“Cold, Rob? You'd better turn up your collar, after being in the warm church, and in your heavy robes, too.”
“I’m not cold,” he said hoarsely.
“What is it, dear? Is anything the matter?”
“It’s Fred. He’s come home from Boston, and he’s lots worse. The doctor says he can’t ever see again as long as he lives.” And Rob tried to swallow a great lump in his throat, as he told of his friend’s trouble.
“Why, Rob, what do you mean? When did he come home? Who told you?”
“Phil told me just now. He came home late last night, and Phil met his father to-day. The trouble’s all gone into his opposite nerve, Phil said, and they say he’ll be blind forever. Isn’t it awful, cousin Bess?”
“Indeed it is, my boy,” said Bess, too much shocked by Rob’s tidings even to smile over his “opposite nerve.” “But I don’t see what this can have to do with his eyes. I do hope there is some mistake.”
“I’m afraid there isn’t,” said Rob, shaking his head doubtfully. “You see, Phil saw Mr. Allen just this noon.”
