April 13th.—A month since I wrote up my log. I have been home for a few days' holiday, but the rest has been all grind, and not a single lark. I'm afraid I shan't be able to hold out much longer; and yet it seems jolly mean when God has made Frank Chandos almost well, and saved me from being miserable all my life.
I had a letter from Frank yesterday, and he says he can run about—clamber over the rocks and build castles in the sand now. I wish I was at the seaside, though it would be better to be on the sea. I shall run away soon to get away from this grind if something don't happen, though I'm not sure that it wouldn't be as mean as cribbing. The fellows have sent me to Coventry over that, and everything is as dull as can be. I wish something would happen; even a row would be a change.
April 20th.—Something has happened, or is going to happen, at least; and I've laughed so much already over it that my sides ached. Yesterday morning I heard a knocking at our bedroom door just before the dressing-bell rang.
"Who's there?" I called out.
"Hush up and come out here," came a whisper through the keyhole.
I knew it was Tom, and though I felt inclined to give him a turn at Coventry at first, I got up and opened the door.
"Now then, what's the row? Have you set all the water-jugs on fire?" I asked.
"We want you in our room a minute. Is Miss Chandos asleep?" he added.
"It ain't likely, with all the row you've been making at this door. What do you want, Tom? You know I'm in Coventry."
"Well, you won't be much longer. We'll give up about the cribs, Charley; you've beat us. But slip on some of your things and come into our room. Collins wants to speak to you. He's got some news."
"And a hamper too, hasn't he?"
"Yes, but there wasn't much besides clothes, and that's what's put him out."
"Does he think I'm to blame, then?" I said.
"No, but he thinks you might help him fill it. But come on, Charley, now, before Swain comes. We must think of something at once."
"I shan't be a minute, Chandos," I said, slipping my head inside the door; and then I followed Tom to his room. This is a good deal larger than ours, and has six beds in it, Jackson, Collins, and Tom, with three others, sleeping here. They were all perched on Collins's bed when we went in, talking over the matter upon which Tom had been dispatched.
"I say, Stewart, you'll promise us, first of all, not to tell what goes on here, even if you shouldn't join the fun?"
"Did you ever know me to turn sneak, any of you fellows?" I asked, rather angrily.
"You need not get your back up, Stewart; we only asked you a civil question, and you might give us a civil answer. It's all right, though; I don't believe you'd peach."
"No, I wouldn't."
"Well, I believe you. Now, look here. The governor's birthday is on the twenty-fourth, and we shall have a holiday—a whole holiday, this year, as I happen to know; for I overheard Swain talking about the weather being unusually fine, and the boys having worked very steadily lately; they were to have the whole day to spend at Dinglewell. You've never been to Dinglewell, have you, Stewart?"
"No, but I've heard about it."
"Oh, it's the jolliest place! and we can do pretty much as we like in the woods. There's only one thing they're mean about, and that's the grub. Sandwiches and stale buns I don't relish, especially when I think of the pantry shelves almost cracking with the good things at home; for you must know there's always a grand dinner-party in the evening, and cook begins preparing for it days beforehand. I tell you, Stewart, it's enough to make a fellow's mouth water to see the pies and tarts and custards standing there."
"You're not obliged to look at them, I suppose?"
"Oh, it's not the looking at them I object to, but the not tasting; and I mean to remedy that this year. Are you game for a lark?"
"Just try me, that's all!" I said.
"Charley's good for any lark that don't hurt anybody," said Tom.
"Then this will fit him as nicely as possible, for nobody will be hurt. Even the governor himself will laugh over it, and we shall have a jolly feed into the bargain."
"You mean to have some of the pies and tarts out of cook's pantry, then?"
"Exactly, old fellow. You'd help us, I know."
"What am I to do?" I asked; "and how are you going to get them away—put them in your pockets?"
"Pockets be bothered! No, everybody knows I had a hamper from home yesterday, and I mean to let the school think it was stuffed full of good things, and that I mean to save them until we go to Dinglewell."
"Oh, I see," I said, laughing; but there wasn't time to say any more, for the bell rang, and I was obliged to hurry back to my room, for there's no telling when or where Swain will turn up in the morning.
Chandos looked at me when I got back, but he would not ask any questions, and of course I can't split on the other fellows.
Later in the day I had another talk with Collins about clearing the larder, and we agreed to do it the night before we went to Dinglewell; and the things were to be packed in his hamper, and Swain is to be asked beforehand to let it go in the cart with the other grub and things. This is the best of the whole fun, to think Swain should help us clear the governor's larder. I laughed until Collins declared I should bring it all out and spoil it. I wouldn't be out of this fun for anything. I only wish I could be at home when cook finds it out. I'd give my share of the fun to see the scare.
 
CLEARING THE LARDER.
April 23rd.—I've only time for a line before Chandos comes in, and the other fellows don't want him to know anything of what's going on. We've done it—cleared the larder of every pie and custard we could get hold of. I thought we should be caught once, and my hair almost stood on end as I heard cook's voice outside the door; but she went on, and so did we. I handed the things to Collins through the window, and each fellow in the secret took something and stole up to his room with it, and now they are all safely packed in the hamper, and Swain has promised it shall go in the cart. Poor old Swain, if he only knew what he had promised! But he'll never know that he helped to clear the governor's pantry, although he'll pull a long face to-morrow when he comes home and finds there's precious little to eat. The best of the fun is, they won't find out that they're gone until dinner is nearly ready, for the precious things were packed on the top shelves out of the way, and I nearly broke my neck once trying to reach them. I wonder what Chandos will say about this when he hears of it? He is looking forward to the fun we shall have in the woods to-morrow as much as anybody. I wonder whether he would think this innocent fun? I don't think I shall go to the feed, though I helped to get the things, for Collins won't ask him, which I think is rather mean of him, considering that Chandos had to stay here for the Easter holidays, while the rest of us went home for a fortnight.
I wonder what we shall do with the dishes when we've eaten the pies! We can't bring 'em home, that's certain, and Swain mustn't see them either, and he'll expect to be invited, for Collins has pitched him a fine yarn about the things his mother has sent for this feed. I must ask Collins what he means to do about this, for if we don't look out the crockery will spoil the whole game. What a pity it is they can't make pies without dishes! I almost wish I'd only brought those little tarts that Collins carried away in his handkerchief. They got broken a bit, and some of the jam ran out, but they're just as good broken as whole, and there's no dishes to worry about. Bother the dishes! I must go and speak to him about them before Chandos comes up. I wonder why he is downstairs so long after time. Surely he can't have any mischief on hand!
April 25th.—Our holiday is over, and the fun too; but I'm afraid we haven't heard the last of the governor's pies. If he only knew what a bother they were to us after all, and how often we wished them back in the pantry even before we had eaten them, he would feel more comfortable about it, I should think, for it's the last time I'll ever have anything to do with robbing a larder, even for a lark. It was all through the dishes. Nobody knew how we were to get rid of them, and some of the fellows got so frightened they wanted to pitch the whole lot away. But we couldn't do that, even if Collins and Jackson would have agreed to it, for the hamper had gone in the cart, and we couldn't get at it until Swain said, soon after we reached Dinglewell, "Would you like your hamper left with the other things until dinner-time, Collins?"
"I don't think so, sir, Stewart and Jackson, and a few more of us, are going to look for ferns, and so we can carry the hamper, and if we shouldn't get back by dinner-time it won't matter."
"I don't know so much about that," said Swain, turning rather rusty; "I cannot let you stray miles off. You may take the hamper, of course, but you must not go beyond the old tower, and then I shall know where to find you if you are wanted."
"The contrary old hunks—he's never done that before!" grumbled Collins, as we turned away, carrying the hamper between us.
We didn't feel very jolly about the thing now, and I wished I could back out of it and join the football party with Chandos and the rest. We might have been carrying a coffin with the body of somebody we'd killed, by the solemn way we marched along. As soon as we were away from Swain and the rest I said, "Now let's pitch all the rubbish down the first hole we can find."
"That's your own throat, I suppose, Stewart," said Jackson.
"No, I don't want a bit; I've had enough thinking of the dishes," I said.
"Oh, hang the dishes! I wish you hadn't thought of them at all, or had left them in the pantry," said Collins.
"Well, I like that—after dragging me into the scrape to grumble at me for helping! Now, look here, I've had enough of the fun, and will give up the feed to you, and go back to the rest, if you like."
