[Sidenote: Use of Handkerchief]
Miss Burr, the third grade teacher, sighed as Elma Colders passed her
handkerchief to her twin sister Zelma. This was a daily, almost hourly,
occurrence. The handkerchief wasn’t absolutely clean. These twins seemed
to take turns having colds, and Miss Burr believed the common
handkerchief was largely to blame for the transferred infection, but she
dared to say nothing about it.
Near to her desk sat Asa Kramer, who sniffed momentarily for want of a
handkerchief, while Fannie Black had a habit of often wiping her nose
with an upward stroke that was fast causing her nose to have a decided
skyward slant at the end.
One day she saw Morris Millspaugh repeat his habit of wiping his nose on
his coat sleeve and the following quotation popped into her head, “Ye
gods! Must I endure all this?” As if in answer to her question, Annie
Daily, in the back row, lowered her head and used the under side of the
bottom of her dress for a handkerchief.
“My query is answered,” groaned she. “Annie’s action says, ‘All this?
Ay, more!’”
Miss Burr said to a teacher friend, “If I were the family doctor of
these children, I’d be free to give their mothers a lecture on
sanitation, but since I’m not, I must keep within my prescribed field.”