“Which dwellings this time?” asked the second man on the cart, who was known as a burier.
“There, there and there,” said the watchman, pointing with the head of his halberd.
“What! again?” exclaimed the driver, looking at the hovel nearest at hand.
“The last of the family,” added the watchman.
“Man or woman?”
“Neither; a ten-year-old girl.”
“Died alone?”
“Yes. A friend came early in the night to see her, but the law, you know, allows no one to go into and then come out of an infected house, except you buriers.”
“And this friend said he would want to come out.”
“Of course.”