came, there might be another operation that--But for now, Keith, we've
got to wait--that's all. I've got some drops, and there are certain
things you'll have to do each day. You can't go to school, and you
can't read, of course; but there are lots of things you can do. And
there are lots of things we can do together--you'll see. And it's
coming out all right. It's bound to come out all right."

"Yes, sir." Keith said the two words, then shut his lips tight. Keith
could not trust himself to talk much just then. Babies and girls
cried, of course; but men, and boys who were almost men--they did not
cry.

For a long minute he said nothing; then, with his chin held high and
his breath sternly under control, he said:

"Of course, dad, if I do get blind, you won't expect me to be Jerry,
and Ned, and--and you, all in a bunch, then, will you?"

This time it was dad who could not speak--except with a strong right
arm that clasped with a pressure that hurt.




CHAPTER V

WAITING


Not for some days after his return from Boston did Keith venture out