“I—I—what can I do? I s’pose I’ll have scarlet fever—”
“You can give the thing away and be sent home in disgrace. You’ll lose your watch and perhaps not get in another school. You can spoil Zay Crawford’s life for the present, just when it has reached the loveliest point of all—”
“And you?”
Louie stopped sobbing and studied her companion in wonder.
“I’m not going to have scarlet fever. Those children haven’t been sick a week. Scarlet fever is taken from the little flakes that peel off when the skin begins to dry up. We surely didn’t get any of those. We went right out in the fresh air and I breathed in a big supply, the room had been so close. Two of mother’s children had scarlet fever and she took care of them. None of the others had it. It’s half fright; just pull yourself together and don’t be an idiot and you’ll come through all right.”
“Oh, Phil! I wish I had your courage.”
“You have courage enough only you won’t use it. Just feel certain nothing is going to happen and you’ll come out all right. We’re going home so soon that for our sakes you might summon a little courage. If you go on this way Louie you’ll be—what is it they call hysterical people? Neurasthenics, I believe. I mean to have a jolly good time with plenty of lovers and dances and fun and get married. I’m not going to be a sighing, whimsical old maid, borrowing trouble.”
“Oh, dear!” and she fell to sobbing again.
“Now, Louie, let me give you some ammonia and you lie here on my bed while I finish this exercise. Get asleep if you can.”
“Oh, how good you are in real trouble, Phil.”