“How?”
“Why, from the skin-flakes. That’s the way scarlet fever spreads.”
“Is it?” said the Health Master mildly. “Then perhaps you’ll explain to me why doctors aren’t the greatest danger that civilization suffers from.”
“I suppose they disinfect themselves,” said the old lady, in a rather unconvinced tone.
“Let’s see how much that would amount to. The fine flakes of skin are likely to be pretty well disseminated in a sick-room. According to the old theory, every one of them is a potential disease-bearer. Now, a doctor could hardly be in a sickroom without getting some of them on his clothes or in his hair, as well as on his hands, which, of course, he thoroughly washes on leaving the place. But that’s the extent of his disinfection. Why don’t the flakes he carries with him spread the fever among his other patients?”
“Don’t ask me!” said Clyde. “I’m not good at puzzles.”
“Many doctors still hold to the old theory. But I’ve never met one who could answer that argument. Some of the best hospitals in the world discharge patients without reference to the peeling of the skin, and without evil results.”
“How is scarlet fever caught, then?” asked Mrs. Clyde.
“From the discharge from the inflamed nose and throat, or from the ears if they are affected. Anything which comes in contact with this poisonous mucus is dangerous. Thus, of course, the skin-flakes from the lips or the hands which had been in contact with the mouth or nose might carry the contagion, just as a fork or a tooth-brush or a handkerchief might. Now, I’ll risk my status in this house on the safety of letting the other children visit Charley under certain restrictions.”
“That settles it for me,” said Mr. Clyde, whose faith in his friend, while not unquestioning, was fundamental; and the two women agreed, though not without misgivings. Thereupon Bobs, Julia, and Bettina were sent for, and the Health Master announced that Charley would hold a reception on the following afternoon. There were shouts of acclamation at the prospect.