“Yes.”
“For to see old Jerry's eye?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it ain't no use for you to go.”
“Did his eye get well of itself?” inquired the doctor.
“No, it didn't git well of itself,” replied the woman. “It never would have got well of itself. Ole Jerry's been set-tin' around with that eye tied up ever since the day that he thrashed out his wheat. He'd a-been blind in it all the rest of his life if it hadn't a-been for the School-teacher.”
The doctor turned around in his saddle.
“What did the School-teacher do to him?” he said.
“He cured him,” replied the miller.
The doctor had ridden past the mill before he stopped. Now he rode hack. The miller stood on the porch before the door. The doctor sat on his horse in the road, the loose bridle rein over his crooked arm, his good hand resting heavily on the pommel of the saddle.