“With children the coryza-bug makes various trouble without necessarily inviting the others in. A great proportion of the serious ear-troubles come from colds; all the way from earache to mastoiditis, and the consequent necessity of quick operations to save the patient’s life. Almost any of the organs may be impaired by the activity of the little pest. And yet as intelligent a family as this”—he looked around the circle—“considers it a ‘mere cold.’”
“Why haven’t you told us before?” asked Mr. Clyde bluntly.
“A just reproach,” admitted the Health Master. “Not having been attacked, I haven’t considered defense—a wretched principle in health matters. In fact, I’ve let the little matters of life go, too much, in my interest in the bigger.”
“But what about Bettina?” said the mother anxiously.
“Let’s have her in,” said the Health Master, and the six-year-old presently trotted into the room, announcing through a somewhat reddened nose, “I’m all stobbed ub; and Katie rubbed me with goose-grease, and I don’d wand to take any paregoric.”
“Paregoric?” said the physician. “Opium? I guess not. Off to bed with you, Toots, and we’ll try to exorcise the demon with hot-water bottles and extra blankets.”
Following her usual custom of kissing everybody good-night around the circle, Bettina held up her arms to her sister, who was nearest.
“Stop!” said the Health Master. “No kissing.”
“Not even my mamma?” queried the child. “I’m afraid not. You remember when Charley had scarlet fever he wasn’t allowed even to be very near any of you.”
“But scarlet fever is the most contagious of any of the diseases, isn’t it?” asked Julia.