"Are you in, Miss Searight?" called Miss Douglass, looking about the room, for Lloyd had returned to the closet and was busy washing the minim-glass.
"Yes, yes," cried Lloyd, "I am. Sit down."
"Rownie told me you are next on call," said the other, dropping on Lloyd's couch.
"So I am; I was very nearly caught, too. I ran over across the square for five minutes, and while I was gone Miss Wakeley and Esther Thielman were called. My name is at the top now."
"Esther got a typhoid case from Dr. Pitts. Do you know, Lloyd, that's—let me see, that's four—seven—nine—that's ten typhoid cases in the City that I can think of right now."
"It's everywhere; yes, I know," answered Lloyd, coming out of the room, carefully drying the minim-glass.
"We are going to have trouble with it," continued the fever nurse; "plenty of it before cool weather comes. It's almost epidemic."
Lloyd held the minim-glass against the light, scrutinising it with narrowed lids.
"What did Esther say when she knew it was an infectious case?" she asked. "Did she hesitate at all?"
"Not she!" declared Miss Douglass. "She's no Harriet Freeze."