Come and kiss me; I don't think it's catching.

No, perhaps you'd better not." But Ida started forward at the granted leave, and kissed her warmly.
"There now," went on the hoarse voice complainingly, "I shouldn't wonder if you catch it, and we shall both be laid up at once.

Oh, Ida, I do feel that poorly, I do! It's the draught under the door; what else can it be?
I do, I do feel that poorly!" She began to cry miserably.

Ida forgot all about the tale she had to tell; her own eyes overflowed in sympathy.

She put her arm under her mother's neck, and pressed cheek to cheek tenderly.
"Oh, how hot you are, mother! Shall I get you a cup of tea, dear?
Wouldn't it make your throat better ?" "Perhaps it would; I don't know.