I couldn't help saying that, and I meant it too.
May 5th.—Something has happened that I never thought did happen anywhere except in books. Chandos, that so many of the boys have looked down upon as being poor and beneath them, because he never seemed to have any pocket money to spend, like the rest of us, has suddenly become a baronet—Sir Eustace Chandos, of Chandos Court, and I don't know how many other places besides. It came upon us like a thunderbolt, for Chandos never told us his uncle was a baronet, or that he had any relatives but the merchant uncle. He did tell me a few weeks ago that he had just heard of the sudden death of his two cousins, but he did not say any more, except that he had not seen them above twice in his life. I suppose he may have thought it would make no great difference to him, as his uncle was not a very old man; but now his uncle has just died too, and our Miss Chandos becomes Sir Eustace. Well, I only wish his uncle had put off dying a little bit longer—just till I felt more settled about things; but now I feel sure I shall run away to sea if the mother don't come round and give her consent.
May 12th.—Bravo! Sir Eustace is not going to leave us just yet. It seems his brother Frank is just coming back, and he prefers to stay another year, and then he will go to college, I suppose. It don't seem to have made a bit of difference in him either. I thought perhaps he might like to drop our friendship now he was so rich and I still poor Charley Stewart, but he seemed hurt at the bare suggestion, and so I am to call him Chandos as usual, and we shall share the room just the same as though nothing had happened. I have thought a good deal about this the last two days. I know a good many fellows would have packed up their traps and gone off at once, or else held their heads so high that a poor chap like me would never be able to speak to them; and I've been wondering whether it's Chandos having learned so many things about God that makes him different in this. I've thought, too, that perhaps after all, as Chandos is just as willing to be my friend now he is Sir Eustace, that God may be my friend, as he said, though I can hardly get used to the thought yet.
May 20th.—There has been a tremendous row over the prize essay by which Tom won the watch last Christmas. After all this time, when everybody thought it was forgotten—though a good many of us did wonder then how Tom managed it—now it is found out that it was all made up of cribs, some taken from books, and some from notes that one of the older fellows lost. Somebody must have turned rat, Tom says. He is in an awful rage at having to give up the watch, but the governor insisted; and now Tom is as dull and looks as miserable as he can be, for the school has sent him to Coventry over it, which is very mean, I think, seeing they upheld him last winter, when a good many at least knew he had no right to try for this prize. He must wish he had let Chandos take his chance now, I should think. I cannot help pitying him, and Chandos and I have agreed not to join the school this time, though the other fellows threaten us with Coventry for speaking to Tom as we do.
The sea fever, as Chandos calls it, has suddenly seized Tom again, and he is always talking about it, as though we were both sure of going. I wish we were; but Tom's father says he has no real liking for it, and therefore won't let him go, and my mother is afraid. Oh dear! if mother would only give her consent! but she never will, I am afraid, and there will be nothing for it but to run away. Tom says we had better make up our minds to go from here before next Christmas. If it wasn't for the talks I've had with Chandos I'd do it; but I think I must give the mother one more chance, and see if I can't persuade her in the holidays to let me go. I wish I could think of something to please her very much; I'd do anything to get her consent to my going to sea.
June 4th.—I've been talking to Chandos. He says I have got the sea fever very bad this time, and he is afraid some of the other boys will catch the infection. I know what he means. He is afraid his brother may learn to like the sea from hearing so much about it from Tom, for the two are always together now. But I don't think he need to be afraid, Frank would never do for the sea, I am sure. He has persuaded me not to tease my mother too much about these plans of mine these holidays, but to go in for lots of grind next half, and get a prize at Christmas, and then, perhaps, when she sees I have really been industrious with my lessons, and yet love the sea as dearly as ever, she will be more likely to yield.
The plan may be a good one—I think it is, but it's precious hard. Grind is not quite such a trouble as it was at first, but still it's bad enough; and what with no cribs, and the extra I shall have to do if I am to have a chance of taking a prize, it is just enough to turn my brain. I scratch my head and pull a long face every time I think of it, but still I think I will try it, hard as it is.
June 12th.—Mrs. Chandos has sent a very pressing invitation for mamma and me to pay them a visit at Chandos Court, and of course Sir Eustace is quite eager that I should accept it. Not that he wants to show off his grandeur, I could never believe that of Chandos.