Martin nodded weakly but gratefully, and Willard went off to the lavatory and presently returned with a tooth-mug filled with scalding-hot water. As it was then time for a nine o’clock recitation, he had to leave Martin sipping and shuddering. When he next saw him, shortly before dinner, he was much better physically but in poor mental condition. His disposition was utterly vile. He put his tongue out and wagged it accusingly at Willard. “I burned my tongue,” he said. “That water was too blamed hot!” “Too bad,” replied Willard soothingly. “It made you feel better, though, didn’t it?” “What if it did? What’s the good of feeling better if your tongue is all scalded?” Martin demanded huffily. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “Tell you what?” asked Willard indignantly. “Not to burn your tongue, you simp?” “Tell me it was so hot! How’d I know?” “I thought maybe you could tell by the feel of it,” answered Willard dryly. “Most folks can!” “Funny, aren’t you?” Martin turned disgruntedly to the window, and after a moment Willard asked: “Did you get to any classes?” “Math,” grunted the other. “I was too sick for the rest of them. What time is it?” “Nearly half-past. Coming along?” “I don’t believe I want any dinner. What’s the use? It’ll just taste of--of those things!” “Onions?” asked Willard innocently. “Shut up! Don’t speak of ’em!” yelled Martin. “Now you’ve made me all squirmy again!” He sank to the window-seat, placed anxious hands on his waistcoat and glared at Willard accusingly. “I was feeling all right, too!” “Well, how did I know you didn’t want me to say--” “Cut it out, I tell you!” “I wasn’t going to say on--” “You’re saying it!” shrieked Martin. “I hope you get it, too! When you do, I’ll say ‘onions’ to you! You see if I don’t!” “You just said it yourself,” said Willard, grinning. “That’s different.” Martin glared ferociously. “You’re just trying to make me sick again!” “Oh, be good,” answered the other humoringly. “Tell you what I’ll do, Mart. I’ll go over to the drug store and get you some soda-mints right after dinner.” Martin looked slightly mollified for an instant. Then he asked suspiciously: “Do they taste awful?” “N--no, not very. Come along to dinner. You’d better try to eat something, even if you don’t feel hungry.” “Well, all right, but I know I can’t eat.” CHAPTER XV MARTIN CALLS QUITS