My recovery was far too rapid to please me. I never had such a jolly time in all my life. My mother was in and out all day; there were no lessons. I was allowed to summon any chum I liked to my bedside. I was receiving messages daily from masters and seniors, and, best of all, I had nothing the matter with me except, a strong disinclination to exert myself, and an occasional headache or dizziness when I sat up. I had come up to Low Heath that term with the honest determination to "lie low." I little expected, however, that I should find myself quite so literally adhering to my resolution. My one trouble was that all this time I had not seen Tempest. I did not like to send for him, in case he should not appreciate the compliment. And he, as I guessed, would not care to come of his own accord for the uncomfortable ceremony of receiving my thanks. My mother told me he had often asked about me; but when she asked him to come and see me he had replied,--"I'll see him as soon as he gets about again." When she inquired about his hand he had replied airily that it was all right, and he was only keeping it in the sling to get it right for the Sports. "But," said my mother, "I wish he would let the doctor see it, or give up running till it is well." "But," said I, "he's a chance of winning off Redwood." This argument, which in ninety-nine cases out of one hundred in Low Heath would have been absolutely conclusive, failed to impress my mother in the least. She attached no importance to "winning off Redwood" compared with a boy's health, and obdurately protested that if she were Tempest's mother she would not allow him to think of running. It was only my agitated appeals to her not to interpose that prevented her speaking to Dr England about the matter, and so knocking the race on the head altogether. I took it as a compliment to myself that the Sports had been put off a fortnight in consequence of the fire. That warm event had so upset everything and monopolised so much attention that Low Heath would not have come up to scratch at all on the day originally fixed. And whereas the new date permitted of my being present to assist--though, alas! not to compete--in the day's proceedings, I felt specially satisfied with the alteration. I had naturally heard a good deal of Philosophical gossip during my convalescence. On my last evening in hospital especially, there was quite a symposium. My mother, in an innocent moment, had remarked, "I should so like to have one or two of your friends to tea, sonny, before I go home. The doctor says it will not do you any harm--and we can have them in here, as you are the only invalid in hospital." "That'll be ten, with you and me," said I. "Do you want quite so many?" asked she, beginning to get a little concerned. "Must have the lot or none," said I decisively. "We can cut out Rackstraw and Walsh, if you like--they're paupers."