“Yes, she’ll go; but, Virginia, I just remembered the German Measles. They don’t look so much like a blessing as they did a few minutes ago. What if I do get them? Oh, Virginia, what if I do? If I’m going to have them, I wish I’d get them right away, and then I’d be all over them in a week. Isn’t there some way they can be hurried up if they’re inside of you?”
Virginia was for a few moments lost in contemplation. Then apparently she remembered.
“Why, of course, there is,” she said. “I remember all about it now. If they’re really inside of you, hot things will bring them out. When they thought I had the mumps once, Hannah said ‘Steam them out, dear. If they’re there, they’ll come.’ And they did come out. I’ve heard Hannah say that over and over again. Don’t you worry, Priscilla. We’ll use all the hot things we know, and try to bring them out, and, if they don’t come, you can be reasonably sure they’re not inside of you. If I were you, I’d begin right off. I’d put on a sweater, and sit over the register. I’d just bake! To-night we’ll get extra blankets and hot water bottles, and in a day or two I believe we’ll have them out. It’s lucky to-morrow is Sunday.”
“I just know they’re inside,” wailed Priscilla, buttoning her sweater, as she sat over the register. “My! It’s hot here! Would you think of hot things, too? You know we said we believed that thoughts were powerful.”
“I certainly do believe it. Yes, I believe I’d let my mind dwell on Vesuvius and the burning of Rome, and things like—like crematories and bonfires and the Equator. If there’s anything in thought suggestion that certainly will help. It won’t harm anyway. Are you awfully uncomfortable?”
“Very hot. Would you really stay here all the afternoon?”
“Yes, I would, and most of to-morrow. If, by to-morrow night, there aren’t any signs, I’ll believe the danger’s past Let’s not tell anybody what we’re doing. If Miss Wallace thought you expected them, she might think you ought not to go.”
“Does Hannah know all about sickness?”
“She certainly does. Why, everybody for miles around comes to her for advice, and trusts her just as though she were a doctor. Really, Priscilla, I know she’d do just this way if she were here.”
The reassured Priscilla sweltered over the register most of the afternoon. When evening came, she was somewhat out-of-sorts. “Maybe the hating everybody has begun,” thought her room-mate as she filled hot water-bottles. They had borrowed all in The Hermitage, except Miss Wallace’s and Miss Baxter’s (Miss Baxter was Miss Green’s more popular successor)—much to the unsatisfied wonder of the household. Priscilla turned uneasily all night in a nest of hot water-bottles and extra blankets. In the morning there were no signs of measles, except perhaps a somewhat peevish disposition.