do, and much good may it do you.'"

"Oh, Doctor," cried Melody, shrinking as if the words had been
addressed to her, "how could you say that? But you don't think--you
don't think Ned will really be blind?" The child had grown very pale,
and she leaned over the gate with clasped hands, in painful suspense.

"No, I don't," replied the doctor. "I think he will come out all
right; no thanks to his mother if he does. But it was necessary to
frighten the woman, Melody, for fright is the only thing that makes an
impression on a fool. Now, I want you to run down there, like a good
child; that is, if your aunts can spare you. Run down and comfort the
little fellow, who has been badly scared by the clack of tongues and
the smarting of the tobacco-juice. Imbeciles! cods' heads! scooped-out
pumpkins!" exclaimed the doctor, in a sudden frenzy. "A--I don't mean
that. Comfort him up, child, and sing to him and tell him about
Jack-and-the-Beanstalk. You'll soon bring him round, I'll warrant.
But stop," he added, as the child, after touching Miss Vesta's hand
lightly, and making and receiving I know not what silent
communication, turned toward the house,--"stop a moment, Melody. My
friend Dr. Anthony here is very fond of music, and he would like to
hear you sing just one song. Are you in singing trim this morning?"

The child laughed. "I can always sing, of course," she said simply.
"What song would you like, Doctor?"

"Oh, the best," said Dr. Brown. "Give us 'Annie Laurie.'"

The child sat down on a great stone that stood beside the gate. It was
just under the white lilac-bush, and the white clusters bent lovingly