“Then there is the influenza epidemic of last spring to consider,” said Mrs. Clyde. “Dr. Strong told us then that we’d have to pay for that for months. So, I suppose, the city is still in a weakened condition and easy soil for diphtheria or any other epidemic.”
“There’s measles already in our school,” said Julia. “That’ll help, too.”
“Why haven’t you reported it, Junkum?” asked her father. “You’re Chairman of the Committee on School Conditions of the Clyde Household Protective Association.”
“We only found out to-day,” said Bobs, “when they told us maybe school would close.”
“Three years I’ve been President of the Public Health League,” remarked Mr. Clyde with a wry face, “and nothing has happened. Now that I’m just about retiring I hope there isn’t going to be serious trouble. What does the Health Department say, Strong?” he inquired, turning as the Health Master entered.
“Something very wrong there. Merritt won’t talk over the ‘phone. Wants me to come down.”
“This evening?”
“Yes. He’s ill, himself, and badly worried. What do you think?”
“It looks like some skullduggery,” declared Mr. Clyde, borrowing one of his mother-in-law’s expressive words. “Is it possible that reports of diphtheria are being suppressed, and that is why the infected houses are not placarded?”
“If it is, we’re in for trouble. As I told you, when I undertook the Chinese job of keeping this household in health,” continued the Health Master, addressing the family, “I can’t reliably protect a family in a community which doesn’t protect itself. There are too many loopholes through which infection may penetrate. So the Protective Association, in self-defense, may have to spur up the city to its own defense. First, though, I’m going over the throats of this family and take cultures.”