‘I’ve got a splitting headache,’ murmured Angela, half closing her eyes.
‘Anything else?’ asked Jean, becoming interested.
‘My throat is rather sore, I think, and–and I’m sure I’m feverish,’ answered Angela, faintly; and she shivered to show how feverish she was.
‘Oh,’ said Barbara, opening her eyes, ‘that’s how Dr. Hurst said it began; and then Finny dragged him away, and we didn’t hear any more.’
‘Don’t say anything so dreadful,’ murmured Angela, complacently. ‘What shall I do if I can’t go in for the competition?’
‘Besides, you might have it very badly and die,’ said Jean, consolingly.
‘Yes, you might. We knew a boy on the opposite side of the square, and he died,’ remarked Babs. ‘Only, I’m not sure if it was scarlet fever. His sister used to come and tell us about it, and she said he had a kettle with a long spout in his room, all day long, and it puffed out smoke at him, and made such a funny gurgling sound that she used to be afraid to pass his door after dark. Perhaps it wasn’t scarlet fever,’ she added, out of consideration for Angela, ‘but he did die.’
Angela looked from one to the other and shook her head mournfully. ‘I expect it was,’ she said. ‘It sounds exactly like it.’
‘Oh, yes,’ continued Jean, cheerfully. ‘I know, because a cousin of mine had something that was catching once, and she nearly lost her sight through it, and she’s had to wear spectacles ever since, and her eyes are all red and shiny, and she looks a hideous sight. I expect that was scarlet fever too.’
Angela shuddered, and quite closed her eyes that time. Her two comforters looked at each other expressively.