candle that burned on a small table, at which the sexton was to
perform his surgical work.

The Ruffluck folk, as well as every one else, 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.