"I suppose you mean to say you will get into some other mischief at the first opportunity?"
"Well, how am I to keep out of it?" I asked.
"What pleasure did you ever get by it? Now, I know you did not enjoy the holiday at Dinglewell as I did, and yet—"
"No, that I didn't," I said; "it was the most miserable day I ever spent, and I'll never rob a pantry any more, even for fun. I tell you, Chandos, I'd like to keep straight if I could, but how can I? I've tried, and tried hard, ever since that affair of poor Frank's. I've never touched a crib since, I give you my word, and you don't know how hard it is to leave off when once you've begun on that tack."
"I know it must be hard work, and I think you have done very well in resisting as you have the temptation to use cribs; but you might have done better, Stewart, if you were not so proud."
"Proud!" I said. "Nobody ever called me that before. Sailors are never proud, you know."
"Well, you are, or you would accept the help a Friend is waiting to give you if you were not."
"Now, Chandos, that isn't fair," I said. "I have always been willing to accept help and take advice from you."
"I wasn't speaking of myself, but of One who cares for you far more than I do, although I feel sorry enough when you go wrong, and get into scrapes, and make people miserable, as you often do through your thoughtlessness."
"I suppose you mean my mother? But I tell you, Chandos, she expects it—she knows boys can't keep out of mischief."