“Then, father darling, is your head better?”
“Yes, my dear, yes. Go downstairs and bring me up a tray full of food—toast and an egg and some tea. Bring them up with your own hands. See there isn’t a sound. If I have two or three hours of quiet I shall be quite fit to resume my work to-night. I have to lecture in Hall at nine o’clock this evening. I shall not be able to utter a word if this headache continues. Now, Rachel, be off; set to work and get me some food at once, as fast as ever you can.”
I was half-way downstairs when my father’s voice called after me:
“Do stop all that whispering and whistling and noise. I can’t imagine what is happening.”
“I will do what I can, father,” I said.
Part 1, Chapter II.
The Poached Egg.
I returned to the boys and to my school friends.