id Mrs. Puttick, staring
anxiously at Scaife. "He looks very bad."

"Yes, please do, Mrs. Puttick."

She bustled away.

"Now we _must_ bring him to," said the Fifth Form.

Everything was tried, even to the expedient of flicking Scaife's body
with a wet towel; but the body lay motionless, his face horribly red
against the white pillow, his heavy breathing growing more laboured and
louder. And despite the perfume of the eau de Cologne which had drenched
pillow and pyjamas, the smell of whisky spread terror to the crowd. If
Rutford came in, he would swoop on the truth.

"We'll souse the brandy all over him," said the Caterpillar; "and then
no one can guess."

"How about burnt feathers?" suggested Lovell. He had seen a fainting
housemaid treated with this family restorative.

Mrs. Puttick appeared with the brandy, which Lovell administered
externally. Still, Scaife remained unconscious. Then a pillow was ripped
open, and enough feathers burned to restore--as the Caterpillar put it
afterwards--a ruined cathedral. The stench filled the passage and
brought to No. 15 a chattering crowd of Lower Boys. And then the
conviction seized everybody that Scaife was going to die.

"Make way, make way, please!"

It was Rutford, who, followed by Lawrence, strode down the passage into
No. 15, and up to the bed.

"If you please, sir," said Lovell, "Scaife has had a fit."

"It looks like a fit," said Rutford, gravely. "I have telephoned for the
doctor. You've tried," he sniffed the air, "all the wrong remedies, of
course. Feathers--phaugh!--perfume--brandy! The boy must be propped up
and the blood drawn from his head by applying hot water to his feet."

The Fifth exchanged glances. Why had this not occurred to them? What a
fool Mrs. Puttick was!

"A rush of blood to the head!" Rutford liked to hold forth, and he had
been told that he was a capital after-dinner speaker. He had just risen
from an excellent dinner; he was not much alarmed; and his audience
listened with flattering attention. Scaife was lifted into a chair; ice
was applied to his head; his feet were thrust into a "tosh" filled with
steaming water.

"Note the effect," said Rutford. Already a slight change might be
perceived; the breathing became easier, the face less red. Rutford
continued in his best manner: "Mark the _vis medicatrix naturae_. Nature,
assisted by hot water, gently accomplishes her task. Very simple, and
not one of you had the wit to think of a r