“And you’re the one who is friendly with the blind man?”
“Oh, you mean that blind man on the corner by the bank building?” the girl asked eagerly.
Bertha nodded dispiritedly.
“I think he’s a dear. I think he’s one of the nicest men I’ve ever known. He has the most sane outlook on life. He isn’t soured at all. Lots of people who are blind would shut themselves off from the world, but he doesn’t. He seems to be more aware of the world now that he’s blind than he possibly could have been when he had his eyesight. And I think he’s really happy, although, of course, his existence is very much circumscribed. That is, I mean physically and so far as contacts are concerned.”
“I suppose so,” Bertha admitted without enthusiasm.
Josephine Dell warmed to her subject. “Of course, the man was relatively uneducated and poor to start with. If he had only learned to read by touch, had started studying and given himself an education — but he couldn’t do it. He simply couldn’t afford to. He was absolutely penniless and destitute.”
“I understand.”
“Then he got lucky. He made a very fortunate investment in oil, and now he can live very much as he pleases; but he feels that it’s too late, that he’s too old.”
“I suppose so,” Bertha agreed. “You’re the one who sent him the music box?”
“Yes — but I didn’t want him to know that. I just wanted it to come to him from a friend. I was afraid he wouldn’t accept that expensive a gift from a working girl, although I can afford it now very well. At the time I started paying for it, I felt that I couldn’t.”