"And leave me to take care of the precious dishes! I knew you were a coward, Stewart."
"No, I'm not a coward, and I'll stay and see it out, if you like. We must smash the dishes up, you know, and throw the bits about. Swain will never see anything of them then."
"Bravo, Charley! What a pity we hadn't thought of that before! Now, then, let's find a place where we can be sure to be to ourselves, and when we've cleared out the good things we'll begin the smashing business."
It did not take us long to demolish the pies and custards, and each dish as it was emptied was broken into pieces, and we amused ourselves by throwing these as far as we could in every direction.
It was quite a relief when the last tart was eaten and the last dish scattered, and I then proposed returning to the others, for, our penance over, surely we might have some play now.
"You forget we've come fern-grubbing," said Collins. "I propose that, as we have robbed the governor of his dinner, we should take him something for his fernery. It will help to ward off suspicion, too, I should think; it ought, I am sure."
"I am not at all sure," I said, "and I know nothing about ferns either."
"He wants to get back to his nurse," laughed Jackson.
"Miss Chandos said he mustn't be long," put in Tom, provokingly; but the next minute he had measured his length on the ground, for if I did want to have a game with Chandos I wasn't going to be told of it by Tom.
Then the fellows all turned rusty, and there was something of a fight, until about the middle of the afternoon we were so tired of each other and our fruitless search for ferns that we threw the hamper away and went back to the rest.
"I knew you wouldn't get any ferns," said Swain, when he heard of the result of our expedition. "I suppose you have had your dinner?" he added, speaking rather stiffly.
"Yes, sir," answered Collins; and we were glad to turn away, for we fancied he looked at us very suspiciously.
We had certainly missed the fun to-day in our eagerness to grasp it; for seven more disagreeable, disconsolate boys it would be hard to find than we, as we sauntered towards the two football parties, who were running, shouting, laughing, and evidently enjoying the game wonderfully.
There seemed to be no room for us now, and we stood about watching the fun as it grew more fast and furious. Chandos saw me at last, and ran across to where I was standing.
"Why, Stewart, where have you been all day? What made you run away from this football? It has been such glorious play!"
"I'm glad you've enjoyed it. I've been with Collins and the rest to look for some ferns."
"To look for ferns! Why, Collins must know that ferns don't grow in Dinglewell Forest; at least, I never saw any," said Chandos.
"I don't think they do, for we couldn't find them either, and so we came back."
"Well, you'll join the game now, won't you? Come on, we'll make room for you."
"No, I don't care about it to-day," I said, for I began to feel a kind of dizziness in my head. I had felt sick for the last hour, but this pain in my head was something quite new, and I began to fear I should be ill. Certainly I had no inclination to join in the mêlée over the ball, and only wanted to be left alone.
The miserable day came to an end at last, and I was glad enough to go home and go to bed, and I fancy Tom and one or two of the others felt as bad as I did, although nobody complained or even owned to having a headache, for fear Swain should suspect us when he heard of the robbery. Robbery! what an ugly word that is! But of course it isn't as though we really stole things; we only took the pies for fun, which is different from common stealing, only we missed the fun altogether this time.
We expected to hear all about the affair when we came home—that the cook had gone into hysterics and the governor fainted, or something like that; but we did not hear a single word, and of course we couldn't ask.
Yesterday we did hear a little bit from the housemaid; but she didn't know who the governor suspected. She thought it was burglars, and of course we said it must be, and sent the whisper through the school that burglars had broken into the pantry.
One of the juniors was so frightened at the word "robbers," that he went and asked Swain if he thought they would come any more, or whether he had better write and ask his mamma to send for him.
"Who has been telling you this tale about burglars and robbers? It is nothing to be afraid of. Burglars such as you are thinking of don't come to steal pies and custards. We shall find out the thief or thieves very soon, I have no doubt."
I have been wondering ever since I heard this whether Swain suspects us after all, or whether he just said it to pacify the youngster. Not a word has been said about it by the governor, and so I am inclined to think we shall get off without any further punishment. It will only be fair after all, for if the governor knew how his precious pies spoiled all our holiday, and how miserable and sick they made us feel, he wouldn't want to serve us out any more by way of making us remember it. I'm not likely to forget or repeat it again, for a day like that is worse than the hardest grind at Euclid.