I know; but his eyes have never troubled him, have they?”
“Not much. A year ago, I guess ’twas, he stayed out of school about a week, ’cause it hurt him to read. But perhaps it isn’t so bad as they think.”
“Poor Fred!” said Bess, drawing her little cousin closer to her side, as she thought of the suffering of this other boy. “If this is true, he has a sad, sad life before him. You boys, Rob, must do all you can to help him, when he gets strong enough to see you again. You can do so much for him if you only try. I know my boy will, won’t he?”
“Why, yes. But how can we, cousin Bess?”
“In ever so many little ways. Go to see him, read to him, talk to him, only not about things he can’t do; get him to go out with you,—anything to keep him from feeling he is left out in the cold, and you boys get on just as well without him.”
They walked on in silence for a moment, and then Bess asked,—
“Rob, do you remember the third verse of your recessional hymn?”
