THE ONE CHANCE
PHOEBE lost no time in carrying out her plans. When she mentioned the
operation to Phares Eby he looked dubious.
"I'm afraid it's no use," he said gravely. "Those operations very often
fail."
"But there's a chance, Phares! If it were your eyes wouldn't you snatch
at any meagre chance?"
"Why, I guess I would," he admitted, wondering at her insight into human
nature and admiring her devotion to the blind woman.
Aunt Maria also was sceptical. "Ach, Phoebe, it vonders me now that
Barb'll spend all that money for carfare and to stay in the city and
then mebbe it's all for nothin'. There was old Bevy Way and a lot of old
people I knowed went blind and they died blind. When abody gets so old
once it seems the doctors can't do much. I guess it just is to be."
"Oh, Aunt Maria," Phoebe said hotly, "I don't believe in that is-to-be
business! Not until you've done all you can to make things better."
"Well, mebbe, for all, it's worth tryin'. I guess if it was my eyes I'd
do most anything to get 'em fixed again."
Mother Bab said little about the hopes Phoebe had raised, but the girl
knew how the woman built upon having sight for a glad surprise for
David.
"I'm afraid the fifty dollars won't reach," she said the day before they
were to take the trip to Philadelphia.
"Don't worry about that. Those big doctors usually have hearts to match.
I told you there are generous people who give lots of money to
hospitals."
"And I guess the hospitals pay the doctors then," offered the woman.
"I guess so," Phoebe agreed. Her conscience smote her for the deception
she was practicing on the dear white-capped woman. "But what's the use
of straining at every little gnat of a falsehood," she thought, "when
I'm swallowing camels wholesale?"
She managed to secure a short interview with Dr. Munster before the
examination of Mother Bab's eyes.
"I want to ask you what the operation is going to cost, hospital charges
and all," she said frankly.
"At least five hundred dollars."
Phoebe's year in the city had taught her many things. She showed no
surprise at the amount named. "That will be satisfactory, Dr. Munster.
But I want to ask you, please don't tell Moth--Mrs. Eby anything about
it. I--it's to be paid by a friend. I know Mrs. Eby would almost faint
if she knew so much money was going to be spent for her. She knows that
many hospitals have free rooms and thinks some operations are free. I
left her under that impression. You understand?"
The big doctor understood. "Yes, I see. Well, we'll run this one chance
to cover and make a fight. I wish I could promise more," he said.
"Thank you. I know you'll succeed. I'm sure she'll see again!"
True to his promise Dr. Munster answered Mother Bab so tactfully that
she came out of his office feeling that "the physician is the flower of
our civilization, that cheerfulness and generosity are a part of his
virtues."
The optimism in Phoebe's heart tinged the blind woman's with its cheery
faith. "I figure it this way," the girl said; "we'll do all we can and
then if we fail there's time enough to be resigned and say it's God's
will."
"Phoebe, you're a wonderful girl! Your name means _shining_, and that
just suits you. You're doing so much for me. Why, you didn't even want
to let me pay your carfare down here!"
The girl winced again. "I must learn to wince without showing it," she
thought, "for after she sees she'll keep saying such things and I can't
spoil it all by letting her know the truth."
Perhaps the optimistic words of Phoebe rang in the ears of the big
doctor as he bent over Mother Bab's sightless eyes and began the tedious
operation. His hands moved skilfully, with infinite precision, cutting
to the infinitesimal fraction of an inch.
Afterward, when Mother Bab had been taken away, he sought Phoebe. "I
hope," he said, "that your faith was not unwarranted, though I can't
promise anything yet."
"Oh, I'm surer now than ever!" the girl said happily.
But at times, in the days of waiting, her heart ached. What if the
operation had failed, what if Mother Bab would have to bear cruel
disappointment? All the natural buoyancy of the girl's nature was
required to bear her through the trying days of waiting. With the
dawning of the day upon which the bandage should be removed and the
truth known Phoebe's excitement could not be restrained.
"I can't wait!" she exclaimed. "I want to be right there when he takes
it off. I want you to see me first, since David isn't here."
Long after that day it seemed to her that she could hear Mother Bab's
glad, sweet voice saying, "I can see!"
"I can see!" The words were electric in their effect. Phoebe gave an
ecstatic "Oh!" then hushed as her lips trembled.
"You win," the big doctor said to her.
"Oh, no, not I! You! But I knew she'd see again!"
"She sees again, but," he cautioned, "Mrs. Eby, there must be no reading
or sewing or any close work to strain your eyes."
"Oh, doctor, it's enough just to see again! I can do without the reading
and writing, for Phoebe, here, does all that for me. And I'll not miss
the sewing. I'm glad I can potter around the garden again and plant
flowers and _see_ them and"--her voice broke--"I think it's wonderful
there are men like you in the world!"