"Have you heard the news, Phelps?" he demanded.
"I haven't heard anything," replied Will coldly.
"You haven't? Well, you ought to. It's all over college now."
"What's all over college?"
"Why, the report of the typhoid."
"What?" demanded Will, instantly aroused.
"I mean what I say. And there are all sorts of reports about what's to
be done. Some say the faculty have decided to shut up shop for a few
weeks, and some say they've sent for experts, and I don't know what
all."
"Who are the fellows that are down with it?"
"Schenck--"
"Peter John?" demanded Will sharply.
"Yes, and there are seven others. He's the only freshman; there are two
sophs, two juniors, and one senior. Wagner is the senior."
"Where are they?"
"They're all in the infirmary, and the whole shop has been quarantined."
"When was it found out?"
"Only to-day, this afternoon, I think. You see all eight have been under
the weather for a while, and the doctor here thought it was first one
thing that ailed them and then another. Last night or this morning they
had a consultation, and decided that every one of the eight had typhoid
fever.
Pages:
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193