That gentleman, seeing something was amiss, went over, and laying one hand on the boy's shoulder, said kindly, "Are you ill, my lad?"
The sympathetic tone seemed to break the spell, and looking up, Jim answered, "My head aches a bit, sir, but it's getting better now. I think I can make a start."
"That's right, my boy. Time's flying; but you must do your best."
"Yes, sir," said Jim gratefully, and by a great effort he managed to concentrate his attention on the questions. Once started, he worked feverishly to make up for the lost half-hour; but at one o'clock he had to hand in his papers without having gone over them a second time.
Fortunately the interval was too short for comparing notes. There was scarcely time for more than a rush home, a hurried meal, and a run back to be ready for the opening of the doors.
At the gate Jim overtook Braithwaite, who, much to his surprise, said in quite a friendly way, "Done pretty well, Hartland?"
"Pretty well, thanks; how did you get on?"
"Prime! The questions were just made for me."
Just then the Angel came along.
"I say, Dandy," he cried, "how came you to be doing Euclid this morning?"