“Never mind, Kostylkov. Don’t worry. You’re probably overtired. Come back when you’ve had a good rest. All right?”

“All right,” Volka said. “But upon my word of honour, Varvara Stepanovna, it’s not my fault! It isn’t really!”

“Why, I’m not blaming you at all,” the teacher answered kindly. “I’ll tell you what: let’s drop in on Pyotr Ivanych.”

Pyotr Ivanych, the school doctor, examined Volka for all of ten minutes. He made him close his eyes and hold his arms out before him with his fingers spread apart; then he tapped his knee and drew lines on his chest and back with his stethoscope.

By then Volka came to himself. His cheeks turned pink again and his spirits rose.

“The boy’s perfectly well,” said Pyotr Ivanych. “And if you want my opinion, he’s an unusually healthy child! I think he was probably overworked. He must have studied too much before his exams, because there’s nothing wrong with him. And that’s all there is to it!”

Just in case, though, he measured some drops into a glass, and the unusually healthy child was forced to drink the medicine.

Suddenly, Volka had an idea. What if he could profit from Hottabych’s absence and take his geography examination right there, in the doctor’s office?

“By no means!” Pyotr Ivanych said emphatically. “By no means. Let the child have a few days of rest. Geography can wait.”

“That’s quite true,” the teacher sighed with relief, pleased that .everything had turned out so well in the end. “And you, my young friend, run along home and have a good rest. When you feel better, come back and take your exam. I’m positive you’ll get an ‘A.’ What do you think, Pyotr Ivanych?”

“Such a Hercules as he? Why, he’ll never get less than an ‘A’+!”

“Ah … and don’t you think someone had better see him home?” Varvara Stepanovna added.