WHETHER owing to Danny Moore's tonic, the doctor's prescription or a good night's rest, Don awoke the next morning feeling perfectly well physically, and his first waking moments were cheered by the knowledge. Then, however, recollection of the fact that physical well-being was exactly what wasn't required under the circumstances brought quick reaction, and he jumped out of bed to look at himself in the mirror above his dresser in the hope of finding pale cheeks and hollow eyes and similar evidences of impending dissolution. But Fate had played a sorry trick on him! His cheeks were not in the least pale, nor were his eyes sunken. In short, he looked particularly healthy, and if other evidence of the fact was needed it was supplied by Tim. Tim, when Don turned regretfully away from the glass, was sitting up and observing him with pleased relief. "Ata boy!" exclaimed Tim. "Feeling fine and dandy, aren't you? I guess that medicine was cheap at the price, after all! You look about a hundred per cent better than you did yesterday, Donald." Don started to smile, caught himself in time and drew a long sigh. "You can't always tell by a fellow's looks how he's really feeling," he replied darkly. "Oh, run away and play! What's the matter with you? You've got colour in your face and look great." "Too much colour, I'm afraid," said Don, shaking his head pessimistically. "I guess--I guess I've got a little fever." Tim stared at him puzzledly. "Fever? What for? I mean---- Say, are you fooling?" "No. My face is sort of hot, honest, Tim." And so it was, possibly the consciousness of fibbing and the difficulty of doing it successfully was responsible for the flush. Tim pushed his legs out of bed and viewed his friend disgustedly. "Don, you're getting to be one of those kleptomaniacs--no, that isn't it! What's the word? Hydrochondriacs, isn't it? Anyway, whatever it is, you're it! You've got so you imagine you're sick when you aren't. Forget it, Donald, and cheer up!" "Oh, I'll be all right, thanks," responded the other dolefully. "I guess I'm lots better than I was." "Of course you are! Why, hang it, man, you've simply got to be O. K. today! If you're not Robey'll can you as sure as shooting! Smile for the gentleman, Don, and then get a move on and come to breakfast." "I don't think I want any breakfast, thanks." "You will when you smell it. Want me to start the water for you?" "If I was a hydrochondriac I wouldn't want any water, would I?" "Hypochondriac's what I meant, I guess. Hurry up before the mob gets there."