"No, I didn't ask. The one with crutches is named Haynes and that nice chap with the wounded arm, the one I was talking to, is named Roberts. You seemed to find your blind man the most appealing."
"Oh, I did. There was something about him that seemed to wring my heart."
"Probably your mother or Mrs. Teaness can tell you his story," Lillian replied.
The next afternoon when the girls went again on their errand of mercy they found the patients looking for their coming. Eleanor and Alicia, already busied in fifty ways, were pleased to be relieved of this task of lightening the long hours for their convalescent guests, and turned their attention to other matters, while Anita gave herself up to furnishing music, and Lillian played games with one or two who were able to be occupied in some such way. At the end of an hour the music came to a conclusion and Anita went over to sit down by the man who had so interested her the day before. A small vase by the patient's side held the little bouquet she had previously brought him. He touched it gently as she sat down by him.
"You see I have them still," he said. "They are a great comfort."
"You shall have more when they are gone," Anita assured him. "What would you like to have me read? The daily paper, a short story, a magazine article?"
"One of the boys was good enough to read the paper to me this morning. I think I should like you to choose something like a good stirring story. I can hear quite well now, though for a time I did not."
"Are you suffering much?" Anita asked, compassionately.
"Very little now. It is only the eyes which bother and the dread that there will never be any light again for me."
"You are so patient. I couldn't be," cried Anita, impetuously. "I do so hope and pray that you will be cured. There is hope, isn't there?"