon."
"I see; if Chandos senior should happen to see us he will not be able to fly to the rescue of his duckling at once. But look here, Stewart, we'll manage so that he don't know anything about it."
"Oh, no, we won't! I want him to see us, to tease him a bit. I say, Jackson, are you a judge of ice? Don't you think this seems to be giving a bit?" I said.
"No, it's as firm as a rock. What ice would give in such a cutting wind as this?" And Jackson pulled his comforter closer round his throat as he spoke.
We were all pretty well wrapped up in great-coats and mufflers and worsted gloves, so that when we had a fall, as most of us did every few minutes, we had something to break the concussion a little; but these heavy things would prove rather awkward if the ice should break and let us through.
I said something about this to Jackson, but he laughed at the notion, and Tom said, "Why, what has come to you lately, Charley? You have been tied to Miss Chandos's apron-string until you have got to be a coward. I believe now you are afraid to go to the alder pond."
"Am I? you shall see about that. Where's Chandos junior?" And I wheeled off at once to look for the youngster and see what Miss Chandos was about, and whether Swain was likely to have his eye upon our movements.
I cannot write any more to-day. To-morrow I shall be stronger, I hope, and then I may finish this story about our skating.