Miss Beam laughed. “Oh, no,” she said; “she’s not lame, really; this is only her lame day. Nor are those others blind; it is only their blind day.” I must have looked very much astonished, for she laughed again. “There you have an essential part of our system in a nutshell. In order to get a real appreciation and understanding of misfortune into these young minds we make them participants in misfortune too. In the course of the term every child has one blind day, one lame day, one deaf day, one maimed day, one dumb day. During the blind day their eyes are bandaged absolutely, and it is a point of honour not to peep. The bandage is put on overnight; they wake blind. This means that they need assistance in everything, and other children are told off to help them and lead them about. It is educative to both of them—the blind and the helpers.
“There is no privation about it,” Miss Beam continued. “Every one is very kind and it is really something of a joke, although, of course, before the day is over the reality of the affliction must be apparent even to the least thoughtful. The blind day is, of course, really the worst,” she went on, “but some of the children tell me that the dumb day is the most dreaded. There, of course, the child must exercise will-power only, for the mouth is not bandaged.... But come down into the garden and see for yourself how the children like it.”
Miss Beam led me to one of the bandaged girls, a little merry thing, whose eyes under the folds were, I felt sure, as black as ash-buds. “Here’s a gentleman come to talk to you,” said Miss Beam, and left us.
“Don’t you ever peep?” I asked, by way of an opening.
“Oh, no,” she exclaimed; “that would be cheating. But I’d no idea it was so awful to be blind. You can’t see a thing. One feels one is going to be hit by something every moment. Sitting down’s such a relief.”
“Are your guides kind to you?” I asked.
“Pretty good. Not so careful as I shall be when it’s my turn. Those that have been blind already are the best. It’s perfectly ghastly not to see. I wish you’d try!”
“Shall I lead you anywhere?” I asked.
“Oh, yes,” she said; “let’s go for a little walk. Only you must tell me about things. I shall be so glad when to-day’s over. The other bad days can’t be half as bad as this. Having a leg tied up and hopping about on a crutch is almost fun, I guess. Having an arm tied up is a little more troublesome, because you have to get your food cut up for you, and so on; but it doesn’t really matter. And as for being deaf for a day, I shan’t mind that—at least, not much. But being blind is so frightening. My head aches all the time, just from dodging things that probably aren’t there. Where are we now?”
“In the playground,” I said, “going towards the house. Miss Beam is walking up and down the terrace with a tall girl.”