And it was absolutely necessary that he should attend chapel.

On their way to chapel Frank and Harry came face to face with Professor Such, who peered at them sharply and said: 

“Good-morning, gentlemen.”

“Good-morning, professor,” returned the boys.

Harry tried to keep behind Frank, so that his face would not be noticed.  The professor was nearsighted, but he immediately noted Rattleton’s queer actions, and he placed himself in front of the boys, adjusting his spectacles.

“Hang his curiosity!” muttered Harry in disgust.

“Eh?” said the professor, scratching his chin with one finger and peering keenly at Harry.  “Did you speak, sir?”

“Yes, sir—­I mean no, sir,” spluttered Harry, while Frank stepped aside and stood laughing silently to himself.

“I thought you did.  Er—­what’s the matter with your face, young man?”

“That’s the result of my last attack of chilblains,” said Harry, desperately.  “They hent to my wed—­I mean they went to my head.”

“Eh?”

The professor seemed to doubt if he had heard correctly, while Merriwell nearly exploded.

Rattleton looked frightened when he came to think what he had said.  He felt like taking to his heels and running for his life.

“Chilblains, sir?” came severely from Professor Such.  “Sir—­sir, do not attempt to be facetious with me!  You will regret it if you do!”

Cold sweat started out on Harry’s forehead, and he looked appealingly toward his companion; but Frank had turned away to conceal his merriment.

“I—­I don’t think I—­I understood your—­your question,” stammered Harry.  “I’m a little heard of haring—­I mean hard of hearing.”

“I asked you what was the matter with your face, sir.”

“Oh, my face!  Ha! ha!  He! he!  I thought you said something about my pace, because I was walking so slowly.  That made me fancy you were interested to know what ails my feet.  Excuse me!  I beg your pardon, professor!”

“Hum!” coughed the professor, again scratching his chin with the tip of his finger, while he peered through his spectacles, plainly still somewhat suspicious.  “It is rather remarkable that you should get things mixed in such a manner.”

“I am not feeling well, professor, not at all.”

And it was apparent to Frank that Harry told the truth.

“You are not looking well,” came somewhat sarcastically from Professor Such’s lips.  “Your countenance has a strangely mottled hue.”

“It comes from Injun jestion,” explained Merriwell, coming to his roommate’s relief.

“Eh?  From what, sir.”

“From indigestion,” said Frank, very soberly.  “He is much troubled that way.”

“Much troubled! much troubled!” exclaimed the professor, whose ear had been offended and who immediately turned his attention on Frank.  “I advise you to be somewhat more choice and careful of your language, young man.  There is a right and a wrong use of words.”