"Why, Rob, what do you mean? When did he come home? Who told you?"
"Phil told me just now. He came home late last night, and Phil met his father to-day. The trouble's all gone into his opposite nerve, Phil said, and they say he'll be blind forever. Isn't it awful, cousin Bess?"
"Indeed it is, my boy," said Bess, too much shocked by Rob's tidings even to smile over his "opposite nerve." "But I don't see what this can have to do with his eyes. I do hope there is some mistake."
"I'm afraid there isn't," said Rob, shaking his head doubtfully. "You see, Phil saw Mr. Allen just this noon."
"I know; but his eyes have never troubled him, have they?"
"Not much. A year ago, I guess 'twas, he stayed out of school about a week, 'cause it hurt him to read. But perhaps it isn't so bad as they think."
"Poor Fred!" said Bess, drawing her little cousin closer to her side, as she thought of the suffering of this other boy. "If this is true, he has a sad, sad life before him. You boys, Rob, must do all you can to help him, when he gets strong enough to see you again. You can do so much for him if you only try. I know my boy will, won't he?"
"Why, yes. But how can we, cousin Bess?"
"In ever so many little ways. Go to see him, read to him, talk to him, only not about things he can't do; get him to go out with you,—anything to keep him from feeling he is left out in the cold, and you boys get on just as well without him."
They walked on in silence for a moment, and then Bess asked,—