It had been a very cold winter and there was disease in the town. The local people suffered with their coughs and sneezes and recovered quickly, but the effect on Mori’s group was much more severe. They didn’t seem able to cope with the infection at all, and in fact several had already sickened to death. My doctor couldn’t offer much help. He was a hearty fellow, good with poultices and blisters, but rather impatient with such an extreme reaction to a common problem of rough country life. There were other workers to take their place on the benches, of course, so the business didn’t suffer for long, but there were no more like them—no more vivid eyes and fine, dark hair. No more talented seamstresses; no more masters of design like Mori. Their numbers diminished shockingly swiftly.
The man
