y else
would have borne it. What other trouble has our dear father, Nell? God
wouldn't be so cruel as to give him another trouble."

"God is never cruel," said Helen, a beautiful, steadfast light shining
in her eyes. "I couldn't let go the faith that God is always good. But
father--oh, Polly, Polly, I am dreadfully afraid that father is going
to lose his sight."

"What?" said Polly. "_What?_ father lose his sight? No, I'm not going to
listen to you, Nell. You needn't talk like that. It's perfectly horrid
of you. I'll go away at once and ask him. Father! Why, his eyes are as
bright as possible. I'll go this minute and ask him."

"No, don't do that, Polly. I would never have spoken if I wasn't really
sure, and I don't think it would be right to ask him, or to speak about
it, until he tells us about it himself. But I began to guess it a little
bit lately, when I saw how anxious mother seemed. For she was anxious,
although she was the brightest of all bright people. And after her death
father said I was to look through some of her letters; and I found one
or two which told me that what I suspected was the case, and father
may--indeed, he probably will--become quite blind, by-and-by. That
was--that was--What's the matter, Polly?"

"Nothing," said Polly. "You needn't go on--you needn't say any more.
It's a horrid world, nothing is worth living for; pie-crust, nor
housekeeping, nor nothing. I hate the world, and every one in it, and I
hate _you_ most of all, Nell, for your horrid news. Father blind! No, I
won't believe it; it's all a lie."

"Poor Polly," said Helen. "Don't believe it, dear, I wish _I_ didn't. I
think I know a little bit how you feel. I'm not so hot and hasty and
passionate as you, and oh, I'm not half, nor a quarter, so clever, but
still, I do know how you feel; I--Polly, you startle me."

"Only you don't hate me at this moment," said Polly. "And I--don't I
hate you, just! There, you can say anything after that. I know I'm a
wretch--I know I'm hopeless. Even mother would say I was hopeless if
she saw me now, hating you, the kindest and best of sisters. But I do,
yes, I do, most heartily. So you see you aren't like me, Helen."

"I certainly never hated any one," said Helen. "But you are excited,
Polly, and this news is a shock to you. We won't talk about it one way
or other, now, and we'll try as far as possible not to think of it,
except in so far as it ought to make us anxious to carry out mother's
pl