Bright, frank, and full of fun, though rather quick-tempered and imperious, his friends had bowed before him, both for his skill in all the field games so dear to boyish hearts, and for the ease with which he kept at the head of his classes in school. Equally devoted to his base-ball bat and his books, petted by his teacher, and adored by his boy friends, Fred was in a fair way to become spoiled and headstrong. Just at this time a prize was offered to his class for the best set of examinations, and Fred worked early and late over his lessons, that the prize might be his. It was a proud and happy moment for him when, after the teacher had announced that the prize was awarded to Frederic Hunter Allen, for general excellence in his studies, a boy voice called out: “Three cheers for Fred Allen,” and the cheers were given with a will.
But the boy had overstudied, and within a week or two signs of intense nervousness showed themselves, and soon settled into a severe case of chorea, or, as the cook called it, “Saint Vitus’s twitches.” For three months the boy was very ill, seeing no one but his
