Then the remarks evaporated into nonsense, but only for a space, after which the nonsense solidified into sentences again.

“Don’t you think we ought to send for Chappy?”

“Wait and see if he’ll come round.  His colour’s returning.”

Doe was ascending from the bottom of his great well:  the voices were becoming distincter, a pain in his head and body worse.

“Yes, he’s less white.  Sprinkle water over his forehead.”

Doe was coming up and must have reached the top, for it was raining.  How silly!  That wasn’t rain, but the water being sprinkled over his forehead.  How hard the top of the well was!  But there—­he was nowhere near a well, but in the Prefects’ Room, lying on a deal table.  Or was he at the bottom of the sea?

“He’s looking better now.”

Up he came from the bottom of the ocean.  Above him he could see the surface, a broad expanse of pale green, through which the sun was trying to shine and succeeding better every second.  Though all the while conscious that his eyes were closed, he saw dancing on the green rippling veil, beneath which he lay, little spots of colour that grew in number till they became a dazzling kaleidoscope.

“Doe, are you all right now?”

The kaleidoscope was gone; and the top of the sea was above him, getting steadily closer and brighter.  Good—­he was above the surface now, and the water seemed out of his ears, so that he heard with perfect clearness the voice of Stanley saying: 

“That’s right—­you’re round again.”

Though his eyes were still shut he felt he must be awake, because the Prefects’ Room with its furniture had crowded his mental vision.  So he opened his eyes, and there, sure enough, were the prefects’ chairs and cupboards; they seemed, however, to have moved with a jump from the positions they had occupied in his mental picture.

If you wake and see faces looking down on you, the natural thing to do is to smile round upon them all; and this Doe did, so that his persecutors were touched, and Stanley said: 

“How are you feeling now, kid?  We’re all of us beastly sorry.”

“And I’m beastly sorry if I cheeked you.”

“Well, never mind about that; but tell us if you’re feeling putrid, because then we’ll tell old Dr. Chapman and make a clean breast of it.  My colleagues and I are determined to do the right thing.”

“Oh, I’m all right.  Don’t say anything to anyone.”

Ding-ding-ding!

“Are you fit for walking in to tea?” asked Stanley.

“Rather!  I’m quite the thing now.  Thanks awfully.”

So Doe, sustained by a pride in his determination to conceal what had happened and screen the prefects, walked with racking head and aching limbs into tea, where he made a show of eating and drinking, though periodically the room went spinning round him.