Part 12 (1/2)
”I'll get her,” cried Tom, struck with a new idea.
Off ran the fun-loving youth to the kitchen of the academy, where the matron was superintending the work of several of the hired girls.
”Oh, Mrs. Green, come quick!” he gasped, as he caught the lady by the arm.
”What is it, Tom?”
”It's poor Peleg! They say he's got a fit! He wants some soothing syrup, or something!”
”Well, I never!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mrs. Green. ”A fit! Poor man! Shall I ring for the doctor?”
”Perhaps you had better ring for two doctors, or else come and see if you can help him.”
”I'll do what I can,” answered the matron, and ran to get some medicine from a chest. ”I know what it is,” she added. ”It's indigestion. He ate four ears of green corn for dinner and four for supper,--and it was very green at that.”
”Then he will surely want Mrs. Green to help him,” murmured Tom.
Off hurried the matron with some medicine and Tom at her heels.
In the meantime the boys had marched poor Peleg close to the fire.
”Now, steady,” cried Sam. ”Don't let him fall into the flames and singe his hair.”
”Let us warm his feet for him,” cried a cadet. ”Take off his shoes and stockings!”
”Hi, don't you do nuthin' of the kind,” cried Peleg Snuggers, in new alarm. ”My feet are warm enough!”
But there was no help for it, and in a twinkling off came his shoes and his socks followed.
”I ain't a-goin' to have my feet warmed!” groaned the utility man. ”You are worse nor heathens! Lemme go!”
He struggled violently, but the cadets placed him on the gra.s.s and sat on him. Then one, who had run down to the ice-house for a piece of ice, came up.
”Here's a red-hot poker,” he said. ”Peleg, don't you want your initials branded on your feet?”
”No! no! Oh, help! somebody, help!” yelled the utility man.
”Be careful, or he may get a spasm,” whispered d.i.c.k, who was looking on without taking part.
”Oh, he's all right,” returned the cadet with the ice. ”Wait till I brand a P on one foot and an S on the other!” And he drew the ice across the sole of one foot as he spoke.
The poor utility man thought it was a red-hot poker and gave a yell which would have done credit to a South Sea savage. He squirmed and fought, and in the midst of the melee Mrs. Green and Tom arrived.
”There he is,” said Tom. ”He certainly must have a fit.”
”Poor Peleg!” cried Mrs. Green. ”Here, my dear, take this. It will do you good.” And she held out the bottle of medicine she had brought.
”Take about a big spoonful.”
”Hurrah, Mrs. Green to the rescue!” shouted Sam. ”Come, Peleg, don't be backward about coming forward.”
”What is this, Mrs. Green?” asked the astonished man-of-all-work, as he suddenly sat up.