THE ONE CHANCE
Phœbe lost no time in carrying out her plans. When she mentioned the operation to Phares Eby he looked dubious.
"I'm afraid it's no use," he said gravely. "Those operations very often fail."
"But there's a chance, Phares! If it were your eyes wouldn't you snatch at any meagre chance?"
"Why, I guess I would," he admitted, wondering at her insight into human nature and admiring her devotion to the blind woman.
Aunt Maria also was sceptical. "Ach, Phœbe, it vonders me now that Barb'll spend all that money for carfare and to stay in the city and then mebbe it's all for nothin'. There was old Bevy Way and a lot of old people I knowed went blind and they died blind. When abody gets so old once it seems the doctors can't do much. I guess it just is to be."
"Oh, Aunt Maria," Phœbe said hotly, "I don't believe in that is-to-be business! Not until you've done all you can to make things better."
"Well, mebbe, for all, it's worth tryin'. I guess if it was my eyes I'd do most anything to get 'em fixed again."
Mother Bab said little about the hopes Phœbe had raised, but the girl knew how the woman built upon having sight for a glad surprise for David.
"I'm afraid the fifty dollars won't reach," she said the day before they were to take the trip to Philadelphia.
"Don't worry about that. Those big doctors usually have hearts to match. I told you there are generous people who give lots of money to hospitals."
"And I guess the hospitals pay the doctors then," offered the woman.
"I guess so," Phœbe agreed. Her conscience smote her for the deception she was practicing on the dear white-capped woman. "But what's the use of straining at every little gnat of a falsehood," she thought, "when I'm swallowing camels wholesale?"
She managed to secure a short interview with Dr. Munster before the examination of Mother Bab's eyes.
"I want to ask you what the operation is going to cost, hospital charges and all," she said frankly.
"At least five hundred dollars."
Phœbe's year in the city had taught her many things. She showed no surprise at the amount named. "That will be satisfactory, Dr. Munster. But I want to ask you, please don't tell Moth—Mrs. Eby anything about it. I—it's to be paid by a friend. I know Mrs. Eby would almost faint if she knew so much money was going to be spent for her. She knows that many hospitals have free rooms and thinks some operations are free. I left her under that impression. You understand?"
The big doctor understood. "Yes, I see. Well, we'll run this one chance to cover and make a fight. I wish I could promise more," he said.
"Thank you. I know you'll succeed. I'm sure she'll see again!"
True to his promise Dr. Munster answered Mother Bab so tactfully that she came out of his office feeling that "the physician is the flower of our civilization, that cheerfulness and generosity are a part of his virtues."
The optimism in Phœbe's heart tinged the blind woman's with its cheery faith. "I figure it this way," the girl said; "we'll do all we can and then if we fail there's time enough to be resigned and say it's God's will."
"Phœbe, you're a wonderful girl! Your name means shining, and that just suits you. You're doing so much for me. Why, you didn't even want to let me pay your carfare down here!"
The girl winced again. "I must learn to wince without showing it," she thought, "for after she sees she'll keep saying such things and I can't spoil it all by letting her know the truth."
Perhaps the optimistic words of Phœbe rang in the ears of the big doctor as he bent over Mother Bab's sightless eyes and began the tedious operation. His hands moved skilfully, with infinite precision, cutting to the infinitesimal fraction of an inch.
Afterward, when Mother Bab had been taken away, he sought Phœbe. "I hope," he said, "that your faith was not unwarranted, though I can't promise anything yet."
"Oh, I'm surer now than ever!" the girl said happily.
But at times, in the days of waiting, her heart ached. What if the operation had failed, what if Mother Bab would have to bear cruel disappointment? All the natural buoyancy of the girl's nature was required to bear her through the trying days of waiting. With the dawning of the day upon which the bandage should be removed and the truth known Phœbe's excitement could not be restrained.
"I can't wait!" she exclaimed. "I want to be right there when he takes it off. I want you to see me first, since David isn't here."
Long after that day it seemed to her that she could hear Mother Bab's glad, sweet voice saying, "I can see!"
"I can see!" The words were electric in their effect. Phœbe gave an ecstatic "Oh!" then hushed as her lips trembled.
"You win," the big doctor said to her.
"Oh, no, not I! You! But I knew she'd see again!"
"She sees again, but," he cautioned, "Mrs. Eby, there must be no reading or sewing or any close work to strain your eyes."
"Oh, doctor, it's enough just to see again! I can do without the reading and writing, for Phœbe, here, does all that for me. And I'll not miss the sewing. I'm glad I can potter around the garden again and plant flowers and see them and"—her voice broke—"I think it's wonderful there are men like you in the world!"
