England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Short stories, English
"I wonder the Doctor allows that football to be played!" she went on,
grumbling. "I wouldn't, if I kept a school; I know that. It is a
barbarous game, only fit for bears."
"I am all right," put in Hearn. "I needn't have come in, but for feeling
giddy."
But he was not quite right yet. For without the slightest warning,
before he had time to stir from where he stood, he became frightfully
sick. Hall ran for a basin and some warm water. Tod held his head.
"This is through having gobbled down your tea in such a mortal hurry,
to be off to that precious football," decided Hall, resentfully. "The
wonder is, that the whole crew of you are not sick, swallowing your food
at the rate you do."
"I think I'll lie on the bed for a bit," said Archie, when the sickness
had passed. "I shall be up again by supper-time."
They went with him to his room. Neither of them had the slightest notion
that he was seriously hurt, or that there could be any danger. Archie
took off his jacket, and lay down in his clothes. Mrs. Hall offered to
bring him up a cup of tea; but he said it might make him sick again, and
he'd rather be quiet. She went down, and Tod sat on the edge of the bed.
Archie shut his eyes, and kept still. Tod thought he was dropping off to
sleep, and began to creep out of the room. The eyes opened then, and
Archie called to him.
"Todhetley?"
"I am here, old fellow. What is it?"
"You'll tell him I forgive him," said Archie, speaking in an earnest
whisper. "Tell him I know he didn't think to hurt me."
"Oh, I'll tell him," answered Tod, lightly.
"And be sure give my dear love to mamma."
"So I will."
"And now I'll go to sleep, or I shan't be down to supper. You will come
and call me if I am not, won't you?"
"All right," said Tod, tucking the counterpane about him. "Are you
comfortable, Archie?"
"Quite. Thank you."
Tod came on to the field again, and joined the game. It was a little
less rough, and there were no more mishaps. We got home later than
usual, and supper stood on the table.
The suppers at Worcester House were always the same--bread and cheese.
And not too much of it. Half a round off the loaf, with a piece of
cheese, for each fellow; and a drop of beer or water. Our other meals
were good and abundant; but the Doctor waged war with heavy suppers. If
old Hall had had her way, we should have had none at all. Little Hearn
did not appear; and Tod went up to look after him. I followed.
Opening the door without noise, we stood listening and looking. Not that
there was much good in looking, for the room was in darkness.
"Archie," whispered Tod.
No answer. No sound.
"Are you asleep, old fellow?"
Not a word still. The dead might be there; for all the sound there was.
"He's asleep, for certain," said Tod, groping his way towards the bed.
"So much the better, poor little chap. I won't wake him."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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