"Nat Poole has been poisoned!" cried several.
"Poisoned!" ejaculated the master of the Hall. "How is this, Poole?" and he strode to the suffering pupil's side.
"I—I don't know," groaned Nat. "I—er—ate some mince pie and some salad——"
"Perhaps it is only indigestion," was the doctor's comment. "You may get over it in a little while."
"But my throat——" And then the dudish boy stopped short. The fire in his mouth and throat had suddenly gone down—like a tooth stopping its aching.
"What were you going to say?" asked Doctor Clay.
"Why, I—that is—my throat isn't so bad now." And Nat's face took on a sudden sheepish look. In some way he realized he had been more scared than hurt.
"Let me have a look at your throat," went on the master of the Hall and took his pupil to a strong light. "It is a little red, but that is all. Is your stomach all right?"
"It seems to be—and the pain in my throat and mouth is all gone now," added Nat.
The doctor handed him a glass of water a boy had brought and Nat tried it. The liquid tasted natural, much to his surprise, and the drink made him feel quite like himself once more.