“WHAT’S the matter with you, anyhow, Betty Pogany?” Tommy demanded
fiercely. He was the most even-tempered, good-humored lad in the world,
but at this time he was secretly deeply troubled about Betty and he
cloaked his anxiety under the guise of impatience. “You’re getting
almost too thin already. And if you go on----”
He waved his stained hands eloquently with the familiar gesture of the
wizard. But his words hadn’t had the effect he desired, and he frowned.
Betty’s face had lighted up with happy wonderment at the idea that
anyone could speak of her as being thin--as being even remotely likely
to become too thin! She had truly lost so many pounds that the charming
and very becoming sailor-suit she had had for a school dress had had
to be taken in very considerably, that she walked easily and ran with
pleasure, but she hadn’t thought of others noticing it. And certainly
she had never dreamed that hers should be the bliss of being called
thin!
Tommy glanced across the table at her. They were having their Christmas
holidays and Betty had come down to see him do tricks, as they called
it, though it was seldom he really accomplished what he expected to do.
Tommy was himself painfully thin, but that was because he was growing
so rapidly. Always rather below the average height for his years, soon
after he entered the high school, Tommy had suddenly begun to shoot
up. He had gone so far in the four months that it looked as if he would
overtake Betty almost within the year.
At this particular point, the general effect was rather comical.
Already he had outgrown the new suit with his first long trousers
which he had had in September, his stick-like ankles and wrists being
awkwardly apparent. And the contrast was striking between his long,
very lank, angular body and the small round head with its sandy thatch
of wild-looking hair, with his freckled face, snub nose and very
childish mouth. Not that Tommy was aware of it or would have minded in
the least if he had been. He had always been happy-go-lucky; but he had
never so enjoyed himself as he had done of late. He had walked back
and forth between home and school every day during the term, not even
joining the others on the train on rainy or stormy days when the girls
were not allowed to walk. And this though the money saved, as he never
minded repeating, went into his father’s pocket--every red cent! He had
outlived the nickname, “Teacher’s Pet,” with which he had been dubbed
the first day when seen from a little distance walking with Betty, and
he was rather proud of the succeeding “Finnyfish” which he still went
by. He saw Mr. Meadowcroft daily and doubled the delight of his days by
narrating their events to him. And he had used so prudently the very
scant leisure he had to devote to magic that he hadn’t once all the
term lost the privilege of working at it. And he had had some success
(recognizable only to a connoisseur) at that fascinating pursuit.
But of late the boy had been aware that the enthusiastic witness and
supporter of the latter as well as the loyal comrade of his unsuccess
was not so ideally happy as everyone else was--everyone else being
Rose, Mr. Meadowcroft and himself. Tommy felt vaguely that something
was troubling Betty, preying upon her mind--in which he was wiser than
his elders. Mr. Meadowcroft had, indeed, realized only a few days
before that Betty had changed outwardly to an extent that would have
been startling to one who had not seen her in the interval since the
summer. It came to him suddenly that the girl was now no larger than
she should be for her height, that she really ought not to lose another
pound. And he wondered whether he ought to persuade her to go back and
forth by the train during the coming term. But he hesitated to do this,
knowing how thoroughly, how ardently, indeed, the girl enjoyed the
walking. Furthermore, it seemed almost her only enjoyment--practically
the only bit of unalloyed, girlish “fun” she had. She was so absorbed
in Rose Harrow, so intent upon helping her with her lessons, enabling
her to partake of whatever was anywhere offered, and enriching her life
that she seemed to have little more young life of her own than she had
formerly had except for the long walks of which the three friends made
real and vigorous sport.
Tommy leaned upon the handsome piece of felt Mr. Meadowcroft had given
him for his work table.
“The first thing you know, your father’ll up and put a stop to your
walking to school and then you’ll be sorry,” he declared.
Betty started. Her face sobered almost to sadness.
“But, Tommy, if it’s true, I should think father’d only be glad,” she
protested. “He was always ashamed to have me so big. I just wish I
could grow shorter, too.”
“Well, he won’t stand for your getting sick, Betty Pogany, and that’s
just what it’s coming to if you don’t watch out,” the boy declared.
“But how can I, Tommy? You don’t mean I ought to give up walking?”
cried the girl anxiously.
“It ain’t that,” he declared, “but I can tell you just what it is that
ails you. You’re--you’re just killing yourself because of Rose. You’re
so blooming sorry for her you don’t have her off your mind one single
minute, and you don’t take one mite of comfort for yourself. And, gee!
you might have such a high time always. All the fellows say you’re the
most popular girl in our class--among everybody, boys and girls and
teachers--and you don’t make anything out of it at all. Gee whiz! I’d
like your chance! If I could be a spell-binder as easy as you could,
you’d see a thing or two happen!”
