“All right, Doctor, I'll be there in a few minutes.”
When he reached the hotel and had examined the patient he said, “He has smallpox.”
“I began to suspect that.”
“Not a bit of doubt of it.”
“The hotel is full of people—I'm afraid there'll be a panic.”
“We must get him out of here. We'll have to improvise a pest-house at once. I'll go and see about it.”
That evening about an hour after supper the doctor's daughter came hurriedly into the room where her mother was sitting.
“Mother,” she exclaimed, “there's an awful lot of people in the office, a regular mob and they're as mad as fury.”
“What about?” exclaimed her mother, startled.
“They're mad at father for putting the tent for a smallpox patient down in their neighborhood.”