He tried to take the little child from Mrs. French's knee,
but the little one vehemently objected.

"Well, let's look at you, anyway," said the doctor, proceeding to
unwind some filthy rags from the little one's head. "Great Scott!"
he exclaimed in a low voice, "this is truly awful!"

The hair was matted with festering scabs. The ears, the eyes,
the fingers were full of running sores.

"I had no idea this thing had gone so far," he said in
a horrified voice.

"What is it?" said Mrs. French. "Is it--"

"No, not itch. It is the industrious and persevering eczema
pusculosum, known to the laity as salt rheum of the domestic
variety."

"It has certainly got worse this last week," said Mrs. French.

"Well, this can't go on another day, and I can't treat her here.
She must go. Tell your mother," said the doctor in a decided tone
to a little girl of thirteen who stood near.

Mrs. Blazowski threw up her hands with voluble protestation. "She
says they will not go. She put grease on and make them all right."

"Grease!" exclaimed the doctor. "I should say so, and a good many
other things too! Why, the girl's head is alive with them! Heavens