ry bright as she read.

"What does she say?" asked her husband.

"There is first an apology for not answering sooner (her eyes were so full
of belladonna that she could not see to put pen to paper, and she had no
one to write for her), then a burst of joy and gratitude--to God, to the
doctor and to me,--'success beyond anything she had dared to hope,' but
she will be with us to-morrow, and tell us all about it."

"And she won't be blind, mamma?" queried Violet, joyously.

"No, dear; I think that she must mean that her eyes are cured, or her
sight made good in some way."

"Oh, then, I'll just love that good doctor!" cried the child, clasping her
hands in delight.

The next day brought Sally, but they scarcely recognized her, she had
grown so plump and rosy, and there was so glad a light in the eyes that
looked curiously at them through glasses clear as crystal.

Mrs. Travilla took her by both hands and kissed her.

"Welcome, Sally; I am glad to see you, but should scarcely have known
you, had we met in a crowd;--you are looking so well and happy."

"And so I am, my dear kind friend," the girl answered with emotion; "and I
can see! see to read fine print that is all a blur to me without these
glasses; and all the pain is gone, the fear, the distress of body and
mind. Oh, the Lord has been good, good to me! and the doctor so kind and
interested! I shall be grateful to him and to you as long as I live!"

"Oh, did he make you those glasses? what did he do to you?" asked the
eager, curious children. "Tell us all about it, please."

But mamma said, "No, she is too tired now; she must go to her room and lie
down and rest till tea-time."

Little Elsie showed her the way, saw that nothing was wanting that could
contribute to her comfort, then left her to her repose.

It was needed after all the excitement and the hot dusty ride in the cars;
but she came down from it quite fresh, and as ready to pour out the whole
story of the experiences of the past two weeks as the children could
desire.

When tea was over, they clustered round her on the cool breezy veranda
overlooking the restless murmuring sea, and by her invitation, questioned
her to their heart's content.

"Is he a nice kind old man, like our doctor at Ion?" began little Harold.

"Quite as nice and kind I should think, but not very old."

"Did he hurt you very much?" asked Elsie, who had great sympathy for
suffering, whether mental or physical.

"Oh, no