In the tide of the Jenkins's prosperity there came the inevitable ebb.
On the fateful Friday morning succeeding the concert, Mrs. Hudgers,
looking from her window, saw a little group of children with books under
their arms returning from school. Having no timepiece, she was
accustomed to depend on the passing to and fro of the children for
guidance as to the performance of her household affairs.
"My sakes, but twelve o'clock come quick to-day," she thought, as she
kindled the fire and set the kettle over it in preparation of her midday
meal.
A neighbor dropping in viewed these proceedings with surprise.
"Why, Mrs. Hudgers, ain't you et yer breakfast yet?"
"Of course I hev. I'm puttin' the kittle over fer my dinner."
"Dinner! why, it's only a half arter nine."
Mrs. Hudgers looked incredulous.
"I seen the chillern agoin' hum from school," she maintained.
"Them was the Jenkinses, Iry hez come down with the scarlit fever, and
they're all in quarrytine."
"How you talk! Wait till I put the kittle offen the bile."
The two neighbors sat down to discuss this affliction with the ready
sympathy of the poor for the poor. Their passing envy of the Jenkins's
good fortune was instantly skimmed from the surface of their
friendliness, which had only lain dormant and wanted but the touch of
trouble to make them once more akin.
When the city physician had pronounced Iry's "spell" to be scarlet
fever, the other members of the household were immediately summoned by
emergency calls. The children came from school, Amarilly from the
theatre, and the Boarder from his switch to hold an excited family
conference.
"It's a good thing we got the washin's all hum afore Iry was took,"
declared the optimistic Amarilly.
"Thar's two things here yet," reported Mrs. Jenkins. "Gus come hum too
late last night to take the preacher's surplus and Miss King's lace
waist. You was so tired I didn't tell you, 'cause I know'd you'd be sot
on goin' with them yourself. They're all did up."
"Well, they'll hev to stay right here with us and the fever," said
Amarilly philosophically.
At heart she secretly rejoiced in the retaining of these two garments,
for they seemed to keep her in touch with their owners whom she would be
unable to see until Iry had recovered.
"I don't see what we are going to do, Amarilly," said her mother
despairingly. "Thar'll be nuthin' comin' in and so many extrys."