Mrs. Arden sat by the open window in her parlour, doing some fancy work. Suddenly the door opened, and her nephew entered. His face was flushed, and he still wore the "blazer" and flannels in which he had gone to cricket.
"You're back early," said his aunt.
The boy made no reply. He sat down on a chair, and a moment later buried his face in his hands.
Mrs. Arden had thought he looked queer.
"What's the matter?" she asked, laying down her work. "Have you been hurt?"
The "Weasel" shook his head, and gave vent to what sounded like a stifled sob.
"It's this hot sun, I expect," said his aunt. "I daresay you've been running about in it without your cap."
And hurrying out of the room, she returned a moment later with some cold water.
"Now," she said, kneeling down by the boy's side, "tell me what's the matter. Are you feeling giddy or faint?"
