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 "Can you tell me about it?" asked the lady, gently.

"Yes'm. I was only six years old then,—I am eight now,—and things began to grow dimmer and dimmer, and the doctor couldn't do anything for me, and glasses did not seem to help at all, and by and by the light went clear out and I haven't seen anything since, and the doctors say that I never shall. That is all"—the little voice choked.

The lady held her close. "Dear little one!" she whispered.

Presently she spoke again: "What was that game which you were playing this morning,—with your brother and the flowers?"

"Oh, that wasn't a game,—I was just remembering. Ronald and I do that very often. I love the dear flowers so, and every day in