"Yes," came the answer, so low that she could scarcely hear it.
"Wouldn't you like to walk like the rest of us?" continued Eloise.
Barbara writhed under the torturing question. "My mind can walk," she said, with difficulty; "my soul isn't lame."
The tone made Eloise turn quickly—and hate herself bitterly for her awkwardness. She saw that an apology would only make a bad matter worse, so she went straight on.
"Doctor Conrad is very skilful," she continued. "In the city, he is one of the few really great surgeons. He told me that he would like to make an examination and see if an operation would not do away with the crutches. He thinks there may be a good chance. If there is, will you take it?"
"Thank you," said Barbara, almost inaudibly. Her voice had sunk to a whisper and she was very pale. "I do not mean to seem ungrateful, but it is impossible."
"Impossible!" repeated Eloise. "Why?"
"Because of father," explained Barbara. Her colour was coming back slowly now. "I am all he has, my work supplies his needs, and I dare not take the risk."
"Is that the only reason?"
Barbara nodded.