I don't know who fetched the disease to the Old Home House. All I'm
sartain of is that 'twan't long afore all hands was in that condition
where the doctor'd have passed 'em on to the parson. First along it
seemed as if the Thompson-Small syndicate had been vaccinated--they
didn't develop a symptom. But one noon the Dowager sails into the
dining-room and unfurls a brown paper bundle.

"I've captured a prize, my dear," says she to the Duchess. "A veritable
prize. Just look!"

And she dives under the brown paper hatches and resurrects a pink plate,
suffering from yaller jaundice, with the picture of a pink boy, wearing
curls and a monkey-jacket, holding hands with a pink girl with pointed
feet.

"Ain't it perfectly lovely?" says she, waving the outrage in front of
the Duchess. "A ginuwine Hall nappy! And in SUCH condition!"

"Why," says the Duchess, "I didn't know you were interested in
antiques."

"I dote on 'em," comes back the Dowager, and "my daughter" owned up that
she "adored" 'em.

"If you knew," continues Mrs. Thompson, "how I've planned and contrived
to get this treasure. I've schemed--My! my! My daughter says she's
actually ashamed of me. Oh, no! I can't tell even you where I got it.
All's fair in love and collecting, you know, and there are more gems
where this came from."