lse, found the room
uncommonly light, although it was as dim at the back as if a
dark-gray wall had been raised there--making the room appear
smaller than it was. And in this semi-darkness could be dimly seen
a group of women with babes in arms that had to be trundled, and
fed, and tended in every way.

The mothers were busy unwinding shawls and mufflers late from
their little ones, drawing off their slips, and unloosing the
bands of their undershirts, so that the upper portion of their
little bodies could be easily exposed when the sexton called
them up to the operating table.

It was remarkably quiet in the room, considering there were so
many little cry-babies all gathered in one place. The youngsters
seemed to be having such a good time gazing at one another they
forgot to make a noise. The mothers were quiet because they wanted
to hear what the sexton had to say; for he kept up a steady flow of
small talk.

"There's no fun like going about vaccinating and looking at all the
pretty babies," said he. "Now we shall see whether it's a fine lot
you've brought me this year."

The man was not only the sexton of the parish, where he had lived
all his life, but he was also the schoolmaster. He had vaccinated
the mothers, had taught them, and seen them confirmed and married.
Now he was going to vaccinate their babies. This was the children's
first contact with the man who was to play such an important part
in their lives.

It seemed to be a good beginning. One mother after the other came
forward and sat down on a chair at the table, each holding her
child so that the light would fall upon its bared left arm; and the
sexton, chattering all the while, then made the three tiny
scratches in the smooth baby skin, without so much as a peep coming
from the youngster. Afterward the mother took her baby over to the
fireplace to let the vaccine dry in. Meantime she thought of what
the sexton had said of her child--that it was large and beautiful
and would some day be a credit to the family; that it would grow up
to be as good as its father and grandfather--or even better.

Everything passed off thus peacefully and quietly until it came
to Katrina's turn at the table with her Glory Goldie.

The little girl simply would not be vaccinated. She screamed and
fought and kicked. Katrina tried to hush her and the sexton spoke
softly and gently to her; but it did no good. The poor little thing
was uncontrollably frightened.

Katri