'Why--partly I take shame to myself--this business of Hector and
Blanche kept Spencer and me away last dispensary day; and partly it
was that young coxcomb, Henry Ward, thought it not worth while to
trouble me about a simple epidemic. Simple epidemic indeed!'
repeated Dr. May, changing his tone from ironical mimicry to hot
indignation. 'I hope he will be gratified with its simplicity! I
wonder how long he would have gone on if it had not laid hold on
him.'

'You don't mean that he has it?'

'I do. It will give him a practical lesson in simple epidemics.'

'And Henry Ward has it!' repeated Mary, looking so much dismayed that
her father laughed, saying--

'What, Mary thinks when it comes to fevers being so audacious as to
lay hold of the doctors, it is time that they should be put a stop
to.'

'He seems to have petted it and made much of it,' said Ethel; 'so no
wonder! What could have possessed him?'

'Just this, Ethel; and it is only human nature after all. This young
lad comes down, as Master Tom will do some day, full of his lectures
and his hospitals, and is nettled and displeased to find his father
content to have Spencer or me called in the instant anything serious
is the matter.'

'But you are a physician, papa,' said Mary.