Dr. Scannell has not yet found out about my exams. As I was playing hurley to-day, Morris, who is a terribly swift shooter, whizzed the ball into my rib. Strange to say, I bent down, and my legs broke the force of the ball, and yet I got a terrible pain in my back, though I was hit in the stomach. It got better during class. As I was playing piano, Margaret was cleaning the dining-room windows when the topmost part of one came crashing down like the guillotine-knife. It caught her hand badly, so that she couldn’t extricate it, and hearing her screaming I dashed over and tried to raise it but couldn’t. Called in a milk-boy, but he failed too. So then thought of getting outside by a narrow ledge, and so I lifted it. Poor Madge’s hand was badly bruised, but we bathed and bandaged it, and it is much better. My pain got worse too, and I was like an old man of 90 after tea, almost bent double. I don’t know what it is. Sent Madge to Arthur’s to say I can’t come with them to Muskerry to-morrow.
