Fancy refusing Mr. Meadowcroft anything! What would Betty say? But the moments were flying and time was very precious.
“It would spoil everything if you did,” she declared plaintively. “Please, Mr. Meadowcroft, am I facing right now? Stopping has sort of mixed me up.”
She hadn’t moved, except to turn her head, and being reassured, said a gay farewell and went on. Meadowcroft stood and watched her. As she went on, she walked more rapidly and steadily. The square which the post office faced was paved with concrete. He saw that she knew when she stepped upon it and that she reached out her hand and felt the side of the stone watering-trough. But his heart seemed to stop as she turned boldly at a right angle and started across the street. Suppose a stranger started to drive into the square at this moment!
But no one appeared, stranger or otherwise. Rose got safely across the street and disappeared, apparently entering the apothecary shop. He hoped she wasn’t going to get some dangerous drug to trifle with. But they wouldn’t, of course, take any chances with a child of her age. And with a sigh of relief Meadowcroft turned and retraced the way to his window in the second story.
Rose Harrow did not, however, enter the apothecary’s but went into the hardware shop next door. Here, she created a greater sensation. Trade was not brisk at this hour—other merchants closed their shops from twelve to one—and George Pogany had been standing by his screen door gazing idly out into the square when he suddenly saw Rose Harrow in the midst of it making straight for the point where he stood. His heart leaped to his throat at the thought that the girl’s sight had been restored. He and her father had been boys together and schoolmates, and Betty and Rose had been intimate friends, and it did not seem strange that she should run down to his shop to bear the glad news.
But she stumbled at the step and put out her hands to feel her way. He rushed out and helped her in with great but very gentle concern.
“Rosy Harrow!” he exclaimed. “My stars! Whatever are you up to, child, way down here and all alone?”
Rose laughed in gay triumph.
“O, I came alone on purpose to see you, Mr. Pogany!” she cried. “Don’t ever tell. It’s a dead secret. Nobody knows it. I have never been one step alone out of doors since last Christmas, and this is good half a mile, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Rosy, good that, but——”