Dawn Eleanor Porter (free novels to read txt) 📖

her relatives, going to school. Thedoctor's home has become practically a sanatorium—not the mostdesirable place in the world to bring up a young daughter in, I shouldsay. Let's see, how old is Miss Dorothy?"

"Sixteen, Keith says. I asked him one day. She's about his age."

"Hm-m; well, however that may be, Susan, I don't see how we can helpourselves very well. I fancy Miss Dorothy'll still—tag along," hefinished whimsically.

"Maybe, an' then maybe not," mumbled Susan darkly, as she turned away.

For two days after this Susan's kitchen, and even Keith himself,showed almost neglect; persistently and systematically Susan wasrunning "down street" every hour or two—ostensibly on errands, yetshe bought little. She spent most of her time tramping through thestreets and stores, scrutinizing especially the face of every younggirl she met.

On the afternoon of the second day she met Dorothy Parkman coming outof the post-office.

"Well, I've got you at last," she sighed, "though I'm free to confess

I was beginnin' to think I never would see you."

"Oh, yes, about Keith," cried the girl joyously. "Isn't it splendid!

I'm so glad! And he's going home with us right away, you know."

"Yes, I know. An' that's what—that is, I wanted—" stammered Susan,growing red in her misery. "Oh, Miss Dorothy, you WOULD do anythingfor that poor blind boy, wouldn't you?"

"Why, y-yes, of course," faltered Dorothy, stammering in her turn.

"I knew you would. Then please don't go home with your father thistime."

"Don't go home—with—my father!" exclaimed the girl, in puzzledwonder.

"No. Because if you do—That is—Oh, I know it's awful for me to saythis, but I've got to do it for Keith. You see, if you go,—Keithwon't."

"If I go, he—I don't think—I quite understand." The girl drew back alittle haughtily. Her face showed a painful flush.

"No, no, of course you don't! An' please, PLEASE don't look likethat," begged Susan. "It's jest this. I found out. I wormed it out ofhim the other day—why he won't let you come to see him. He says thatonce, long ago, you said how you couldn't bear to look at blindpeople, an'—"

"Oh, I never, never could have said such a cruel thing to—to a blindboy," interposed the girl.

"He wasn't blind then. He said he wasn't. But, it was when he was'fraid he was goin' to be blind; an' he see you an' Mazie Sanborn atthe foot of Harrington Hill, one day. It was just after the old manhad got blind, an' Keith had been up to see him. It seems that Keithwas worryin' then for fear HE was goin' to be blind."

"He WAS?"

"Yes—things blurred, an' all that. Well, at the foot of the hill hesee you an' Mazie, an' you shuddered at his goin' up to see Mr.Harrington, an' said how could he bear to look at folks that wasblind. That YOU couldn't. An' he never forgot it. Bein' worried forfear he himself was goin' blind, you see, he was especially acceptableto anything like that."

"Oh, but I—I—At home I always did hate to see all the poor blindpeople that came to see father," she stammered. "But it—it was onlybecause I felt so bad—for them. And that's one reason why fatherdoesn't keep me at home any more. He says—But, about Keith—I—Ididn't mean to—" Dorothy came to a helpless pause.

"Yes, I know. You didn't mean to hurt him," nodded Susan. "But it didhurt him. An' now he always thinks of it, if he knows you're 'round.You see, worse'n anything else, he hates to be stared at or to havefolks think he's different. There ain't anything I can ever say to himthat makes him half so happy as to act as if he wa'n't blind."

"Yes, I—see," breathed Dorothy, her eyes brimming.

"An' so now you won't go, will you? Because if you go, he won't."

Miss Dorothy frowned in deep thought for a moment.

"I shall have to go," she said at last, slowly. "Father is justcounting on my being there Christmas, and he is so lonely—I couldn'tdisappoint him. But, Keith—I won't have to see much of him, anyway.I'll explain it to father. He won't mind. He's used to his patientstaking notions. It'll be all right. Don't worry," she nodded, her faceclearing.

"But you'll have to be with Keith—some."

"Oh, yes, a little. But he won't know who I am. I'm just Dr. Stewart'sdaughter. Don't you see?"

"But—he'll know your voice."

"I shan't talk much. Besides, he never did hear me talk much. It wasalways Mazie that talked most. And he hasn't heard me any for a yearor more, except that little bit that day at the house."

"But your name, Dorothy," still argued Susan dubiously.

"Father never calls me that. I'm always 'Puss' to him. And there won'tbe anybody else with us on the journey. Don't you worry. You just sendKeith right along, and trust me for the rest. You'll see," she noddedagain brightly, as she turned away.

Susan went home then to her neglected work. There seemed reallynothing else that she could do. But that she was far from followingMiss Dorothy's blithe advice "not to worry" was very evident from herfrowning brow and preoccupied air all the rest of the time untilTuesday morning when Keith went—until, indeed, Mr. Burton came homefrom seeing Keith off on his journey. Then her pent-up perturbationculminated in an onslaught of precipitate questions.

"Was he all right? Was that girl there? Did he know who she was? Doyou think he'll find out?"

"One at a time, Susan, one at a time," laughed the man. "Yes, he wasall right. He went off smiling, with the doctor's arm about hisshoulders. Yes, the young lady was there, but she kept well away fromKeith, so far as I could see. Friends had come evidently to see heroff, but I noticed she contrived to keep herself and them as far awayfrom Keith as possible. Of course, on the journey there'll be just thethree of them. The test will come then. But I wouldn't worry, Susan.Remember your own advice about those bridges of yours. He's started,and he's with the doctor. I don't think he'll turn back now."

"No, I s'pose not," sighed Susan. "But I wish I could