my eyes for a minute and opened them again, but
still I had the measles. The cup of happiness was at my lips, but
I sipped delicately because it was full to the brim, and I would
not spill a drop.

This mood did not last long. I had to run down the house and tell
the world the good news. The grown-up people rebuked my joyousness,
while admitting that it might be as well that I should have the
measles then as later on. In spite of their air of resignation I
could hardly sit still for excitement. I wanted to go into the
kitchen and show my measles to the servants, but I was told to stay
where I was in front of the fire while my bed was moved into my
brother's room. So I stared at the glowing coals till my eyes
smarted, and dreamed long dreams. I would be in bed for days, all
warm from head to foot, and no one would interrupt my pleasant
excursions in the world I preferred to this. If I had heard of the
beneficent microbe to which lowed my happiness, I would have
mentioned it in my prayers.

Late that night, I called over to my brother to ask how long measles
lasted. He told me to go to sleep, so that I knew he did not know the
answer to my question. I lay at ease tranquilly turning the problem
over in my mind. Four weeks, six weeks, eight weeks; why, if I was
lucky, it would carry me through to the holidays! At all events,
school was already very far away, like a nightmare remembered at
noon. I said good-night to my brother, and received an irritated
grunt in reply. I did not mind his surliness; tomorrow when I woke
up, I would begin my dreams.

II

When I found myself in bed in the morning, already sick at heart
because even while I slept I could not forget the long torment of my
life at school, I would lie still for a minute or two and try to
concentrate my shuddering mind on something pleasant, some little
detail of the moment that seemed to justify hope. Perhaps I had some
money to spend or a holiday to look forward to; though often enough I
would find nothing to save me from realising with childish intensity
the greyness of the world in which it was my fate to move. I did not
want to go out into life; it was dull and gruel and greasy with soot.
I only wanted to stop at home in any little quiet corner out of
everybody's way and think my long, heroic thoughts. But even while I
mumbled my hasty breakfast and ran to the station to catch my train
the atmosphere of the school was all