August.—We are back at school once more, and I am going to begin grinding in real earnest for this prize. The mater has half consented, or at least half promised, to give her consent if I get this prize. Mrs. Chandos talked her into this, I fancy, while we were staying at the Court. What a jolly time we had there, in spite of its being awfully grand! Everybody calls Chandos the "young baronet" about there, and people touch their caps to him as though he were a great swell, as I suppose he is. I never thought there was so much fun in him as I know there is now. He seems to love fun as much as any of us, only he is very careful that his pleasure does not give any one else pain, which makes all the difference in our way of getting fun; and I fancy his enjoyment of it is deeper after all.
September 1st.—There is to be an extra prize given for Latin this year, and the examination is to take place early in December. Chandos wants me to go in for this, but I am half afraid. It will want such lots of grind. He says learning would not be so much trouble to me if I would only make up my mind to like it; but I don't think I shall ever do this. But still I must get one prize at Christmas somehow; and having done my lessons so long on the square, without even touching a crib, I think I may manage it without quite killing myself.
September 14th.—I wish prizes had never been invented—never been thought of. I believe it's done just to plague boys. Here we are working like galley slaves; and if I don't go on grind, grind, Chandos whispers, "You forget the prize—you are going to sea." No, I don't forget it; I have been thinking of it more than ever lately, and so has Tom. He means to run away and get to Liverpool before the winter sets in, and of course he wants me to go with him, and calls me "rat" and "coward" because I will not promise. Of course I don't mean to split on him, for I can't help wishing I could go too; but somehow, now that it seems possible I may get my mother's consent to go in a proper manner—go as a midshipman in the Navy—I would rather wait, although I do hate the grind.
Chandos says I shall have to grind harder still if I go to the Naval College at Greenwich; but I won't mind that so much, for the grind will be about ships and navigation, and not the stupid things we have to learn here.
October 12th.—Tom means to go. Everything is so miserable here, he says. The fellows have been rather hard upon him, I think, considering they all backed him up to keep Chandos out of trying for the watch last year. Well, he don't want a watch now, but he's going in for as much grind as though he did, or as though he was still poor, and going to mount his uncle's office stool, instead of living in all the glory of Chandos Court. But I began about Tom. He means to be missing some fine morning, and to make his way to Liverpool. He thinks he shall be sure to get a ship there, and is to write to me and his father just before he sails. He don't mean to write to the governor at all, because he was so mean about the watch. We always talked about selling that to pay our expenses on the road, for of course Tom don't want to beg; and to save him from this I have given him all the pocket-money I had left, which was only half-a-crown and twopence, for I never can keep money long, now that old woman with the bulls'-eyes comes to the playground gate so often. Poor Tom! I wish I had more I could give him, for things have been pretty hard for him here lately, though I dare say he deserved it for the mean trick he served Chandos. What a scare it will be when they first find out that Tom has gone! I shall have to keep quiet, though—hear, see, and say nothing, as they tell the youngsters, for I cannot pretend to be anxious when I know all about it, and I don't mean to split on Tom. Sometimes I fancy that Chandos minor is in the secret. Tom is stupid if he lets too many know what he is up to. I should have kept my own counsel, and not let Chandos know this.
October 14th.—The house is all in commotion. Nothing has gone on in its proper order, and everybody seems to be wondering what will happen next. Tom has gone—run away to sea, as the boys are whispering to each other; but that is not the worst. I knew he meant going when he said "Good night" to me last night, and so I risked the imposition I might get, and stayed in my room this morning until Chandos came rushing in, looking white and scared.
"Is Frank here, Stewart?" he said.
"Frank?—no, I haven't seen him," I said.
"Then he's gone—gone with Haslitt," he said, dropping into a chair. "Did you know anything about this, Stewart?" he asked.
"I knew that Tom meant to go some time. I've told you the same."
"But about Frank—what have you heard about him? Tell me instantly, Stewart. Think of my poor mother."
"I don't believe your brother has gone with Tom. He isn't such a muff as to do that."
"You forget the sea fever that we used to tease him about in the holidays."
"Yes, I know we teased him, but nobody could ever think Frank would be fit for sea. Tom didn't, I know."
"But he's taken him—they're gone away together, I'm certain."
"Oh, nonsense, Chandos. Look here, now, you mustn't split on Tom, or say a word to the governor that I know anything about it; but I've talked to Tom lots of times about this, but he never said a word about anybody else going with him. He wanted me to go, of course, but, failing me, he should have to go alone, he said."
"But where can Frank be? Nobody has seen him this morning, and most of his clothes and all his money have gone—I have been to look."
"Well, if I thought—" and then I stopped. "Look here, I can't split on Tom unless I am quite sure that young muff has really gone. Don't tell what I have said, Chandos; but if they are together, Tom is the greatest stupid I ever heard of, for he might be sure I should tell all I knew then, and I will too. Fancy that poor little muff Frank handling tarred ropes—he'd want to put his gloves on first!" and I burst out laughing at the thought of Chandos minor going to sea. Chandos Court would do for him nicely, but on board a ship he would be in misery.
Chandos left me laughing, but soon came back.
"Stewart, you must go to the governor and tell him all you know about this affair. There is no time to be lost, you see, for somebody must go after them. A carriage has been ordered, and Swain is to go with a policeman; but if they find out before starting which road they have probably taken, perhaps it may save hours, perhaps days, of delay."
"Well, I know Tom meant to go to Liverpool; he told me so over and over again."
"Well, come and tell the Doctor before he sends off the telegram to Haslitt's father."
"Is he going to send to your mother too?" I asked.
"Not just yet. I want to spare my mother this anxiety if I can. It was for this—to look after Frank a little longer, because he is inclined to get into mischief, that I decided to stay here for the rest of the year, but it seems I am of little use in preventing the mischief. But come now, Stewart, every moment is precious."
So we tore off to the Doctor's study, where he was closeted with a policeman.
"If you please, sir, Stewart has come to tell you something about Haslitt," said Chandos, pushing me forward.
"I don't know much, sir, only he said he was going to Liverpool. I shouldn't have split about it only for little Chandos, and he—"
"When did he tell you this, Stewart? You came to school together, I remember."
&quo............