Dawn by Eleanor Porter (best finance books of all time TXT) 📕

not that; but we aren't—SURE. And—and the symptoms aren'tquite so good as they were," hurried on the girl a bit feverishly.

"But I thought he could see—light," faltered Susan.

"He could, at first, but it's been getting dimmer and dimmer, andnow"—the girl stopped and wet her lips—"there's to be a secondoperation, you know. Father hopes to have it by Christmas, or before;but I know father is afraid—that is—he thinks—"

"He don't like the way things is goin'," cut in Susan grimly. "Ain'tthat about it?"

"I'm afraid it is," faltered Miss Dorothy, wetting her lips again."And when I think of that boy—" She turned away her head, leaving hersentence unfinished.

"Well, we ain't goin' to think of it till it comes" declared Susanstoutly. "An' then—well, if it does come, we've all got to set to an'help him forget it. That's all."

"Yes, of—course," murmured the girl, turning away again. And thistime she turned quite away and went on down the street, leaving Susanby the gate alone.

"Nice girl, an' a mighty pretty one, too," whispered Susan, lookingafter the trim little figure in its scarlet cap and sweater. "An'she's got a good kind heart in her, too, a-carin' like that about thatpoor boy's bein'—"

Susan stopped short. A new look had come to her face—a look ofwonder, questioning, and dawning delight. "Lan' sakes, why hain't Inever thought of that before?" she muttered, her eyes still on therapidly disappearing little red figure down the street. "Oh, 'coursethey're nothin' but babies now, but by an' by—! Still, if he everfound out she was Dorothy Parkman, an' of course he'd have to find itout if he married—Oh, lan' sakes, what fools some folks be!"

With which somewhat cryptic statement Susan turned and marchedirritably into the house.

CHAPTER XVII

DANIEL BURTON TAKES THE PLUNGE

Dr. Stewart's second operation on Keith's eyes took place late inNovember. It was not a success. Far from increasing his vision, itlessened it. Only dimly now could he discern light at all.

In a letter to Daniel Burton, Dr. Stewart stated the case freely andfrankly, yet he declared that he had not given up hope—yet. He had aplan which, with Mr. Burton's kind permission, he would carry out. Hethen went on to explain.

In Paris there was a noted specialist in whom he had great confidence.He wished very much that this man could see Keith. To take Keith overnow, however, as war conditions were, would, of course, be difficultand hazardous. Besides, as he happened to know, this would not benecessary, for the great man was coming to this country some time inMay. To bring Keith to his attention then would be a simple matter,and a chance well worth waiting for. Meanwhile, the boy was ascomfortable where he was as he could be anywhere, and, moreover, therewere certain treatments which should still be continued. With DanielBurton's kind permission, therefore, the doctor would keep Keith wherehe was for the present, pending the arrival of the great specialist.

It was a bitter blow. For days after the letter came, Daniel Burtonshut himself up in his studio refusing to see any one but Susan, andalmost refusing to see her. Susan, indeed, heart-broken as she washerself, had no time to indulge her own grief, so busy was she tryingto concoct something that would tempt her employer to break a fastthat was becoming terrifying to her.

Then came Keith's letter. He wrote cheerfully, hopefully. He told ofnew games that he was playing, new things of interest that he was"seeing." He said nothing whatever about the operation. He did saythat there was a big doctor coming from Paris, whom he was going to"see" in May, however. That was all.

When the doctor's letter had come, telling of the failure of thesecond operation, Susan had read it and accepted it with sternlycontrolled eyes that did not shed one tear. But when Keith's lettercame, not even mentioning the operation, her self-control snapped, andshe burst openly into tears.

"I don't care," she sobbed, in answer to Daniel Burton's amazedexclamation. "When I think of the way that blessed boy is holdin' uphis head an' marchin' straight on; an' you an' me here—oh, lan'sakes, what's the use of TRYIN' to say it!" she despaired, turning andhurrying from the room.

In December Dr. Stewart came on again to take his daughter back forthe holidays. He called at once to see Mr. Burton, and the two had along conference in the studio, while Susan feverishly moved from roomto room downstairs, taking up and setting down one object afteranother in the aimless fashion of one whose fingers are not controlledby the mind.

When the doctor had gone, Susan did not wait for Daniel Burton to seekher out. She went at once to the studio.

"No, he had nothing new to say about Keith," began the man, answeringthe agonized question in her eyes before her lips could frame thewords.

"But didn't he say NOTHIN'?"

"Oh, yes, he said a great deal—but it was only a repetition of whathe had said before in the letter." Daniel Burton spoke wearily,constrainedly. His face had grown a little white. "The doctor boughtthe big sofa in the hall downstairs, and the dropleaf table in thedining-room."

"Humph! But will he PAY anything for them things?"

"Yes, he will pay well for them. And—Susan."

"Yes, sir." Something in the man's face and voice put a curious noteof respect into Susan's manner as sudden as it was unusual.

"I've been intending to tell you for some time. I—I shall wantbreakfast at seven o'clock to-morrow morning. I—I am going to work inMcGuire's store."

"You are goin' to—what?" Susan's face was aghast.

"To work, I said," repeated Daniel Burton sharply. "I shall wantbreakfast at seven o'clock, Susan." He turned away plainly indicatingthat for him the matter was closed.

But for Susan the matter was not closed.

"Daniel Burton, you ain't goin' to demean yourself like that!" shegasped;—"an artistical gentleman like you! Why, I'd rather work myhands to the bones—"

"That will do, Susan. You may go."

And Susan went. There were times when Susan did go.

But not yet for Susan was the matter closed. Only an hour later Mrs.McGuire "ran over" with a letter from her