The morning lessons were to continue as usual, but those for the after part of the day were to be dispensed with.
The matron did the boys' packing, so that there were no especial calls upon their time before leaving.
"Henderson, are you ill?" asked Dr. Leacraft, coming into the junior class-room about eleven o'clock, and noticing that Charlie Henderson, the youngest boy in the school and a pattern scholar, was deathly pale, and supporting his head upon his hand. The boy was subject to frightful headaches, which for the time unfitted him for all study or recitation; and Seabrooke, who was hearing the lesson in progress, had excused him from taking any part in it. These headaches were of few hours duration; but the boy needed absolute rest and quiet to enable him to conquer them.
As he lifted his heavy, suffering eyes to the doctor's face,
Seabrooke answered for him.
"Yes, sir, he has one of his headaches, and is afraid he will not be able to go this afternoon. I have excused him from recitation, and was going to ask if he may go to his room. He is not fit to be here."
"Certainly. Go at once, my child," said the doctor, laying his hand kindly on the boy's throbbing head. "You must have a sleep, and ease this poor head before afternoon. You will feel better by train time."
Charlie rose with a murmured word of thanks, every step and movement adding a fresh pang to his pain, and went slowly from the room and up to the dormitory devoted to the younger boys.
But there seemed small prospect of quiet here. The matron and three housemaids were in the room, half a dozen trunks were standing here and there, bureau drawers and closets were standing open, and a general appearance of disorder attendant upon the packing for half-a-dozen boys reigned throughout the apartment.
Charlie gave a little groan of despair as he stood at the open door and looked in.
"Oh, Master Henderson, my dear!" ejaculated the matron, as she caught sight of the pale, suffering young face, "you've never gone and got one of your headaches to-day of all days. Such a hubbub as there is here. You can't come in, my dear; you'll never get rest for your poor head. Come to the other dormitory; we're all done there, and it's as quiet as a nunnery, and one can get to sleep, and sleep you must have if you are going home this afternoon. Come now; you have five hours to get rid of that good-for-nothing headache."