Betty had colored charmingly. What Tommy had said of her popularity
was quite true. Moreover, she was as pretty as any girl in the class.
She was over-tall, but she was sufficiently slender and very graceful
and the fine straight lines of her figure accorded well with her fine,
sweet, child-like face.
“O, Tommy, it’s really Rose, not me,” she protested earnestly. “It’s
because we’re always together. Everybody was always wild about Rose at
home, you know, she was so pretty and bright and lively. And she’s all
that now, and is so wonderful besides and, O, so brave!”
“Well, it isn’t all on account of her that they like you,” persisted
Tommy, “but that ain’t what we’re talking about this minute. What I
want to know is why you go on so, thinking of her all the time and
how perfectly awful it is to be blind? And you make it a lot worse
by never saying a thing to anybody about it, just shutting it all up
inside you so that only a magician like T. Finnyfish, Esquire, could
ever make out what the matter was, or that there was any trouble. Now,
Betty, let me tell you where you are foolish. You mind it a heap worse
than Rose does herself--no end worse!”
Tommy spoke truly. As a matter of fact, Rose Harrow had never in
her life been happier than during the autumn just past. Of course
the contrast helped. After that wretched, dreary six months of
enforced idleness and loneliness and inertia, the girl was back at
her studies again, which must inevitably hold more intense interest.
Always, as Betty had said, a favorite, she was the more so under the
circumstances. She had her part in practically everything going on
among the school children and took ingenuous satisfaction in surprising
her teachers and companions by unexpected acts, circumventing her
handicap in all sorts of curious and original ways. She played the
piano for the opening exercises of the school in the morning and for
the upper classes in gymnastics, and was herself the star performer
among the girls in her class. And though Mr. Meadowcroft felt with
secret dissatisfaction and sometimes with irritation that Rose took
Betty’s devotion and constant self-sacrifice as a matter of course, in
reality the girl valued Betty’s warm friendship as the best thing in
her life and the basis of all her other happiness. Her high spirits
never flagged and no one but Betty Pogany questioned her happiness at
all. Her father and mother not only believed in it but shared it. Only
Betty felt Rose’s gaiety to be forced and suffered vicariously for her
as only a sensitive and reserved soul such as hers can suffer.
The fifteen-minute period was over, and five minutes extra, and still
the brownish, opaque liquid was unchanged. Again the experiment was
a failure. Betty rose regretfully. She had to go home to do her
practising.
Tommy accompanied her. They did not speak until they were on the porch
at the Poganys’ and Betty was dutifully cleaning her overshoes on the
iron scraper.
“Betty, do you know what I believe? I believe that some day Rose’s
sight will come back to her!” Tommy declared eagerly.
“O, Tommy!” cried the girl breathlessly. That possibility had never
occurred to her.
“I am just about sure of it,” the boy went on, gaining credence in his
own statement from her manner of receiving it.
Betty clasped her gloved hands.
“It stands to reason,” quoth the oracle. “Look at her eyes--just as
good as yours or mine. Now all the blind people I ever saw had their
eyes tight shut.”
“O,” murmured Betty wonderingly. “I never saw anyone but Rose.”
Tommy considered. “Well, come to think of it, I can’t just remember
seeing ’em myself. But anyhow I have in books, and of course books are
more reliable. And what I was going to say was that Rose’s eyes being
wide open and turning hither and yon and looking just exactly the same
and doing everything anybody’s eyes do except seeing, why, it stands to
reason that some day she must see, too. I suppose there’s some little
obstacle between her brain and her eyes, and what I think is that some
sort of shock is going to do the trick, you know. I have thought of
firing a pistol, if I could lay my hands on one, or even busting a
bag right close to her ear when she don’t know anybody’s round. But
I’d sort of hate to do that. I’d feel mean even if it was for her own
good, and anyhow I think a natural shock would be much better, like
thunder when she thinks it’s a fine day. O, or in winter! Dad knew it
to thunder once in February. Wouldn’t that be grand, Betty!”
Betty drew a deep breath.
“O, Tommy, I wouldn’t even mind a small little earthquake, would you?”
she cried.
“Not I,” said Tommy gaily and went off whistling with shrill
cheerfulness. It wasn’t only that Betty’s ready acceptance of his
prophecy gave him a sense of importance, but he felt he had really
accomplished something. Instead of worrying now about poor Rose, she
would be eagerly looking forward to the day when her sight should be
restored.