It is hard while we are doing
all we can to stamp out the disease, to have you, with the best of
motives I admit, carrying it from one house to another. How are we to
keep it out of the West End, if you ladies carry the seeds of it?"
The hard-worked man spoke with some heat.
"So the poor brothers are to be left for fear of hurting the rich ones?"
"That's not fair--you know it is not!" said the doctor. "We are set here
to fight the disease, and fight it we must."
"And I am set here to fight something worse," returned Hester with a
smile.
The doctor came out and shut the door.
"I must beg of you to go away," he said. "I shall be compelled to
mention in my report how you and other ladies add to our difficulties."
He slipped in again and closed the door. Hester turned and went down the
stair, now on her part a little angry. She knew it was no use thinking
when she was angry, for when the anger was gone she almost always
thought otherwise. The first thing was to get rid of the anger.
Instinctively she sat down and began to sing; it was not the first time
she had sat and sung in a dirty staircase. It was not a wise thing to
do, but her anger prevented her from seeing its impropriety.
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