"Dear Jesus, please always take care of Peggy, and remember she is blind."
[CHAPTER III]
THE DOCTOR'S PRESCRIPTION
A MONTH had elapsed since Peggy's accident, and the little girl, though about again, had not recovered her usual health and spirits. Her mother watched her with loving solicitude, noting how shattered her nerves seemed to be, for she started at any sudden sound and dreaded being left alone. The doctor pronounced her to be suffering from the effects of the shock to her nervous system, prescribed a complete change of air, and said time would work a cure.
"How can we send her away for a change?" Mrs. Pringle asked her husband despairingly. "It is impossible."
"I wish you could take her to the seaside for a few weeks, Margaret," Mr. Pringle responded, looking much troubled. "But I really do not see how it can be managed—where the money is to come from, I mean."
"Never mind, father," Peggy said quickly, "I am sure I shall be well soon. I am a lot better, really."
"Do you feel so, darling?" he questioned, as he drew her towards him, and anxiously scrutinised her face.
Then, as she assured him she did, he kissed her gently, an expression of deep pain and regret on his own countenance.
It grieved Mr. Pringle that he could not afford his little daughter the change of air which the doctor had prescribed, and he went off to give a music lesson with a very heavy heart. When he returned, an hour later, upon opening the front door the sound of a man's hearty laugh fell upon his ears, and almost immediately Peggy, with a flush of excitement on her cheeks, came out of the sitting-room, her sensitive ears having warned her of his arrival, and whispered: