Part 76

“It is those convalescents that we must watch. I don’t want a generation of deaf citizens growing up from this onset.”

“But can you prevent it if the disease attacks the ears?” asked Clyde.

“Almost certainly. We’ve got to inspect every child who has or had measles in this epidemic, and, where the ear-drum is shiny and concave, we will puncture it, by a very simple operation, which saves serious trouble in ninety per cent of the cases, at least. But it means constant watchfulness, for often the infection progresses without pain.”

“At the same time your inspectors will watch for other after-effects, then,” suggested Mrs. Sharpless.

“Exactly. It’s my own opinion that nearly all the serious diseases of the eye, ear, liver, kidney, heart, and so on in early middle age are the late remote effects of what we carelessly call the lesser diseases of childhood. It is only a theory as yet; though some day I think it will be proved. At any rate, we know that a serious and pretty definite percentage of all deafness follows measles; and we are going to carry this thing through far enough to prevent that sequel and to turn over a reasonably cleaned-up situation to Dr. Merritt.”

“He’s out of danger, by the way,” said Mrs. Clyde, “and will be back at his desk in a fortnight.”

“Well; he’ll have an easier job henceforth,” prophesied Mr. Clyde. “He’s got an enlightened city to watch over. And he can thank you for that, Strong.”

“He can thank the Clyde family,” said Dr. Strong with feeling. “I could have done little without you back of me.”

“It’s been interesting to extend the principles of our Household Protective Association to the larger world,” smiled Clyde. “Beyond our own city, too, in one case. Manny has had a letter from the Professor of Hygiene at Hamilton College, where he enters next year, thanking him on behalf of the faculty for his warning about young Hyland who was exposed to diphtheria at the Ellery party. He went back to Hamilton a few days after and was starting in to play basketball, which would have been decidedly dangerous for his team mates; but the authorities, after getting Manny’s letter, kept him out of the gymnasium, and kept a watch on him. He developed the disease a week later; but there has been no infection from him.”

“There’s direct result,” approved Dr. Strong. “That’s what I call spreading the gospel.”

“Grandma’s our real revivalist, at that,” said Julia. “The children at Number Three pay more attention to her column than they do to what the teachers tell them. The principal told us that it was the greatest educational force for health that Worthington had ever known.”

“Only reflected wisdom from you, young man,” said Grandma Sharpless to the Health Master. “Thank goodness, I’m through with it. I’m so sick of it that I can’t look at writing materials without wanting to cut the ink bottle’s throat with my penholder. Bart Snyder has let me off. What’s more, he sent me a check for $250. Pretty handsome of him. But I’m going to send it back.”

“Why waste good money, grandma?” drawled Mr. Clyde.

“You wouldn’t have me keep it, would you, for doing that work?”

“Who said anything about keeping it? But don’t feed it back to Bart Snyder. Why not contribute it to the Public Health League? It’s always got a handsome deficit.”

“In graceful recognition of my having a son-inlaw as president of it, I suppose.”

“I’m not president any more. My term was up last night. They didn’t honor me with a reelection,” said Mr. Clyde, with a rather too obvious glumness, which, for once, escaped the sharp old lady.

“The slinkums!” she cried. “After all the time and work you’ve given to it!”

“Well,” said the ex-incumbent philosophically, “there’s one comfort. They’ve put a better man in my place.”

“No such a thing,” declared his mother-in-law, with vehement partisanship. “They couldn’t find one. Who was it?”

“Give you one guess.”

“Was it you, young man?” queried she, fixing the Health Master with a baleful eye.

“Oh, no; a better man than I,” he hastened to assure her.

“Well, in the name of sakes, who, then?”

“You,” said Mr. Clyde, grabbing the old lady by both shoulders and giving her a vigorous kiss. “Unanimously elected amidst an uproar of enthusiasm, as the ‘Star’ puts it. Here it is, on the first column of the front page.”

For the first time in the history of the Clyde household, the senior member thereof gave way to an unbridled license of speech, in the presence of the family.

“Well, I vum!” said Grandma Sharpless.

XII. PLAIN TALK