Dawn Eleanor Porter (free novels to read txt) 📖

lots of funnystories, and there were always her rhymes and jingles. She had a newone every day, sometimes two or three a day.

There was no subject too big or too little for Susan to put intorhyme. Susan said that something inside of her was a gushing siphon ofpoems, anyway, and she just had to get them out of her system. And shetold Keith that spring always made the siphon gush worse than ever,for some reason. She didn't know why.

Keith suspected that she said this by way of an excuse for repeatingso many of her verses to him just now. But Keith was not deceived. Hehad not forgotten what Susan had said to Mrs. McGuire in the kitchenthat day; and he knew very well that all this especial attention tohim was only Susan's way of trying to help him "wait."

CHAPTER VI

LIGHTS OUT

And so Keith waited, through the summer and into another winter. AndApril came. Keith was not listening to Susan's rhymes and jingles now,nor was he tramping through the woods in search of the first sign ofspring. Both eyes had become badly affected now. Keith knew that and—

THE FOG HAD COME. Keith had seen the fog for several days before heknew what it was. He had supposed it to be really—fog. Then one dayhe said to Susan:

"Where's the sun? We haven't had any BRIGHT sun for days and days—just this horrid old foggy fog."

"Fog? Why, there ain't any fog!" exclaimed Susan. "The sun is asbright—-" She stopped short. Keith could not see her face veryclearly—Keith was not seeing anything clearly these days. "Nonsense,Keith, of course, the sun is shinin'!" snapped Susan. "Now don't getsilly notions in your head!" Then she turned and hurried from theroom.

And Keith knew. And he knew that Susan knew.

Keith did not mention the fog to his father—dad did not likedisagreeable subjects. But somebody must have mentioned it—Susan,perhaps. At all events, before the week was out Keith went with hisfather again to Boston.

It was a sorry journey. Keith did not need to go to Boston. Keith knewnow. There was no one who could tell him anything. Dad might laugh andjoke and call attention to everything amusing that he wanted to—itwould make no difference. Besides, as if he could not hear the shakein dad's voice under all the fun, and as if he could not feel thetremble in dad's hand on his shoulder!

Boston was the same dreary round of testing, talk, and questions,hushed voices and furtive glances, hurried trips from place to place;only this time it was all sharper, shorter, more decisive, and therewas no operation. It was not the time for that now, the doctors said.Moreover, this time dad did not laugh, or joke, or even talk on thehomeward journey. But that, too, made no difference. Keith alreadyknew.

He knew so well that he did not question him at all. But if he had notknown, he would have known from Susan the next day. For he found Susancrying three times the next forenoon, and each time she snapped out soshort and sharp about something so entirely foreign from what he askedher that he would have known that Susan knew.

Keith did wonder how many months it would be. Some way he had an ideait would be very few now. As long as it was coming he wished it wouldcome, and come quick. This waiting business—On the whole he was gladthat Susan was cross, and that his father spent his days shut away inhis own room with orders that he was not to be disturbed. For, as fortalking about this thing—

It was toward the last of July that Keith discovered how indistinctwere growing the outlines of the big pictures on the wall at the endof the hall. Day by day he had to walk nearer and nearer before hecould see them at all. He wondered just how many steps would bring himto the wall itself. He was tempted once to count them—but he couldnot bring himself to do that; so he knew then that in his heart he didnot want to know just how many days it would be before—

But there came a day when he was but two steps away. He told himselfit would be in two days then. But it did not come in two days. It didnot come in a week. Then, very suddenly, it came.

He woke up one morning to find it quite dark. For a minute he thoughtit WAS dark; then the clock struck seven—and it was August.

Something within Keith seemed to snap then. The long-pent strain ofmonths gave way. With one agonized cry of "Dad, it's come—it's come!"he sprang from the bed, then stood motionless in the middle of theroom, his arms outstretched. But when his father and Susan reached theroom he had fallen to the floor in a dead faint.

It was some weeks before Keith stood upright on his feet again. Hisillness was a long and serious one. Late in September, Mrs. McGuire,hanging out her clothes, accosted Susan over the back-yard fence.

"I heard down to the store last night that Keith Burton was goin' toget well."

"Of course he's goin' to get well," retorted Susan with emphasis. "Iknew he was, all the time."

"All the same, I think it's a pity he is." Mrs. McGuire's lips cametogether a bit firmly. "He's stone blind, I hear, an' my John says—"

"Well, what if he is?" demanded Susan, almost fiercely. "You wouldn'tkill the child, would you? Besides SEEIN' is only one of hisfacilities. He's got all the rest left. I reckon he'll show you he cando somethin' with them."

Mrs. McGuire shook her head mournfully.

"Poor boy, poor boy! How's he feel himself? Has he got his senses, hisreal senses yet?"

"He's just beginnin' to." The harshness in Susan's voice betrayed herdifficulty in controlling it. "Up to now he hain't sensed anything,much. Of course, part of the time he hain't known ANYTHING—jest laythere in a stupid. Then, other times he's jest moaned of-of the dark—always the dark.

"At first he—when he talked—seemed to be walkin' through the woods;an'