By that time he was desperate; what sort of a game could he play if he did n’t sleep? It was n’t only that he would be tired out physically; suppose he mixed or forgot the signals; there were so many of them. He began running through them in his mind; and while he was doing that the chapel clock struck two. “Oh dear!” he sighed. He rolled over, stretched himself out on his face,—and when he awoke the light was streaming in over his alcove curtains.
At the breakfast table Blanchard said to him, “You’re looking pretty fit. Have a good night?”
Edward thought that so long as he looked well he would not give Blanchard anything to worry about.
It was n’t easy to study that morning; however, in class the masters were all good-natured and helped him when he stumbled. He felt that on the part of every one, masters and boys, there was to-day a wish to make things especially comfortable for him; there was a