"Where's he live?"
"I don't know. Where she does, I s'pose. I don't know where that is.
She's here most of the time, and—"
"Is he a real big one?—a really, truly big one?"
"Yes, yes, I guess so." Keith had fallen wearily back in his chair, his strength spent. "Dad said he was one of the biggest in the country. And of course lots of—of blind people go there, and she sees them. Only she says she can't bear to see them, that she won't look at them. And—and she shan't come here—she shan't, Susan, to look at me, and—"
But Susan was not listening now. With chin up-tilted and a new fire in her eyes, she had turned toward the kitchen door.
Two days later, on her way to the store, Susan spied Dorothy Parkman across the street. Without hesitation or ceremony she went straight across and spoke to her.
"Is it true that your father is a big occultist, one of the biggest there is?" she demanded.
"A—what?" Dorothy frowned slightly.
"Occultist—doctors folks' eyes, you know. Is he? I heard he was."
"Oh! Y-yes—yes, he is." Miss Dorothy was giggling a bit now.