But it was not all work for Keith these summer days. There were games and picnics and berry expeditions with the boys and girls, all of which he hailed with delight—one did not have to read, or even study wavering lines and figures, on picnics or berrying expeditions! And that WAS a relief. To be sure, there was nearly always Mazie, and if there was Mazie, there was bound to be Dorothy. And Dorothy had said— Some way he could never see Dorothy without remembering what she did say on that day he had come home from Uncle Joe Harrington's.
Not that he exactly blamed her, either. For was not he himself acting as if he felt the same way and did not like to look at blind persons? Else why did he so persistently keep away from Uncle Joe now? Not once, since that first day, had he been up to see the poor old blind man. And before—why, before he used to go several times a week.
CHAPTER IV
SCHOOL
And so the summer passed, and September came. And September brought a new problem—school. And school meant books.
Two days before school began Keith sought Susan Betts in the kitchen.
"Say, Susan, that was awfully good johnny-cake we had this morning."
Susan picked up another plate to dry and turned toward her visitor. Her face was sternly grave, though there was something very like a twinkle in her eye.
"There ain't no cookies, if that's what you're wantin'," she said.
"Aw, Susan, I never said a word about cookies."