"Now, look here, Will," said Foster quietly. "Don't get rattled. I know it's bad, but there isn't any use in losing your head over it. I've been down to see the dean and have talked it over with him."
"What did he have to say?"
"He said the report was true and the eight fellows were all down with the typhoid, and that every one of them had been taken to the infirmary."
"What else?" demanded Will, his excitement increasing in spite of his effort to be calm.
"That's what I'm trying to tell you, if you'll give me half a chance. He said the president had sent for the best experts in the country, and that everything that it was possible to do would be done. He said too, that they would deal absolutely squarely with the boys, and if it was discovered that there was the least danger of it spreading they would tell us, and if necessary they'd close for a while till the whole thing had been ferreted out."
"That's square."
"Of course it is."
"What are you going to do, Foster?"
"Nothing, that is, for a day or two anyway. I've told my father, and if he thinks I'd better come home he'll say so."
"But he may not know."