Part 50

“And the baseball is red,” cried Bobs.

“So’s my glove,” announced Julia.

Walking over to her, the Health Master caught her left hand and smeared it with blue crayon. For good measure he put a dab on her chin.

“My story-book is all blue, too,” exclaimed the girl. “What’s it for?”

“Just by way of illustration,” explained the doctor. “The mouths of all of us contain germs of one kind or another. So I’ve assumed that Bob’s mouth has red, and Junkum’s blue, and Miss Twinkle’s green. Every chalk mark shows where you’ve spread your germs.”

“Then the red on the ball is where I wet my fingers for that in-curve,” said Bobs.

“And on my glove is where I caught it,” said Julia. “But what’s the blue doing on my left hand?”

“I know,” announced Bobs triumphantly. “You got that slow drop on the end of your finger and jammed your finger in your mouth.”

“It hurt,” defended Julia. “Look at the walls—and the Indian clubs—and the chair.”

Crayon marks were everywhere. In some places it was one color; in others another; in many, a crazy pattern of red, blue, and green.

For this ingenious example of the crayon marks I am indebted to Dr. Charles V. Chapin, Health Officer of Providence, Rhode Island, and a distinguished epidemiologist.

“And if I carried it out,” said the doctor, “your faces would all be as bad.”

“I don’t care!” murmured Betty to Susan Nipper; “I will kiss you even if you do turn green.”

“But you mustn’t kiss Charley,” interposed Dr. Strong. “If you’ve had enough rehearsal, we’ll go and make our call right after luncheon.”

Entering the sick-room, the three visitors stood a little abashed and strange. Their hearty, rough-and-tumble brother looked strangely drawn and brighteyed.

“Hello, kids!” said he, airily. “Make yourselves at home.”

Bettykin was the first to break the ice. “Did it hurt, Charley?” she asked, remembering her own experience with adenoids.

“Nope,” said the convalescent. “Only thing that hurts is being kept in bed when I want to be up and around. What’s new?”

Much was new, there in the room, and the children took it in, wide-eyed. Although it was early May, the windows were screened. All the hangings and curtains had been taken out of the room, which looked bare and bright. On the door of the bathroom was a huge roller-towel of soft, cloth-like paper, perforated in lengths so as to be easily detachable, and below it a scrap-basket, with a sign: “Throw Paper Towels in Here to be Burned after Using.” Between the two windows was a larger sign:—

Keep your Fingers Away from Your Mouth and Nose. Don’t Handle Utensils Lying About. Don’t Open an Unscreened Window. After Touching Anything which may have been Contaminated Wash Your Hands at Once. Use the Paper Towels; They’re the Only Safe Kind. One Dollar Reward to Any One Discovering a Fly in the Room. Wash Your Hands Immediately After Leaving the Room. Keep Outside the Dead-line.

PENALTIES

For First Violation of Rules—Offender Reads to Patient One Hour. Second Violation—Banishment for Balance of Day.

“The dead-line is that thing, I suppose,” said Junkum, pointing to a tape stretched upon standards around the bed at a distance of a yard.

“Is it a game?” questioned the hopeful Bettina. “No, Bettykin. It’s a germ-cage. No germs can get out of that unless they’re carried out by somebody or something. And, in that case, they’re boiled to death on the gas-stove outside.”

At this moment Charley called for a drink of water. After he had emptied the glass, his mother took it out and dropped it into the disinfecting hot bath. Then she washed her hands, dried them on a strip of the paper towel and dropped that in the basket.

“I see,” said Julia, the observant. “Nothing gets any scarlet fever on it except what Charley touches. And everything he touches has to be washed as soon as it comes out of the dead-line.”

“Exactly. We’ll make a trained nurse of you, yet, Junkum,” approved the Health Master.

“Then,” said Julia slowly, “I think Bobs ought to wash his hands now. Mother opened the door after handling Charley’s glass, and when he went to watch her wash the glass, he put his hand on the knob.”