body prevented the mother from quickly comprehending Agnes. And it was
not until the latter had talked to her soothingly and cheerfully for
several minutes, that she began to perceive the real state of affairs.

And then the re-action from the depths of despair was like the
infusion of new life and strength to the sick woman. She cried and
sobbed as though her heart would break for several minutes, which
excitement ended in a spasm.

Most women would have been terrified at such a scene as was at this
moment presented to Miss Arnold. But she was not a mere fancy
nurse. Far from it. Up went her sleeves, and for the next two hours
she worked with her four patients like a Trojan, first with the
mother, and next with the children. Her next care was to separate the
living from the dead. The child she wrapped up in a small sheet quite
neatly, and for the father she performed the same sad task, using a
coverlet, so that when about three o'clock the dead wagon came around
with the coffins, both bodies were decently prepared for interment.

"'Bout what time d'ye think I better git back fur t'others, nurse?"
inquired the driver of the wagon, consulting a small pass-book that he
carried in his side coat pocket.

Agnes was horrified to hear such a brutal question propounded to her
in the coolest and most business-like manner.

"What do you mean?" asked she, indignantly.

"Mean jist wot I says! No time to fool round, nuther," was the
answer. "This is the Burton fam'ly, aint it?" he asked, giving his
book another glance, and then pitching his eye quickly up around the
store, as though looking for a sign with which to compare the note
book.

"Yes, Burton," answered Agnes.

"All right, then! They wuz tuk yisterday at noon. There's a man, a
woman, four children!" [He tapped the tip of each finger of his left
hand once with the back of the book, and the thumb twice, looking
Agnes very convincingly in the face all the while, as though to make
her thoroughly understand, without putting him to the bother of a
second statement.] "Six--they wuz tuk at noon yisterday. Two dead this
mornin'. Four more oughten be dead by--let's see--why, time's up now!
t'houten be dead now! By--how's that? You aint foolin', hey? Big
fine fur foolin' the wagon man, you know. Now say, if any on 'em's
near gone it'll do, you know. Save me bother, an' you too, don't you
see? Ef they're near gone, 'nuff not ter kick nor holler wen we puts
'em in, it'll do, '