"It feels very nice," said Brum, smoothing the silk wistfully. "Yes, I can almost feel the blue."
Later on, when his father, a little brightened, had gone off to the exigent boot factory, Brum even asked to see the presents. The blind retain these visual phrases.
Zillah described them to him one by one as he handled them. When it came to the books it dawned on her that she could not tell him the titles.
"They have such beautiful pictures," she gushed evasively.
The boy burst into tears.
"Yes, but I shall never be able to read them," he sobbed.
"Yes, you will."
"No, I won't."
"Then I'll read them to you," she cried, with sudden resolution.
"But you can't read."