Then Flaxie turned to her mother.
“Why, mamma, Willy Patten threw kisses to me when he was a boy, and wasn’t my cousin!”
But Mrs. Gray did not listen either. She too was looking at Preston. Mr. Garland had just been at the house talking with them about the dear child’s eyes, and she and Dr. Papa were heavy at heart. Flaxie did not know of this, but she felt vaguely that something was wrong.
Milly felt it too, and almost wished she had gone home with her father in the afternoon train.
“What has mamma been crying about?” thought Julia. “I’m afraid Preston has been a naughty boy, for she and papa have looked very sober ever since Mr. Garland was here.”
Preston himself understood the case a little better, and was saying to himself: “I guess there’s something awful the matter with my eyes, or father wouldn’t have told Mr. Garland he should take me to New York.”
There were cold turkey, and pop-overs, and honey for supper, but it wasn’t a pleasant meal; there was no chatting and laughing; and Dr. Papa hurried away from the table as soon as possible to go to see a sick lady up town.
It was some time before the children were told the dreadful news that Preston was losing his sight. They wondered the next week why he should be allowed to stay out of school and play, and why his father, who was always kind to him, should be so very gentle now, almost as gentle as he was to little Phil.
One day Dr. Gray took Preston to New York to see an oculist. An oculist is a physician who treats diseases of the eye.
When Dr. A. called Preston up to him, and looked at the beautiful eyes over which a veil was slowly stealing, he shook his head.