“What is it, Jack!” she said quickly.
“Oh, Gwen, ain’t it just great?” gasped Jack. “The doctor’s gone and they sent me up to bring you your eyes, they said, because I took them away. My, but we’re glad!”
Gwen clutched the arm impetuously thrown around her. “Jack, is it true?” she whispered.
“True! Doctor Amberton said so! You’re to have the bandages off in a week—you’re not going to be blind, not one bit!” said Jack, choking.
Gwen fell back, burying her face in the pillows. If ever there was a sincere “Thank God!” it was the one that filled the poor child’s heart, but could not pass beyond the happy sobs rising in her throat.
Jack was frightened. “Have I killed you this time, Gwen?” he asked faintly.
Gwen turned back again and caught him in her arms. “Killed me! My darling old Jack, you have made me feel as though I should never die! I believe I have been dead all these horrible weeks since New Year’s.”
“They’re all coming up in a little while to tell you how glad they are—they’re all down in the back parlor nearly out of their minds, they’re so glad,” said Jack, much relieved to find Gwen unharmed.
“Call Hummie, Jack, and then go tell them to come on—I can’t wait,” said Gwen.
Before Hummie had recovered from the joy of Gwen’s reprieve sufficiently to make her fine, as Gwen had intended to be made, the trooping of the entire family up the stairs fell on her happy ears. She knelt in the bed in her long crimson wrapper, and held out her arms speechlessly for a universal embrace.