CHAPTER IV.
A PERPLEXING ILLNESS.
Mr.Sheldon's prophecy was fully realised.

Tom Halliday awoke the next day with a violent cold in his head.

Like most big boisterous men of herculean build, he was the veriest craven in the hour of physical ailment; so he succumbed at once to the malady which a man obliged to face the world and fight for his daily bread must needs have made light of.
The dentist rallied his invalid friend.
"Keep your bed, if you like, Tom," he said, "but there's no necessity for any such coddling.

As your hands are hot, and your tongue rather queer, I may as well give you a saline draught.

You'll be all right by dinner-time, and I'll get George to look round in the evening for a hand at cards." Tom obeyed his professional friend--took his medicine, read the paper, and slept away the best part of the dull March day.