The doctor, too, obviously, by the keen, professional alertness that transfigured his face at that moment, had eyes and thoughts but for that same blind boy over by the window.
"Well, Keith, here's Dr. Stewart to see you boy."
"Dr.—Stewart?" Keith was on his feet, startled, uncertain.
"Yes, Dr. Stewart.'" Susan repeated the name with clear emphasis. "He was in town an' jest came up to look at you. He's a big, kind doctor, dear, an' you'll like him, I know." At the door Susan turned to the doctor. "An' when—when you're done, sir, if you'll jest come down them stairs to the kitchen, please—TO THE KITCHEN," she repeated, hurrying out before Keith could remonstrate.
Down in the kitchen Susan took a pan of potatoes to peel—and when, long hours later, after the doctor had come downstairs, had talked with Mr. Burton, and had gone, Susan went to get those potatoes to boil for dinner, she found that all but two of them had been peeled and peeled and peeled, until there was nothing left but—peelings.
Susan was peeling the next to the last potato when the doctor came down to the kitchen.
"Well?" She was on her feet instantly.
The doctor's face was grave, yet his eyes were curiously alight. They seemed to be looking through and beyond Susan.
"I don't know. I THINK I have good news, but I'm not—sure."
"But there's a chance?"