“Yes; it is true.”
“And you have been ill? Why, ye show it. And ye want to nurse me? Well, nobody ever cared enough about me to do that before. If you knew what a miserable old sinner I am——”
“There, there, uncle! Don’t talk like that! I will be so good to you! You’ve never had anyone to be good to you, and that is all the trouble.”
“Mebbe you’re right,” he muttered, huskily. “Nobody has ever cared a rap about Joe Hicks. I’ve been alone, an’ I’ve never cared about anybody else.”
His voice choked, and he turned his head away, as if ashamed to betray any emotion.
“That is just it,” said the blind girl. “It makes us better when we know somebody cares for us and we have somebody to care for.”
“But you—you are afraid of me, Nellie? Ain’t you afraid now?”
“No; somehow I do not feel afraid of you at all—only sorry for you. And I want to help you somehow.”
“Ye can’t! It’s too late! Old Joe’s done for.”
“It is never too late, dear uncle. You were my mother’s brother, and she was such a dear, good mother to us! We loved her so!”