This sunstroke, you
know, is what upset you, and your brain needs rest, the doctor
says."
"I'll have a talk with the old fellow next time he comes, and find
out just what I may do; then I shall know where I am. What a fool I
was that day to be stewing my brains and letting the sun glare on
my book till the letters danced before me! I see 'em now when I
shut my eyes; black balls bobbing round, and stars and all sorts of
queer things. Wonder if all blind people do?"
"Don't think about them; I'll go on reading, shall I? We shall come
to the exciting part soon, and then you'll forget all this," suggested
Rose.
"No, I never shall forget. Hang the old 'Revolution'! I don't want to
hear another word of it. My head aches, and I'm hot. Oh, wouldn't I
like to go for a pull in the 'Stormy Petrel!"' and poor Mac tossed
about as if he did not know what to do with himself.
"Let me sing, and perhaps you'll drop off; then the day will seem
shorter," said Rose, taking up a fan and sitting down beside him.
"Perhaps I shall; I didn't sleep much last night, and when I did I
dreamed like fun.
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