Richard De Jarnette was leaning on the mantel. He did not change his position.
"Go on," he said, briefly.
The doctor gave a slight shrug and turned his back upon him.
"My child," he said very gently, "I want to talk with you about the nature of this disease. We are not so much afraid of scarletina, or scarlet fever as you call it, as we used to be. We know better how to manage it."
"Yes," murmured Margaret, not knowing to what all this tended, "he really seems to be recovering more quickly than I had even hoped—but—"
"Ye—es, ye—es," continued the doctor, making carefully spaced lines on a scrap of paper and avoiding her eye. "You see it is not the disease that we are most afraid of—that is generally easy enough—it yields to treatment—but—it is—the complications that sometimes arise,—the after effects."
He was looking into her face now, and she grew white to the lips.
"Doctor!—"
"Yes," with a slight shake of the head, "it is the after effects. I have known, many children to be left with permanent ear or eye trouble from scarlet fever. Possibly the danger may be averted—we can never tell at first—but—"
"Mama!"