Ne'er a
man'll look 'pon me, so I'm forced to be content wi' this babe and
clothe 'en pretty, as you see. Ah, you'm lucky, you'm lucky, though
you talk so!"
"She's terrible fond o' childer," said one of the women audibly,
addressing me. "How many 'noculations have you 'tended, 'Melia?"
"Six-an'-twenty, countin' to-day," 'Melia announced with pride in her
trembling voice. But at this point one of the infants began to cry,
and before he could be hushed the noise of wheels sounded down the
road, and Dr. Rodda drove up in his reedy gig.
He was a round, dapper practitioner, with slightly soiled cuffs and
an extremely business-like manner. On entering the room he jerked his
head in a general nod to all present, and stepping to the table, drew
a small packet from his waistcoat, and unfolded it. It contained about
a score of small pieces of ivory, pointed like pens, but flat. Then,
pulling out a paper and consulting it hastily, he set to work,
beginning with the child that lay on the blonde woman's lap, next to
the door.
I looked around. The children were staring with wide, admiring eyes.
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