gly, as she tiptoed to the window and sat
down on the broad, low sill. "I am afraid Betty will hear us talking
about her. The doctor has just been here, and he says--oh, Eugenia, it
is too terrible to tell--he says he is afraid that Betty is going
_blind_!"

The tears stood in the Little Colonel's eyes. "You know that people do
lose their sight sometimes when they have the measles, and her eyes have
been the worst part of it from the start. The night before the measles
broke out on her she read till nearly morning by candle-light, because
she was restless and couldn't go to sleep. Of course that made them
worse."

"_Blind!_" echoed Eugenia, closing her own eyes a moment on the bright
summer world without, and feeling a chill run over her, as she realised
what black dungeon walls those five letters could build around a life.

"Was the doctor sure, Lloyd? Can't something be done?"

"Of co'se he wasn't _suah_. I heard him tell mothah that he wouldn't
give up fighting for her sight as long as there was a shadow of a chance
to save it, but he advised her to send for an oculist to consult with
him, and she's just now telephoned to the city for one."

"Does Betty know it?"

"She knows that there is dangah of her losing her sight, and is tryin'
so hahd to be quiet and patient."

Eugenia laid down her book, feeling faint and sick. For a long time
after Lloyd and Joyce had left her she sat idly playing with the curtain
cord, thinking over what they had told her. Presently she tiptoed
up-stairs to her room. She stood a moment outside Betty's door,
listening, for Betty was talking to Eliot, and she wanted to hear what a
person with such a prospect staring her in the face would have to say.

"There are lots of beautiful things in the world to think about, Eliot,"
Betty was saying bravely, in her sweet, cheery little voice.

"'Specially when you've lived in the country and have all the big
outdoors to remember. Now while I'm so hot I love to count up all the
cool things I can remember. I like to pretend that I'm down in the
orchard, way early in the morning, with a fresh breeze blowing through
the apple-blossoms and the dewdrops shining on every blade of grass. Oh,
it smells so fresh and sweet and delicious! Now I'm in the corn-fields
and the tall green corn is rustling in the wind, and the morning-glories
climb up every stalk and shake the dew out of their purple bells. Now I
can hear the bucket splash down in the well, an