Also, under the instructions of the specialist, they made an attempt to break the child of the “hoodaloo mungie” habit. A baby should lie down and go to sleep without handling, the authority had declared; and now that there was all outdoors for him to cry in, they resolved that he should be taught. So they built up the fence about the crib, and laid the baby in for his afternoon nap, and started to go away. And the baby gave one look of perplexity and dismay, and then began to cry. By the time they had got out of the tent he was screaming like a creature possessed; and Corydon and Thyrsis sat outside and stared at each other in wonder and alarm. When she could stand it no more, they went away to a distance; but still the uproar went on. Now and then they would creep back and peep in at the purple and choking infant; and then steal away again, and discuss the phenomenon, and wish that the “child-specialist” were there to advise them. Finally, when the crying had gone on for two hours without a moment’s pause, they gave up, because they were afraid the baby might cry itself into convulsions. And so the “hoodaloo mungie” habit went on for some time yet. Under the “stuffing regime” the infant at first thrived amazingly; he became fat and rosy, and Corydon’s heart beat high with joy and pride. But then came midsummer, and the hot season; and first of all a rash broke out upon the precious body, and in spite of powders and ointments, refused to go away. Later on came the “hives”, with which the baby was spotted like the top of a pepper-crust. And then, as fate willed it, the family of a woman who did some laundry for Corydon developed the measles; and Corydon found it out too late--and so they were in for the first of a long program of “children’s diseases”. It was a siege that lasted for a month and more--a nightmare experience. The child had to be kept in a dark place, under pain of losing its eyesight; and when it was very hot in the tent, some one had to sit and fan it. It could not sleep, but writhed and moaned, now screaming in torment, now whimpering like a frightened cur--a sound that wrung Thyrsis’ very heart. And oh, the sight of the little body--purple, a mass of eruptions, and with beads of perspiration upon it! Corydon’s mother came to help her through this ordeal, and would sit for hours upon hours, rocking the wailing infant in her arms.