Part 7

“Why, yes; though that idiot of a cousin of Tom’s snubbed me when I told him about it. The boy seemed kind of numb and slow with his hands for some time after.”

“And now?” So sharp came the question that Mr. Clyde glanced at the speaker, not without apprehension.

“Nothing left of it that I can see.”

“What had you in mind?” asked Mr. Clyde of the doctor, curiously.

“Speaking technically, anterior poliomyelitis.” Grandma Sharpless laughed comfortably. “I’ve noticed that a very long name like that usually means a sore toe or a pimple behind your ear. It’s the short names that bring the undertaker.”

“Shrewdly said, but exception noted,” said Dr. Strong.

“As for Bobs, I remember two cases I saw at Clinton years ago, like that attack of his. One of ‘em never walked afterward, and the other has a shriveled hand to this day.”

Dr. Strong nodded. “To come down nearer to English, that’s infantile paralysis, one of the mysteries of medicine. I’ll tell you some things about it some day. Your Bobs had a narrow escape.”

“You’re sure it is an escape?” asked the father anxiously.

“If Mrs. Sharpless is satisfied that there’s no trace left, I am.”

“Come in to breakfast,” said Mrs. Clyde, entering the room with a child attached to either hand. She was a tall, fair woman with the charm of fresh coloring and regular features, large, intelligent eyes, and a somewhat restless vigor and vitality. That her husband and children adored her was obvious. One had to look twice to perceive that she was over thirty; and even a careful estimate did not suggest her real age of thirty-seven.

During the introductory meal, Dr. Strong talked mostly to her, but he kept watching the children. And when it was over, he went to his study and made an inventory, in the order of age.

GRANDMA SHARPLESS; Probably 70; sound and firm as a good apple; ought to live to be 90. Medical demands, none.

MR. CLYDE; 45; sturdy, restrained, active, phlegmatic: Tends to over-concentration; his own best physician.

MRS. CLYDE; 35; possibly more. Quick-witted, nervously active; eager, perhaps a little greedy of enjoyment. Somewhat intemperate; probably in eating, possibly in the use of tea or candy. An invariably loving mother; not invariably a wise one.

MAYNARD, otherwise “MANNY” CLYDE; 14 years old; rangy, good-tempered, intelligent boy with a good physical equipment. (Note: watch his eyes.)

ROBIN, alias BOBS and JULIA (mysteriously) JUNKUM; 8-year old twins; Bobs, quick and flashing like his mother; Julia, demure, thoughtful, a little lethargic, and with much of her father s winning quality of friendliness. (Note: test Bobs for reflexes. Watch Julia's habits of play.)

CHARLES; Aged 7; strong rough-and-tumble urchin, the particular pet of his grandmother. (Note: watch his hand motions.)

BETTINA, alias variously BETSY, TOOTS, TWINKLES, and the CHERUB; 4 years old; a Duck [here the human side of the doctor broke through], though a little spoiled by her father. (Note: a mouth-breather; the first case to be considered.)

ADDENDUM; Various servants, not yet identified or studied; but none the less members of our household community.

This catalogue Dr. Strong put away, with Grandma Sharpless’s day books, for further notation and amplification. Then he made three visits: one to the Health Bureau, one to the Water Department, and one to the City Engineer’s office, where he spent much time over sundry maps. It was close upon dinner-time when he returned, and immediately looked up Mr. Clyde.

“Well?” said that gentleman.

“Assuming that I accept your offer it should be understood that I’m only a guardian, not, a physician.”

“Meaning—”

“That I shall expect, in emergency, to call in such physicians or others as I consider best equipped for the particular task.”

“Very well. But why that phrase ‘or others’?”

“I’ve suggested before that I am a heretic. In certain instances I might want an osteopath, or, if I were dealing with a sick soul causing a sick body, I might even send for a Christian Scientist.”

“You have a refreshingly catholic breadth of view.”