But in the morning he felt quite differently about it. The sun was shining in at the window and a beam was dancing on Stanley’s nose with interesting and amusing effect. Kid was surprised to find that he could smile. But when he moved the smile fled. All was not well with him yet and it was only by keeping still that he could be comfortable. When, finally, Stanley stopped snoring, tossed back and forth a few times and awoke with a start, Kid closed his eyes and simulated slumber. He wished to avoid conversation. Stanley tiptoed over and looked at him anxiously, appeared satisfied, dressed and stole out as quietly as possible. Then Kid, luxuriating in the privilege of staying in bed through morning prayers in spite of his discomfort, set his mind at work. By noon, he decided, he would be well enough to get up. The New York mail would arrive at ten or thereabouts. As long as he remained ill the Doctor wouldn’t say anything to him. Neither would the fellows. If he could stave off the evil hour until dinner time all might be well, for as soon as everyone was in the dining-room he would unostentatiously depart. He was firmly convinced that as soon as the fellows found out that his family had not met with financial reverses they would demand their money back and make it very unpleasant for him. Of course, he had not absolutely told them that his father had gone into bankruptcy; they had jumped to that conclusion themselves; but he felt that they would be incapable of calm reasoning. No, the best place for him was away.
Just where he would go he had not decided. He had always entertained a secret desire to be a sailor and it was perhaps possible that the moment to satisfy that desire was at hand. But the first thing was to get quietly away from school. At the cost of much uneasiness around the pit of his stomach and many groans, he managed to reach out and drag his trousers to him. The subsequent search of the pockets was disappointing. Only a dollar and twelve cents remained of his fortune. But a dollar was a lot of money if used carefully, and it would stand between him and poverty for at least two days. By that time—well, he might be a cabin boy on a merchantman! Kid’s spirits rose. Life which last evening had seemed full of gloom and sorrow began to be tinged with the roseate hues of adventure.
The scraping of chairs in the dining-room below indicated that breakfast had begun. Kid wondered disgustedly how fellows could be such slaves to their stomachs. Kid didn’t want to eat a bit! And when, half an hour later, Mrs. Merton came with a bowl of thin gruel and milk, Kid viewed it distastefully and turned away his head. But of course he ate it finally—or some of it; fellows always did as Mother asked sooner or later. She fussed with his pillow, smoothed his bed clothes, laid a firm, cool hand on his forehead, gave him his medicine, replenished the water glass and informed him that he was to remain in bed all day. Kid said “Yes’m” very meekly and looked as much like an innocent cherub as he could; and with his round face, china-blue eyes and yellow-brown hair Kid’s impersonation of a cherub wasn’t at all bad. Mrs. Merton said very kindly that she would be up to see him again after a while and went off, bearing the remains of the gruel. Just before school time Stanley stole noiselessly in, so noiselessly, in fact, that Kid didn’t have time to make believe he was asleep. But Stanley asked no embarrassing questions and did not demand the return of his quarter. He asked in bated breath how Kid was and Kid told him in a weak, enfeebled voice that he was much better, thanks. Then Stanley produced a book.
“Nan sent this to you,” he explained in his best sick-room manner. “There’s a note in it somewhere, unless I dropped it out.”
“Thanks.” Kid listlessly satisfied himself that the note was still there, and dropped the volume from a nerveless hand. Stanley declared he was awfully sorry and hoped Kid would be better soon. Kid thanked him again in tones that promised scant hope of recovery and Stanley embarrassedly backed out of the room. Kid could almost hear his sigh of relief as the door closed behind him.
Kid turned his attention to Nan’s note. It was folded in the proper cocked-hat shape and bore the inscription, “James Fairchild, Esq., Kindness of Bearer.” Kid unfolded it with difficulty and read the contents.
Oh, Kid [she had written], how could you be so silly and wrong? You have disappointed us terribly just when we thought you so noble and courageous. But I should not admonish you now that you are in dire tribulation. Please get well and all will be speedily forgiven and forgotten. I send you a book to read. It is a dandy one. I have read it three times. I hope you will enjoy it as much as I have. Perhaps mama will allow me to go up and see you this afternoon. I am so sorry you are ill, Kid, and no matter what anyone says I shall continue to believe that you are more sinned against than sinning.
Always your friend,
Nan Merton.
P. S. Some of the boys say that you cheated them out of the money, but I know that it was a mistake and that you will make restitution.