“Oh, that! Well, you see, there’s no such thing.”
“No such thing as a cold in the head, Dr. Strong?” said Julia, looking up from her book. “Why, we’ve all had ‘em, loads of times.”
“And Bettina is coming down with one now, if I’m any judge,” said Mrs. Sharpless. “She’s had the sniffles all day.”
“Let’s hope it isn’t a cold. Maybe it’s only chicken-pox or mumps.”
“Are you wishing chicken-pox and mumps on my baby?” cried Mrs. Clyde.
In the three years during which Dr. Strong had been the “Chinese physician” of the household, earning his salary by keeping his patients well instead of curing them when ill, Mrs. Clyde had never quite learned to guard against the surprises which so often pointed the Health Master’s truths.
“Not by any means; I’m only hoping for the lesser of evils.”
“But mumps and chicken-pox are real diseases,” protested Clyde.
“And you think that a ‘cold,’ as you call it, isn’t.”
“Why, no,” said Clyde hesitantly. “I wouldn’t call it a disease, any more than I’d call a sprain a broken leg.”