ng if
you like."

Preston smiled. He did not know what made his dear teacher say this,
and place his hand on his shoulder so tenderly; but he was glad of it,
very glad; for now it was certain that Mr. Garland would not blame him
any more; and he ran home with a light heart.

CHAPTER X.

BLACKDROP.

"Oh, we had such an elegant time up there on the bank! only the boys
came and plagued us," cried Flaxie, bursting into the house, followed by
Milly.

She said it to her papa, but he did not appear to listen. He sat holding
Preston on his knee, and looking at him sadly.

Then Flaxie turned to her mother.

"Why, mamma, Willy Patten threw kisses to me when he was a boy, and
wasn't my cousin!"

But Mrs. Gray did not listen either. She too was looking at Preston. Mr.
Garland had just been at the house talking with them about the dear
child's eyes, and she and Dr. Papa were heavy at heart. Flaxie did not
know of this, but she felt vaguely that something was wrong.

Milly felt it too, and almost wished she had gone home with her father
in the afternoon train.

"What has mamma been crying about?" thought Julia. "I'm afraid Preston
has been a naughty boy, for she and papa have looked very sober ever
since Mr. Garland was here."

Preston himself understood the case a little better, and was saying to
himself: "I guess there's something awful the matter with my eyes, or
father wouldn't have told Mr. Garland he should take me to New York."

There were cold turkey, and pop-overs, and honey for supper, but it
wasn't a pleasant meal; there was no chatting and laughing; and Dr.
Papa hurried away from the table as soon as possible to go to see a sick
lady up town.

It was some time before the children were told the dreadful news that
Preston was losing his sight. They wondered the next week why he should
be allowed to stay out of school and play, and why his father, who was
always kind to him, should be so very gentle now, almost as gentle as he
was to little Phil.

One day Dr. Gray took Preston to New York to see an oculist. An oculist
is a physician who treats diseases of the eye.

When Dr. A. called Preston up to him, and looked at the beautiful eyes
over which a veil was slowly stealing, he shook his head.

Poor little Preston! Not twelve years old, yet growing blind like an old
man of ninety!

"But after he is blind, we can help him," said Dr. A., stroking the
boy's white forehead. "When that dreadful veil,