When a patient is visited at home, he and his family are often stimulated to a high degree of carefulness. The patient uses a sputum cup for his own convenience, and the family insist upon this for their own interest and safety. The result is a lessening of danger, and an improvement upon a neglected and uninstructed case. In the factory, these conditions are reversed. His cup is no longer a convenience, and he dreads being conspicuous through its use. Moreover, since his illness is unknown to his fellow-workers, there is no one to insist upon precautions of any kind. The result is that we maintain in the factory conditions which we seek to abolish in the home. We give one set of people information whereby to protect themselves, and we withhold this information from another group of people who need it almost as much, which is illogical and stupid and costly. Enormous sacrifices have been made to this policy of silence, and it is time for these sacrifices to cease. Those in contact with a consumptive, whether this contact takes place in the home or in the factory, are entitled to know the nature of his disease. It is not the degree of consanguinity, but the degree of contact which should determine this knowledge. We cannot trust the patient to protect others—it is a trust too often violated. We must surround him in the shop with a public opinion even more potent than that which he finds at home. His fellow-workers will be less tolerant of breaches of technique, will make less excuse for whims and temper, than does the tired family. We knew of one patient who insisted on spitting on the floor—at home; when his wife remonstrated, he knocked her down. In the shop, such conduct would cost him his place, and rightly.