"I'm glad of it. But that isn't a circumstance to what I'd like, to do to him if I could do it and get away with it.
"Well, how does it feel to be roasted?" questioned the grinning Ned
Rector, approaching them at this juncture.
"Who put up this job on me?" demanded Stacy angrily.
"Job? Why, it wasn't a job. You were a very sick man. Your case demanded instant treatment—-"
"Say, what was that meat we had for dinner, Tad?" asked Chunky suddenly.
"Deer meat."
"Oh, fiddle! Ned said it was cat meat and I—-I got sick. I'll get even with him for that."
"How do you feel?" asked the smiling Professor, coming up and slapping the fat boy on the shoulder.
"I—-I guess I'm well, but I don't believe I'll be able to sit down or lie down all the rest of the summer. No, don't ask me to put on my clothes. I can't wear them. My skin's all grown fast to my underwear. I'll have to wear these underclothes the rest of the season if I don't want to lose my skin. Oh, I'm in an awful fix."
"But you're well, so what's the odds?" laughed Tad.