"I thought it was _so_ interesting, and I wondered if I could do it." Alice stared frankly.
"You don't mean to say they actually _have_ such things," she challenged.
"Well, I read about them in a magazine," asserted Billy, "-- how you could have a germ-proof room.

They said it was very simple, too.

Just pasteurize the air, you know, by heating it to one hundred and ten and one-half degrees Fahrenheit for seventeen and one-half minutes.

I remember just the figures." "Simple, indeed! It sounds so," scoffed Aunt Hannah, with uplifted eyebrows.
"Oh, well, I couldn't do it, of course," admitted Billy, regretfully.
"Bertram never'd stand for that in the world.

He's always rushing in to show the baby off to every Tom, Dick and Harry and his wife that comes; and of course if you opened the nursery door, that would let in those germ things, and you _couldn't_ very well pasteurize your callers by heating them to one hundred and ten and one-half degrees for seventeen and one-half minutes! I don't see how you could manage such a room, anyway, unless you had a system of--of rooms like locks, same as they do for water in canals." "Oh, my grief and conscience--locks, indeed!" almost groaned Aunt Hannah.