"Eh?"
The professor seemed to doubt if he had heard correctly, while Merriwell nearly exploded.
Rattleton looked frightened when he came to think what he had said. He felt like taking to his heels and running for his life.
"Chilblains, sir?" came severely from Professor Such. "Sir—sir, do not attempt to be facetious with me! You will regret it if you do!"
Cold sweat started out on Harry's forehead, and he looked appealingly toward his companion; but Frank had turned away to conceal his merriment.
"I—I don't think I—I understood your—your question," stammered Harry. "I'm a little heard of haring—I mean hard of hearing."
"I asked you what was the matter with your face, sir."
"Oh, my face! Ha! ha! He! he! I thought you said something about my pace, because I was walking so slowly. That made me fancy you were interested to know what ails my feet. Excuse me! I beg your pardon, professor!"
"Hum!" coughed the professor, again scratching his chin with the tip of his finger, while he peered through his spectacles, plainly still somewhat suspicious. "It is rather remarkable that you should get things mixed in such a manner."
"I am not feeling well, professor, not at all."