Mrs. Allen rarely appeared, and the two had the room to themselves, while Bess either read aloud, or talked to Fred as she sewed on some bit of work she had brought with her. To her mother she confessed that after her usual call her mind was a blank, for she tried so hard to think of some bright, interesting conversation for the lonely, sad boy. Her patient was not an easy one to manage, for though Fred rarely complained, during the long hours he was alone he brooded over his trouble until it seemed even harder than before, and the old days of school and games were like dreams of another and a happier world. His father was at his office all day, and his mother, absorbed in her social life, had little time to give to her son; and both of them regarded the boy as well cared for if he were only supplied with all sorts of dainties, and had the most comfortable sofa and chair given up to him.
Sometimes Bess found the child so disconsolate that she knew not how to comfort him; sometimes he was moody, and slow to respond to her efforts to be entertaining, but before she left him, her womanly tact had smoothed away the frown, and forced him to laugh in spite of himself. And in the worst of his moods he was never cross to her, but always seemed grateful to her for her coming.
"If you only needn't go home at all!" he said to her one day. "It's lots more fun when you are here, Miss Bess. The rest of the time I just lie here and think till I get cross, and everything seems awful."
"Why do you 'just lie here and think,' then?" asked Bess, feeling that here was a chance to make a good suggestion. "You are strong enough now to go to drive every pleasant day. Why don't you?"
"I don't know; I don't want to," said Fred, as the quick color came to his cheeks, that were beginning to have a more healthy look.
Bess was expecting that reply, for several times before now she had tried to coax the boy into going out. But he had been ill and by himself for so long, and had dwelt so continually on himself, that he had become very sensitive about his blindness, a state of mind not at all improved by his mother's tactless attempts at consolation. With Bess he could and did talk freely, but with no one else, and he shrank from meeting any one who called, and obstinately refused to see his boy friends, although Bess urged him to let them come.
It was such an unnatural life for the boy, who, save in the one respect, was rapidly returning to his old strength. Once let him break over this sensitive reserve, and persuade himself to go out and enjoy the boys, and Bess was sure that his life would be easier to bear.
To-day they were in their usual place by the fire. Bess was sewing, and Fred was by her side, playing with the long loops of ribbon that hung from her belt. Suddenly the girl rose and went to the window.
"Where are you going, Miss Bess?"
"I am going to run away from you, you obstinate boy. I want to see your mother a minute. I'll come back, so don't you worry."