Part 6 (2/2)
”Yes, Mother?” With a doleful yawn.
”Is this the way you come straight home from school?”
He protested. There were some lessons to get from Miss Brown after, dismissal and that had delayed him. ”And I've been here ever so long.”
”Nonsense!” she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. ”Just look at the state of your clothing.
You've been playing football. Come into the house this instant!”
He obeyed meekly. The period of invalidism was over.
But to the hara.s.sed school doctor, it seemed on the following morning that John Fletcher's case was but the beginning of a long and startling outbreak of illness in the school.
Hardly had Miss Brown finished roll call before dark-haired Perry Alford, her brightest and most guileless scholar, waved his hand excitedly to attract attention. His eyes hurt terribly as teacher could see. Wouldn't it be well for him to go to the school physician? Miss Brown thought that it would.
Room Ten's door closed upon the prospective invalid. But a few moments pa.s.sed before towheaded, lethargic Olaf Johnson voiced his complaint.
”Please, ma'm, my throat, it feels funny here.” He placed a pudgy hand on each side of his jaw. ”And this morning when I get up, my head feels hot.”
He, too, was sent to see the school physician.
”Does your nose run?” asked the man of medicines when Perry finished the catalog of his ailments.
Perry sneezed and admitted that it did.
”Anything else wrong with you?”
”Not exactly, sir;” then with a sudden glibness, ”but I don't feel like doing much. Only loafing around--and my head feels queer.”
”Home,” ordered the doctor, emphatically. ”At least four days. Tell your mother you've a first-cla.s.s case of measles developing.”
As Perry made his exit, Olaf appeared.
”Another?” exclaimed the physician, as he exchanged a glance with the gray-haired princ.i.p.al. ”Well, what's the matter with you?”
Olaf elaborated upon the symptoms which he had described to Miss Brown.
The young medic was puzzled.
”There are aspects which are not quite consistent,” he said to the princ.i.p.al, ”but the soreness suggests mumps. Shall we send him home?”
”As you think best,” nodded Mr. Downer. Olaf went the way of the measles-smitten Perry.
The doctor was picking up his hat and medicine case to leave when the office door opened again. Two more boys appeared.
”Good heavens!” said he, as he sat down heavily. ”Is it an epidemic?”
The princ.i.p.al shrugged his shoulders in bewilderment.
”More mumps.” He beckoned to the larger of the two boys. ”Now it's your turn.”
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