rsement, and told himself it
would be enough, and that the sooner he was away from the dear old Den
the better.

At last all his preparations were made, even to placing his hat and a
favourite old stick given him by his uncle ready upon the chair which
held his bundle; and then, with his head throbbing worse than ever,
producing a feeling of confusion and unreality that was more than
painful, he went once more to the glass to look at his strangely-altered
features.

"I can't go like that," he said, shrinking back in horror. But like an
answer to his words came from far back in his brain, and as if in a
faint whisper: "You must now. You've gone too far. You must go now,
unless you're too great a coward."

"Yes," he muttered, confusedly; "I must go now--as soon as it's dark.
Not wanted here--Tom Bodger--he'll help me--to a ship."

He had sunk heavily into a chair, right back, with his head nodding
forward till his chin rested upon his breast, and the next moment he had
sunk into a feverish stupor, in which his head was swimming, and in some
unaccountable way he seemed to be once more heavily engaged with Big
Jem, whose fists kept up a regular pendulum-like beat upon his head,
while in spite of all his efforts he could never get one blow back in
return at the malicious, jeering, taunting face, whose lips moved as
they kept on saying words which nearly drove him wild with indignation.

And what were the words, repeated quite clearly now?

"Master Aleck, don't be so silly! Wake up, you're pretending to be
asleep. Oh, my! what a state your face is in! And your head's as hot
as fire."

CHAPTER SEVEN.

"That you, Jane?"

"Why, of course it is. Were you really asleep?"

"Asleep? No--yes. I don't know, Jane. My head's all gone queer, I
think."

"And no wonder, fighting like that, and never touching a bit of the
dinner I brought you up. Yes, your head's all in a fever, and your poor
swelled-up eyes too. That's better. Now, then, you must take this."

"What is it?" said the lad, drowsily.

"What is it? Why, can't you see?"

"No; my head's all swimming round and round, and my eyes won't open."

"Never mind, poor boy, this'll do you good. I've brought you up a big
breakfast-cup of nice, fresh, hot tea, and two rounds of buttered toast.
They'll do your head good."

"I say, Jane, where's uncle?"

"In his room. He's had some too. I didn't wait to be asked, but took
the tea in."

"What was he