Ten days after the new spring had been drawn upon certain ill-defined cases of illness began to appear in the town. For the most part they were among children, and the doctors for a day or two considered them as only a natural outcome of this long-continued sultriness and inclement air. But they were not wholly at their ease about it, and as the cases increased day by day it was no longer possible to exclude the idea that this was an epidemic. By this time some of the first cases, which were now five or six days old, began to look grave, and before the week was out it was generally known that typhoid had appeared in many houses.
Several of Jeannie’s various classes were ill with the hitherto unspecified fever, and she had been visiting them daily at their homes. She was up in the nursery making herself agreeable to the baby one morning when Miss Fortescue came in, looking grave.
“Jeannie, some of your girls have been ill, have they not?” she asked.
“Yes, four or five of them and several of the boys. I am just going out to see them.”
“Leave the child,” said Miss Fortescue, “and come.”
Jeannie followed her, and a howl followed Jeannie.
“What is it, Aunt Em?” she asked, when they were outside.
“It is typhoid,” said Miss Fortescue.
Jeannie dropped her eyes for a moment, and then looked up.
“Is it infectious?” she asked; “I mean, can I carry it?”