One or two of them,
after exchanging greetings with their hostess, bade me Good-morning:
others eyed me in silence as they took their seats round the wall.
All whose babes were not sound asleep quietly undid their bodices and
began to give them suck. The older children scrambled into chairs and
sat kicking their heels and tracing patterns on the floor with the
water that ran off their umbrellas. They were restless but rather
silent, as if awed by the shadow of the coming Vaccination. The woman
who had brought up the procession, found a place in the far corner,
and began to unwind the comforter around her neck. Her eyes were
brighter and more agitated than any in the room.
"A brave trapse all the way from Upper Woon," remarked the youngest
mother, wiping a smear of rain from her baby's forehead.
"Ah, 'tis your first, Mary Polsue. Wait till you've carried twelve
such loads, my dear," said a tall middle-aged woman, whose black hair,
coarse as a mane, was powdered grey with, raindrops.
"Dear now, Ellen; be this the twelfth?" our hostess exclaimed.
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