and she was sure she knew how Maria felt.

"She is blind, and I was lame; but it is the same kind of a feeling. O,
how I wish I could help her!"

Dotty was as sorry for Maria as she knew how to be, but she could not be
as sorry as Prudy was; for she had never had any trouble greater than a
sore throat.

"I don't see why the tears don't come into my eyes as easy as they do
into Prudy's," thought she, trying to squeeze out a salt drop; "Mrs.
Brooks'll think I don't care a speck; but I do care."

As for wee Fly, she took Maria's blindness to heart about as much as she
did the murder of the Hebrew children off in Judea.

"Pitiful 'bout her seeingness; but I wished I had such a beauful dog!"

Aunt Madge was struck with the exalted expression of Maria's face. The
child was only thirteen, but suffering had made her look much older.

"My child," said she, putting her arm around the little girl, and
drawing her towards her, "I know you see a great deal with your mind,
even though your eyes are shut. Now, do tell me all about your
misfortune, and how it happened, for I came on purpose to hear."

"Yes, we camed to purpose to hear," said Fly, from the foot-board of the
bed, where she had perched and prattled every moment since she came in.
"I founded Maria, and then I went up to her, and says I, 'Doggie,
doggie!'"

"That was a pretty way to speak to her, I should think," said Dotty;
"but can't you just please to hush while auntie is talking?"

"As near as I can tell the story," said Mrs. Brooks, rattling the poor
old coal-stove,--for she always had to be moving something else, as well
as her nose, when she talked,--"she lost her sight by studying too
hard, and then getting cold in her eyes."

"She was always a master hand to study," put in Mr. Brooks.

Maria looked as if she wanted to run and hide. She did not like to have
her father praise her before people.

"Yes," said Mrs. Brooks, setting a chair straight; "and by and by the
_leds_ began to draw together, and she couldn't keep 'em open; and there
was such a pain in her eyes, too, that I had to be up nights, bathing
'em in all kinds of messes."

"_Don't_ her nose jiggle?" whispered Fly to Horace.

"Of course you took her to a good physician?"

"Well, yes; we thought he was good. We went to three, off and on, but
she kept growing worse and worse. It was about the time her father was
hurt, and we spent an awful sight on her, till we couldn't spend any
more."