With eyes fearful and questioning he searched the old man's face.
Twice he opened his mouth as if to speak; but each time he closed it
again with the words left unsaid. Then, with a breathless rush, very
much like desperation, he burst out:

"But it's always an awful long time comin', isn't it? Blindness is.
It's years and years before it really gets here, isn't it?"

"Hm-m; well, I can't say. I can only speak for myself, Keith."

"Yes, sir, I know, sir; and that's what I wanted to ask--about you,"
plunged on Keith feverishly. "When did you notice it first, and what
was it?"

The old man drew a long sigh.

"Why, I don't know as I can tell, exactly. 'T was quite a spell comin'
on--I know that; and't wasn't much of anything at first. 'T was just
that I couldn't see ter read clear an' distinct. It was all sort of
blurred."

"Kind of run together?" Just above his breath Keith asked the
question.

"Yes, that's it exactly. An' I thought somethin' ailed my glasses, an'
so I got some new ones. An' I thought at first maybe it helped. But it
didn't. Then it got so that't wa'n't only the printin' ter books an'
papers that was blurred, but ev'rything a little ways off was in a
fog, like, an' I couldn't see anything real clear an' distinct."