"Oh, I'm so glad you approve, Ulie dear. And you'll help me, won't
you?"

"You bet I will, ducky dove."

"That's glorious. Now which will you pretend to have, yellow fever or
smallpox or--"

"Which will _I_ pretend to have? Do you mean to say that you expect ME
to go bed with a fatal disease?"

"It doesn't have to be fatal, my love. Just so long as it's
contagious, you know."

"Well, of all th--what's to happen to my business?"

"Why, you can call it a vacation. And you can pretend to get well
after Christmas; or you can have the doctor say it wasn't yellow fever
after all."

"But I stay in bed for several days, eh?"

"Oh, you can move round all you want, just so 's't you don't go
outdoors, and keep away from the windows."

Mr. Budlong's admiration was reverting to its normal state. He growled:

"You women would be an awful joke, if you were only a little funnier.
If you're so keen on this quarantine business you quarantine yourself.
You can have yellow fever, or scarlet, or green or any color you