Jack announced that he was going out to see if he could not pick up some money that evening. Frank tried to dissuade him, but the lame boy was determined, and he finally departed with the guitar.
Being left with the blind girl, Merry told her stories for more than an hour. She listened to them, holding onto one of his hands. Outside the wind came up and rattled around the building, slamming a shutter at intervals and moaning at the corners like a creature in pain.
“Hear the wind!” Nellie whispered, after a time. “How it sobs and cries! It seems as if some one with a broken heart were lost out there in the night.”
“Don’t think of such things, Nellie,” urged Frank. “You make yourself nervous and sad, and you will not get well so quick. To-morrow the sun will shine.”
“I cannot see it.”
“You shall soon.”
There was a clattering sound on the stairs, and Frank sprang up quickly, turning toward the door.
“What is it?” asked the blind girl, still clinging to him.
“It is Jack! Hear his crutch.”
“Yes; but why is he stumbling upstairs so fast? Hark! Somebody is following him! I hear heavy steps!”