Come, let me have a look at that child." Taking the little girl upon his knee, he began to examine her, feeling her pulse and looking at her tongue.

For a while he seemed puzzled, then Jane saw him take a little magnifying glass from his pocket and by the help of it search the skin of the patient's forehead, especially just at the roots of the hair.

After this he looked at the neck and wrists, then set the child down on the couch, waving Jane back when she advanced to take it, and asked the mother, who had just entered the room with the lemonade, two or three short, quick questions.
Next he turned to Jane and said-- "I don't want to frighten you, but you will be as well out of this.

It's lucky for you," he added with a little smile, "that when you were born it wasn't the fashion for doctors to be anti-vaccinationists, for, unless I am much mistaken, that child has got smallpox." "Smallpox!" said Jane, then added aggressively, "Well, now we shall see whose theory is right, for, as you saw, I was nursing her, and I have never been vaccinated in my life.

My father would not allow it, and I have been told that it won him his first election." Ernest Merchison heard, and for a moment his face became like that of a man in a fit.
"The wicked----" he began, and stopped himself by biting his lips till the blood came.