"Aren't all days cleaning-days to you, Sue?" asked the judge, playfully.
"When you are in the house," she answered sharply. Then she turned to the doctor, who was starting up the stairs:
"If this boy is in for a long spell, I want him moved somewhere. I can't have my carpets run over and my whole house smelling like a hospital."
"Now, Susan," remonstrated the judge, gently, "we can't turn the lad out. We've
got room and to spare. If he's got the fever, he'll have to stay."
"We'll see, we'll see," said the doctor.
But when he tiptoed down from the room above there was no question about it.
"Very sick boy," he said, rubbing his hand over his bald head. "If he gets better, I might take him over to Mrs. Meech's; he can't be moved now."
"Mrs. Meech!" cried Mrs. Hollis, in fine scorn. "Do you think I would let him go to that dirty house and with this fever, too? Why, Mrs. Meech's front curtains haven't been washed since Christmas! She and the preacher and Martha all sit around with their noses in books, and never even know that the water-spout is leaking and the porch needs mopping! You can't tell me anything about the Meeches!"
Neither of the men tried to do so; they stood silent in the doorway, looking very grave.