"Oh, Bob, I'm glad you've come back! I was horrid."
And the reconciliation was complete.
Bessie's errand was quickly accomplished, for Fuzz was testing the hardness of the front door, and it seemed prudent to withdraw before he forced a passage through one of the panels. So, promising to come down again the next afternoon, to superintend the moving, the two cousins took their departure.
The next afternoon saw Fred settled in the Carters' parlor, with Fuzz asleep at his feet. The little animal, after his first resentment of this intrusion on the family circle, seemed to realize that Fred needed his especial care and protection. He attached himself to the boy's side, whining gently for attention, and occasionally giving a pleading scratch with his little paw, when the desired petting failed to be given. His snappish ways were laid aside, and he even allowed Dominie Sampson, the collie, to come and rub against Fred, without giving vent to a single snarl.
When the carriage stopped at the door, and Bess had led the boy into the house, Mrs. Carter had met him with a motherly kindness that made him feel at home with her at once. Fred could not see the tears that came into her eyes at sight of the change in him, but the warm kiss on his cheek, and the gentle "We are so glad to have you here," told the story.
Those three days were the beginning of a new life to Fred. At home, he had moped and meditated. His parents, by their every word, reminded him of his trouble, and made him feel in countless little ways, well meant though they were, that he was not like other boys, not what he used to be. Here it was all so different. Beyond the little necessary help that Bess gave him so easily and pleasantly, there was nothing to suggest to him his blindness. Bess read to him, played simple memory games with him, or, with his hand drawn through her arm, they walked up and down the long hall, talking and laughing gayly, while Fuzz tagged at their heels. He held Mrs. Carter's skein of yarn while she wound it, and in many little ways began to live more like a natural boy, less like a wax doll.
The evenings were the pleasantest times. Then Mr. and Mrs. Carter were deep in their cribbage, by the lamp; and Bess sat in a low chair in front of the crackling fire, with Fred on the rug at her feet, one arm in her lap, and his head on his arm, while she stroked his hair, and told him all sorts of bright, merry stories about the places and people that she had seen. For Bess had travelled through nearly every State in the Union, and had observed and remembered much that she had seen, so, with the flashes of fun and bits of pathos that she knew so well how to give to her descriptions, she was no mean story-teller.
But the three days were soon over, and on Sunday, the last day of Fred's visit, the gathering twilight found him pacing up and down the room with Bess, now talking, now taking a few turns in silence.
Suddenly Bess said,—
"Fred, you are going to church with me to-night."