A noticeable feature of the school work that day was the scarcity of pupils. All the classes were more or less sparsely attended, and the teachers were called to a conference with Mr. Preston, the principal.
“What do you suppose the powwow of the teachers was all about?” asked Bob, as the boys were going home after the session of the school was ended.
“About so many fellows being away,” replied Joe, who, as his father was the leading physician of the town, was better informed than were his friends as to the situation. “Dad says there’s an awful lot of sickness in the town. He’s kept busy day and night, and scarcely has time to breathe.”
“I wonder what the reason is,” remarked Herb.
“Dad thinks the water supply may have something to do with it,” answered Joe. “He says there’s a regular epidemic of typhoid fever, and that usually comes from impure water. He’s called the attention of the town council and the engineers of the reservoir to the matter, and they’re going to have an investigation. Dad says it may even be necessary to close the schools for a time.”
“What’s that?” exclaimed Jimmy, with sudden animation.
“Don’t tell Jimmy anything like that,” mocked Herb. “It would simply break his heart. If there’s anything he’s stuck on it’s school.”
“You fellows wouldn’t be tickled to death either if you thought you were going to get a vacation, would you?” retorted Jimmy. “I know you birds.”
“Say, wouldn’t it give us lots of time for radio!” said Bob enthusiastically. “I want to get all the new wrinkles in that latest set of ours, and we don’t have time to do it in the few evenings we can spare from our home work.”
“You bet,” agreed Herb. “I don’t want there to be any more sickness, but I sure do hope they find it necessary to close the schools. That would be just what the doctor ordered—in more senses than one.”