at these words. Guszti Klimpa
fired off his improvised pistol underneath the bench, and the pellet hit
Mr. Korde full on the nose, whereupon he well trounced Joska Slipik,
though he knew very well that he was not the culprit.

Whilst the wrongfully flogged urchin was still howling, the others began
singing the hymn. So long as the low notes predominated Mr. Korde's
voice was alone audible, but at the crescendoes the youthful believers
had it all their own way, and shrieked till the windows rattled, the
rector beating time the while by lightly tapping the heads of the
Faithful with his ruler whenever they departed from the impracticable
melody.

After that, Guszti Klimpa grappled with a prayer, and recited the
morning devotions instead of the evening devotions by mistake, a lapse
of which the rector, however, took no notice. The Amen was no sooner
uttered than the youngsters, with a wild yell, made a solid rush for the
door, bearing in mind Mr. Korde's laudable habit on such occasions of
lambing it into the hindermost by way of protesting against the general
uproar. When the whole class was fairly out in the street again, its
delight at being released from school for some time to come was too much
for it, and in the exuberance of its high spirits it fell tooth and nail
upon the Lutheran lads who were playing at ball in front of their own
church, broke a couple of their heads, scribbled: "Vivat vacatio" on the
walls of every house they came to, slammed to every gate they passed,
and roused every dog in the village to fury pitch--thus giving the whole
world to understand that the rector, Mr. Michael Korde, had given his
promising pupils an extraordinary holiday, because the morbus was
coming, and it was not good for people to congregate together at such
times.

* * * * *

And now the village ancients and the women were trooping home from
church.

Every face was dominated by an expression of dumb terror.

In the church the priest also had read aloud the letter from the county
authorities, adding a short discourse of his own to the effect that a
calm confidence in the providence of God and a clear Christian
conscience were worth far more than all the medicaments, cordons, and
bismuth powder in the world.

"We are all, however, in the hands of God," he said, "and if we live
well we shall die well. A righteous man need never fear Death."

The old hag, "the death-bird," was crouching the