CHAPTER XX
OUT OF STEP WITH THE TIMES
“No,” Sadie told Helen, afterward, “I am very sure that poor Lurcher man doesn’t drink. Some says he does; but you never notice it on him. It’s just his eyes.”
“His eyes?” queried Helen, wonderingly.
“Yes. He’s sort of blind. His eyelids keep fluttering all the time. He can’t control them. And, if you notice, he usually lifts up the lid of one eye with his finger before he makes one of his base-runs for the next post. Chee! I’d hate to be like that.”
“The poor old man! And can nothing be done for it?”
“Plenty, I reckon. But who’s goin’ to pay for it? Not him—he ain’t got it to pay. We all has our troubles down here, Helen.”
The girls had come down from the home of Sadie again, and Helen was preparing to leave her friend.
“Aren’t there places to go in the city to have one’s eyes examined? Free hospitals, I mean?”
“Sure! And they got Lurcher to one, once. But all they give him was a prescription for glasses, and it would cost a lot to get ’em. So it didn’t do him no good.”