Part 48

“Stop it, of course.”

“Of course,” repeated the Health Master. “Obviously we can’t stop the machinery of life, but we can ease it down to its lowest possible strain, until it has had a chance to readjust itself. That is what I want to do in Charley’s case.”

“How does this poison affect the system?”

“If I could discover that, I’d be sure of a place in history. All we know is that no organ seems to be exempt from its sudden return attack long after the disease has passed. If we ever get any complete records, I venture to say that we’ll find more children dying in after years from the results of scarlet fever than die from the immediate disease itself, not to mention such after-effects as deafness and blindness.”

“I’ve noticed that,” said Grandma Sharpless, “when we lived in the country. And I remember a verse on the scarlet-fever page of an old almanac:—

If they run from nose or ear, Watch your children for a year.

But I always set down those cases to catching cold.”

“Most people do. It isn’t that. It’s overstrain put on a poisoned system. And it’s true not of scarlet fever alone, but of measles, and diphtheria, and grippe; and, in a lesser degree, of whooping-cough and chicken pox.”

“You’ve seen such cases in your own practice?” asked Mr. Clyde, and regretted the question as soon as he had put it, for there passed over Dr. Strong’s face the quick spasm of pain which anything referring back to the hidden past before he had come to the Clyde house always brought.

“Yes,” he replied with an effort. “I have had such cases, and lost them. I might even say, killed them in my ignorance.”

“Oh, no, Dr. Strong!” said Mrs. Clyde in quick sympathy. “Don’t say that. Being mistaken isn’t killing.”

“It is, sometimes, for a doctor. I remember one little patient who had a very light case of scarlet fever. I let her get up as soon as the fever broke. Three months later she developed a dropsical tendency. And one day she fell dead across the doll she was playing with. The official cause of death said heart disease. But I knew what it was. The next case was not so wholly my fault. The boy was a spoiled child, who held his parents in enslavement. They hadn’t the strength of character to keep him under control. He insisted on riding his bicycle around the yard, three days after he was out of bed. Against his willfulness my protests were of no account. What I should have done is to have thrown up the case; but I was young and the people were my friends. Well; that boy made, apparently, a complete recovery. A few weeks later I was sent for again. There was some kidney trouble. I knew, before the analysis was made, what it would show: nephritis. The poison had struck to the kidneys like a dagger. The poor little chap dragged along for some months before he died; and his mother—God forgive me if I did wrong in telling her the truth, as I did for the protection of their other child—almost lost her reason.”

“And such cases are common?” asked Mr. Clyde.

“Common enough to be fairly typical. Afterward, I cited the two instances in a talk before our medical society. My frankness encouraged some of the other men to be frank; and the list of fatalities and permanent disabilities, following scarlet fever and measles, which was brought out at that meeting, nearly every case being one of rushing the convalescence—well, it reformed one phase of medical procedure in—in that city and county.”

“That settles it for Charley,” decided Mr. Clyde. “He stays in bed until you certify him cured, if I have to hire a vaudeville show to keep him amused.”

“My boy is not a spoiled child!” said Mrs. Clyde proudly. “I can handle him.”

“Maybe he wasn’t before,” remarked Grandma Sharpless dryly; “but I think you’ll have your hands full now.”

“Therefore,” said Dr. Strong, “I propose to enlist the services of the whole family, including the children.”

“What! Let the others go to see Charley when he’s peeling?” protested Mrs. Sharpless. “They’ll all catch it.”

“How?”

“Why, from the skin-flakes. That’s the way scarlet fever spreads.”

“Is it?” said the Health Master mildly. “Then perhaps you’ll explain to me why doctors aren’t the greatest danger that civilization suffers from.”

“I suppose they disinfect themselves,” said the old lady, in a rather unconvinced tone.

“Let’s see how much that would amount to. The fine flakes of skin are likely to be pretty well disseminated in a sick-room. According to the old theory, every one of them is a potential disease-bearer. Now, a doctor could hardly be in a sickroom without getting some of them on his clothes or in his hair, as well as on his hands, which, of course, he thoroughly washes on leaving the place. But that’s the extent of his disinfection. Why don’t the flakes he carries with him spread the fever among his other patients?”

“Don’t ask me!” said Clyde. “I’m not good at puzzles.”

“Many doctors still hold to the old theory. But I’ve never met one who could answer that argument. Some of the best hospitals in the world discharge patients without reference to the peeling of the skin, and without evil results.”

“How is scarlet fever caught, then?” asked Mrs. Clyde.

“From the discharge from the inflamed nose and throat, or from the ears if they are affected. Anything which comes in contact with this poisonous mucus is dangerous. Thus, of course, the skin-flakes from the lips or the hands which had been in contact with the mouth or nose might carry the contagion, just as a fork or a tooth-brush or a handkerchief might. Now, I’ll risk my status in this house on the safety of letting the other children visit Charley under certain restrictions.”