Once only did Yram treat me in a way that was unkind and unreasonable,--at
least so I thought it at the time. It happened thus. I had been playing
fives in the garden and got much heated. Although the day was cold, for
autumn was now advancing, and Cold Harbour (as the name of the town in
which my prison was should be translated) stood fully 3000 feet above the
sea, I had played without my coat and waistcoat, and took a sharp chill
on resting myself too long in the open air without protection. The next
day I had a severe cold and felt really poorly. Being little used even
to the lightest ailments, and thinking that it would be rather nice to be
petted and cossetted by Yram, I certainly did not make myself out to be
any better than I was; in fact, I remember that I made the worst of
things, and took it into my head to consider myself upon the sick list.
When Yram brought me my breakfast I complained somewhat dolefully of my
indisposition, expecting the sympathy and humouring which I should have
received from my mother and sisters at home. Not a bit of it. She fired
up in an instant, and asked me what I meant by it, and how I dared to
presume to mention such a thing, especially when I considered in what
place I was.
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