After the rooms had been decorated, the Crocus boys who always liked being out in the open air proposed a game of football. I do not know enough about the game to describe it but all went well until it came time for them to pile themselves up on top of the ball. When they emerged from that pile, Platinum, Belladonna and the Crocus boys were suffering from epistaxis. Platinum’s blood was dark and coagulated. Belladonna’s was bright red and hot but the blood of the Crocus boys spun down in dark strings. They laughed and pretended not to mind it, but in spite of pretence a cold perspiration came out in a large drops on the Crocus boy’s foreheads and they fainted. While Mrs. Crocus was trying to put the boys back into normal condition, she noticed that her own boys kept up a continual scratching; now here, now there, as though they itched all over, so she loosened their clothes to investigate. What was her surprise to find the whole body of each covered with scarlet redness. Quick decision was Mrs. Crocus’s strong point even if she was obliged to change it immediately, so she ordered her own to bed and sent her husband home with the guests and phoned for the doctor, hoping that their Christmas had not started an epidemic of scarlet fever in the town.
CHRISTMAS WITH THE CROCUSES
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