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 since doubtless your instruments are at headquarters." And so saying, the little surgeon, with a naïve air of satisfaction, opened his surgical kit and examined his shining instruments affectionately, John watching him respectfully.

A quick knock sounding just then upon the door, Charity hastened to open it. She revealed the anxious face and tall, shambling form of Young Cy.

"I met Hitty. She told me that—that man I bl-blinded hath met with an accident, that ye were to bleed him, John?" he stammered questioningly. A look across the kitchen at the instruments laid out upon the table before Doctor Carter sent the blood from his face. "Is't true? Will he die?"

"Why, come in, Young Cy," returned John kindly. "Hitty is a madcap, she should not have so alarmed ye!" he went on in a vexed tone. Tis too soon to tell how he is, my lad."

The boy stood pale and silent a moment, then he sighed. "And if I had not blinded him, this would not have happened him!"

"Nay, he was as like to have died, blind or not, an he dies, for he was asleep when he walked off the haymow!" answered Doctor Carter sharply. But Young Cy looked at the floor.

Tis so horrible to feel that ye have taken the blue sky and the sunlight from a man!" he said. And with half a sob he dropped his chin upon his breast. Doctor Carter, watching him keenly, saw the nervous twitching of his eyelids, the trembling of his hands.

"Hast slept well lately, young sir?" he now asked.