leaks, an' you can't put in the water only to where the crack is. Is
there anything more you want?"

"Thank you. If you'll kindly take me to Master Keith's room, that will
be all that I require," answered Mrs. Colebrook frigidly, as she
unpinned her hat and laid that on top of her coat on the bed.

"All right, ma'am. He's a whole lot better. He's been up an' dressed
to-day, but he's gone back to bed now. His room is right down here,
jest across the hall," finished Susan, throwing wide the door.

There was a choking cry, a swift rush of feet, then Mrs. Colebrook, on
her knees, was sobbing at the bedside.

"Oh, Keithie, Keithie, my poor blind boy! What will you do? How will
you ever live? Never to see again, never to see again! Oh, my poor
boy, my poor blind boy!"

Susan, at the door, flung both hands above her head, then plunged down
the stairs.

"Fool! FOOL! FOOL!" she snarled at the biscuits in the oven. "Don't
you know ANYTHING?" Yet the biscuits in the oven were puffing up and
browning beautifully, as the best of biscuits should.

When Susan's strident call for supper rang through the hall, Mrs.
Colebrook was with her brother in the studio. She had been bemoaning
and bewailing the cruel fate that had overtaken "that dear boy," and
had just asked for the seventh time how he could stand it, when from
the hall below came: