Fortunately for the future welfare of the Morning Glory Club the telephone bell rang at that moment, and Mrs. Jones hastened to answer its summons.
The telephone was in the hall, only a step or two from the room in which the ladies were sitting, and as Mrs. Jones went out she left the door ajar. Silence fell over the group—not because that they wished to hear, of course, but in order that Mrs. Jones might not be annoyed. A message to a doctor's home might be so important, you know.
"Diphtheria?" they heard her say. "Where?—At school—The Clark children?—What?—Oh, Miss who?—Miss Wallace?—Sent the children home?—Yes.—Will you be home to lunch?—What?—Will there be any?—Of course—Good-bye."
"Diphtheria!" exclaimed the ladies when they were sure that Mrs. Jones was through, and a look of anxiety spread over the faces of those who had children.
"Did you hear?" asked Mrs. Jones, as she reëntered the room. "Miss Wallace suspected that one of the Clark girls had diphtheria, so she sent both of them home. The doctor is at the Clarks' now, and says that Miss Wallace was right, and that the school will have to be closed."
"Goodness!" exclaimed Mrs. Stout, "just think of havin' them three boys of mine runnin' wild for three or four weeks, to say nothin' of the danger of their bein' sick."
"What we have heard is very distressing," said Mrs. Tweedie, "but let us not be unnerved until we learn all of the particulars. In the meantime would it not be wise to continue with our work? Miss Sawyer, are you familiar with Ibsen's plays?" Thus did Mrs. Tweedie throw off diphtheria for Ibsen.
"I have read 'A Doll's House,'" replied Miss Sawyer, blushing.
"'A Doll's House,'" queried Mrs. Stout, "is it a play for children?"