There were four grown people left in the house, and five children beside Milly; still it seemed lonesome, for everybody was thinking about Preston, and wondering if the doctor would hurt him very much.
“He can’t see what the doctor is doing to him,” said Flaxie to Milly; “I shouldn’t think God would let my brother be blind, my good brother Preston!”
“God knows what is best,” replied Milly, meekly.
“Yes, but, oh dear, I feel so bad! Let’s go out in the kitchen and see what Dodo is doing.”
Grandma, mamma, and Julia looked sadder than ever to hear Flaxie talk in this way and run out of the parlor crying.
Dora stood by the kitchen-table ironing very cheerfully.
“Dodo,” said Flaxie, “what shall we do to have a good time?”
“Such a funny child as you are, Miss Flaxie,” said the girl, trying another flatiron; “haven’t you everything to your mind, and haven’t you always had ever since you were born?”
“No, indeed, Dodo,” said Flaxie, mournfully, breaking off a corner from a sheet of sponge-cake which stood cooling in the window; “I don’t want my brother to be blind.”
“Well, but you can’t help it, though. So you’d better not go round the house, moping in this way and worrying your mother,” returned Dora, making a quick plunge with her flatiron into the folds of a calico dress.