"Then tell her I do; tell her I, her old governess, am sick and poor and
in great trouble."
Tears rolled down her cheeks and for a moment her eyes rested upon her
daughter's face with an expression of keen anguish. "She's going blind,"
she whispered in Elsie's ear, drawing the child toward her, and nodding in
the direction of Sally, stitching away at the window.
"Blind! oh how dreadful!" exclaimed the little girl in low moved tones,
the tears springing to her eyes. "I wish she could go to Doctor Thomson."
"Doctor Thomson! who is he?"
"An oculist: he lives in Philadelphia. A friend of mamma's had something
growing over her eyes so that she was nearly blind, and he cut it off and
she can see now as well as anybody."
"I don't think that is the trouble with Sally's; though of course I can't
tell. But she's always had poor sight, and now that she has to support the
family with her needle, her eyes are nearly worn out."
Sally had been for several minutes making vain attempts to thread a
needle.
Elsie sprang to her side with a kindly, eager, "Let me do it, won't you?"
It was done in a trice and the girl thanked her with lips and eyes.
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