have to wear blue goggles, perhaps; won't that be funny?"

And while she was pouring out all the comfortable words she could think
of, Rose was softly bathing the eyes and dabbing the hot forehead with
lavender-water, as her patient lay quiet with a look on his face that
grieved her sadly.

"Homer was blind, and so was Milton, and they did something to be
remembered by, in spite of it," he said, as if to himself, in a solemn
tone, for even the blue goggles did not bring a smile.

"Papa had a picture of Milton and his daughters writing for him. It
was a very sweet picture, I thought," observed Rose in a serious voice,
trying to meet the sufferer on his own ground.

"Perhaps I could study if someone read and did the eye part. Do you
suppose I could, by and by?" he asked, with a sudden ray of hope.

"I dare say, if your head is strong enough. This sunstroke, you know, is
what upset you, and your brain needs rest, the doctor says."

"I'll have a talk with the old fellow next time he comes, and find out
just what I may do; then I shall know where I am. What a fool I was that
day to be stewing my brains and letting the sun glare on my book till
the letters danced before me! I see 'em now when I shut my eyes; black
balls bobbing round, and stars and all sorts of queer things. Wonder if
all blind people do?"

"Don't think about them; I'll go on reading, shall I? We shall come
to the exciting part soon, and then you'll forget all this," suggested
Rose.

"No, I never shall forget. Hang the old 'Revolution'! I don't want to
hear another word of it. My head aches, and I'm hot. Oh, wouldn't I like
to go for a pull in the 'Stormy Petrel!"' and poor Mac tossed about as
if he did not know what to do with himself.

"Let me sing, and perhaps you'll drop off; then the day will seem
shorter," said Rose, taking up a fan and sitting down beside him.

"Perhaps I shall; I didn't sleep much last night, and when I did I
dreamed like fun. See here, you tell the people that I know, and it's
all right, and I don't want them to talk about it or howl over me.
That's all; now drone away, and I'll try to sleep. Wish I could for a
year, and wake up cured."

"Oh, I wish, I wish you could!"

Rose said it so fervently that Mac was moved to grope for her apron and
hold on to a corner of it, as if it was comfortable to feel her near
him. But all he said was,

"You are a good little soul, Rosy. Give us 'The Birks'; that is a drowsy
one that al