Дан текст и к нему задания Вот текст 1"What's the matter, Schatz?" 
"I've got a headache." 
"You better go back to bed." 
"No. I'm all right." 
But when I came downstairs he was dressed, sitting by the fire, looking a very sick and miserable boy of nine years. When I put my hand on his forehead I knew he had a fever. 
"You go to bed," I said, "you're sick." 
When the doctor came he took the boy's temperature. 
"What is it?" I asked him. 
"One hundred and two." 

2 Downstairs, the doctor left three different medicines in different colored capsules with instructions for giving them. One was to bring down the fever, another a purgative, the third to overcome an acid condition. The germs of influenza can only exist in an acid condition, he explained. He seemed to know all about influenza and said there was nothing to worry about if the fever did not go above one hundred and four degrees. This was a light epidemic of flu and there was no danger if you avoided pneumonia. 
Back in the room I wrote the boy's temperature down and made a note of the time to give the various capsules. 
"Do you want me to read to you?" 
''If you want to," said the boy. His face was very white and there were dark areas under his eyes. He lay still in the bed and seemed very detached from what was going on. 
I read aloud from Howard Pyle's Book of Pirates; but I could see he was not following what I was reading. 
"How do you feel, Schatz?" I asked him. 
"Just the same, so far," he said but he was looking at the foot of the bed, looking very strangely. 
"Why don't you try to go to sleep? I'll wake you up for the medicine." 
"I'd rather stay awake." 
After a while he said to me, "You don't have to stay in here with me, Papa, if it bothers you." 
"It doesn't bother me." 
"No, I mean you don't have to stay if it's going to bother you." 
I thought perhaps he was a little lightheaded and after giving him the prescribed capsules at eleven o'clock I went out for a while. 

3When I came back they said the boy had refused to let anyone into the room. 
"You can't come in," he said. "You mustn't get what I have." 
I went up to him and found him in exactly the position I had left him, white-faced, but with the tops of his cheeks flushed by the fever, staring still, as he had stared, at the foot of the bed. 
I took his temperature. 
"What is it?" 
"Something like a hundred," I said. It was one hundred and two and four tenths. 
"It was a hundred and two," he said. 
"Who said so?" 
"The doctor." 
"Your temperature is all right," I said. "It's nothing to worry about." 
"I don't worry," he said, "but I can't keep from thinking." 
"Don't think," I said. "Just take it easy." 
"I'm taking it easy," he said and looked straight-ahead. He was holding tight on to himself about something. 
I sat down and opened the Pirate Book. But I could see he was not following, so I stopped. 
"About what time do you think I'm going to die?" he asked. 
"You aren't going to die. What's the matter with you?"

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