"I did four feet six, yesterday," she announced, "and I'd have cleared four feet seven, I believe, only I had to stop. It's always my luck!"
"Why had you to stop?"
Instant apprehension overspread the faces of her friends.
"Joyce Newton!" exclaimed Winona, "you're never going to get small-pox again, and stop the athletic display?"
"You don't feel sick, or head-achy, or sore-throaty, do you?" implored Bessie. "For goodness sake stand away, if you're infectious! I don't want to be another contact case!"
"What pigs you are!" said Joyce plaintively, "One can't catch small-pox twice!"
"But you might be going to get scarlet fever, or measles, or even influenza!"
"Stop ragging! Mayn't I have a back-ache if I want? It's my own back!"
"Have as many back-aches as you choose, my hearty, but don't disseminate germs! If the athletic display doesn't come off, I'll break my heart, and you can write an epitaph over me: