“One of medicine’s direst errors,” said Dr. Strong. “Nobody will ever know how much that false and cruel system has added to our death-rate in the past. To-day a practitioner who kept water from a fever patient—unless there were unusual complications—would be properly citable for malpractice. By the way,” he continued, “we’re changing our views about feeding in long illnesses. Typhoid patients have always been kept down to the lowest possible diet, nothing but milk. Now, some of the big hospitals are feeding typhoid cases, right through the fever, on foods carefully selected for their heat and energy values, with the result that not only has the patient more strength to fight the disease, but he pulls through practically free from the emaciation which has always been regarded as inevitable.”
“Can I have my candy?” inquired Bettina, holding to her own point.
“If it’s good, sound candy. Now I’m going to utter an awful heresy. Generally speaking, and in moderation, what you want is good for you.”
“Pure anarchy,” laughed Mr. Clyde.
“Not at all; the law of the body, always demanding what is best for its development.”
“Well, I want,” declared Robin, with a sudden energy, “to take off these hot, scratchy flannels.”
“Too late now,” said the Health Master, “until spring. You’ve been wearing them all winter. But another year, if I have my way, you won’t have to put them on.”
“You’d let him tempt pneumonia by going through a winter with light summer underwear?”
“Unless you get out an injunction against me,” smiled the physician. “Bobs had a pretty tough time of it for the first week when he changed to flannels. He’s thin-skinned, and the rough wool irritated him pretty badly. In fact, he had a slight fever for two days. It isn’t worth that suffering. Besides, he’s a full-blooded youngster, and doesn’t need the extra warmth. You can’t dress all children alike in material any more than you can dress them all from the same pattern.”
“Then I want to leave off mine, too,” announced Charles.