It was a blow, when Blessington called him next morning, to be told that he was tired with the journey and must stop in bed for breakfast. That was a perfectly unfounded statement, but, like those others, had grumblingly to be accepted, though Archie knew quite well that he had never felt less tired. "You mayn't feel it, dear," said Blessington, "but you are." "I should think I ought to know best," said Archie. "No, I know best," said Blessington firmly. "And your mamma says so, too." Archie began to wonder they were not right. He did not feel tired, as he had told Blessington, but something inside him said that it did not want to run about, or even skate, but it was very well pleased that his body, well wrapped up, should sit up in bed, and bask in the sun which blazed in through the opened French window communicating with the big balcony outside his room. Then, after breakfast, there came in his mother with a big jovial man, whose name was Dr. Dobie. "I never saw such a lazy fellow," exclaimed this rather attractive person. "Fancy not being up yet!" "They wouldn't let me," said Archie. "Well, as soon as I've had a look at you, up you shall get," said the doctor. "But I can't wait till you're dressed. Now, undo your coat a minute." Once again the instrument with plugs was produced, and the ninety-nine game played. "That's capital," said the doctor, "and now in a minute I'll have done with you. Just put that into your mouth with the end under your tongue. There, like that." This was a very short process, and Dr. Dobie got up. "Now, my plan for you is this," he said. "You shall dress and lie out in the sun on your balcony. And, after you've had dinner, you shall go for a sleigh drive, and walk a little on your way back. Then balcony again, till it's dark." "But mayn't I skate?" asked Archie, who didn't really want to. "No, not just yet. We'll have you skating before long, but not at present. The more you do as you're told, the sooner you'll skate."