When the little girl of Ruffluck was to be vaccinated no one
questioned the right of her father to accompany her, since that
was his wish. The vaccinating took place one evening late in
August. When Katrina left home, with the child, it was so dark
that she was glad to have some one along who could help her over
stiles and ditches, and other difficulties of the wretched road.
The vaccination bee was held that year at Falla. The housewife had
made a big fire on the hearth in the living-room and thought it
unnecessary to furnish any other illumination, except a thin tallow
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.
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.
Katrina had to take her away and try to get her quieted. Then a
big, sturdy boy baby let himself be vaccinated with never a
whimper. But the instant Katrina was back at the table with her
girl the trouble started afresh. She could not hold the child still
long enough for the sexton to make even a single incision.
Now there was no one left to vaccinate but Glory Goldie of
Ruffluck. Katrina was in despair because of her child's bad
behaviour. She did not know what to do about it, when Jan suddenly
emerged from the shadow of the door and took the child in his arms.
Then Katrina got up to let him take her place at the table.
"You just try it once!" she said scornfully, "and let's see whether
you'll do any better." For Katrina did not regard the little
toil-worn servant from Falla whom she had married as in any sense
her superior.
Before sitting down, Jan slipped off his jacket. He must have
rolled up his shirt sleeve while standing in the dark, at the back
of the room, for his left arm was bared.
He wanted so much to be vaccinated, he said. He had never been
vaccinated but once, and there was nothing in the world he feared
so much as the smallpox.
The instant the little girl saw his bare arm she became quiet, and
looked at her father with wide, comprehending eyes. She followed
closely every movement of the sexton, as he put in the three short
red strokes on the arm. Glancing from one to the other, she noticed
that her father was not faring so very badly.
When the sexton had finished with Jan, the latter turned to him,
and said:
"The li'l' lassie is so still now that maybe you can try it."
The sexton tried, and this time everything went well. The little
girl was as quiet as a mouse the whole time--the same knowing look
in her eyes. The sexton also kept silence until he had finished;
then he said to the father:
"If you did that only to calm the child, we could just as well
have made believe--"
"No, Sexton," said Jan, "then you would not have succeeded. You
never saw the like of that child! So don't imagine you can get her
to believe in something that isn't what it passes for."