looking, as he asked the question.

"Why, no, dearie. Didn't you hear Susan tell Mis' McGuire jest now? 'T
was his EYES, an' he didn't know it. He was gettin' blind, an' that
was jest the beginnin'."

Susan's capable hands picked up another wet towel and snapped it open
by way of emphasis.

"The b-beginning?" stammered the boy. "But--but ALL beginnings don't--
don't end like that, do they?"

Susan Betts laughed indulgently and jammed the clothespin a little
deeper on to the towel.

"Bless the child! Won't ye hear that, now?" she laughed with a shrug.
"An' how should I know? I guess if Susan Betts could tell the end of
all the beginnin's as soon as they're begun, she wouldn't be hangin'
out your daddy's washin', my boy. She'd be sittin' on a red velvet
sofa with a gold cupola over her head a-chargin' five dollars apiece
for tellin' yer fortune. Yes, sir, she would!"

"But--but about Uncle Joe," persisted the boy. "Can't he really see--
at all, Susan?"

"There, there, child, don't think anything more about it. Indeed,
forsooth, I'm tellin' the truth, but I s'pose I hadn't oughter told it
before you. Still, you'd 'a' found it out quick enough--an' you with
your tops an' balls always runnin' up there. An' that's what the poor
soul seemed to feel the worst about," she went on, addressing Mrs.