"But it AIN'T takin' proper care of him, not to let him do things for
himself," stormed Susan hotly. "How's he ever goin' to 'mount to
anything--that's what I want to know--if he don't get a chance to
begin to 'mount? All them fellers--them fellers that was blind an'
wrote books an' give lecturin's an' made things--perfectly wonderful
things with their hands--how much do you s'pose they would have done
if they'd had a woman 'round who said, 'Here, let me do it; oh, you
mustn't do that, Keithie, dear!' every time they lifted a hand to
brush away a hair that was ticklin' their nose?"

"Oh, Susan!"

"Well, it's so. Look a-here, listen!" Susan dropped all pretense of
work now, and came close to the fence. She was obviously very much in
earnest. "That boy hain't been dressed but twice since that woman came
a week ago. She won't let him dress himself alone an' now he don't
want to be dressed. Says he's too tired. An' she says, 'Of course,
you're too tired, Keithie, dear!' An' there he lies, day in an' day
out, with his poor sightless eyes turned to the wall. He won't eat a
thing hardly, except what I snuggle up when she's out airin' herself.
He ain't keen on bein' fed with a spoon like a baby. No boy with any
spunk would be."

"But can he feed himself?"

"Of course he can--if he gets a chance! But that ain't all. He don't
want to be told all the time that he's different from other folks. He
can't forget that he's blind, of course, but he wants you to act as if
you forgot it. I know. I've seen him. But she don't forget it a