Scotty did not go back to school. His parents talked seriously and lengthily to their own doctor and to a specialist at the University Hospital -- Mr. McKinley was entitled to a discount for members of his family -- and it was decided it would be best for him to take the remainder of the term off, spend a lot of time in bed and, for the rest, do pretty much as he chose -- provided, of course, he chose to do nothing too exciting or too debilitating. His teacher and his school principal were conferred with and everyone agreed that, if he kept up with a certain amount of work at home, there was little danger of his losing a term.

Scotty accepted the decision with indifference and did not enter the arguments.

He was discharged from the hospital after a two day checkup and he and his parents had what Mr. McKinley described as a ``celebration lunch'' at the cafeteria on the campus. Rachel wore a smart hat and, because she had been warned recently about smoking, puffed at her cigarettes through a long ivory holder stained with lipstick. Scotty's father sat sprawled in his chair, angular, alert as a cricket, looking about at the huge stainless-steel appointments of the room with an expression of proprietorship.

Teachers -- men who wore brown suits and had gray hair and pleasant smiles -- came to their table to talk shop and to be introduced to Scotty and Rachel. Rachel was polite, Scotty indifferent. They ate the cafeteria food with its orange sauces and Scotty gazed without interest at his food, the teachers, the heroic baronial windows, and the bright ranks of college banners. His father tried to make the food a topic.