“Oh, I’ve flashed my little pin-point lantern at the Great Darkness in the fond hope of discovering something,” returned the other cynically.
“In a way, I’m interested in those matters,” continued Mr. Clyde. “They’ve organized a Public Health League here, and made me president of it. More from finance than fitness,” he added, humorously.
“Finance has its part, too,” said the other. “Give me millions enough and I’ll rid any city of its worst scourge, tuberculosis.”
“Then I wish to Heaven you had the millions to spend here in Worthington! We’re in a bad way. Two years ago we elected a reform administration. The Mayor put in a new Health Officer and we looked for results. We’ve had them—the wrong kind. The death rate from tuberculosis has gone up twenty-five per cent, and the number of cases nearly fifty per cent since he took office.”
“You don’t say so!” said the stranger, showing his first evidence of animation. “That’s good.” Mr. Clyde stared. “You think so? Then you’ll undoubtedly be pleased to learn that other diseases are increasing almost at the same rate: measles, scarlet fever, and so on.”
“Fine!” said Dr. Strong.
“And finally, our general mortality rate has gone up a full point. We propose to take some action regarding it.”
“Quite right. You certainly ought to.” Something in his guest’s tone made Mr. Clyde suspicious. “What action would you suggest, then? he asked.
“A vote of confidence in your Health Officer.”
“You propose that we indorse the man who is responsible for a marked rise in our mortality figures?”