Part 23 (2/2)
At that moment he heard careful, tiptoeing footsteps outside his door.
He had already become quick at recognizing the tread of different members of the family, and without the least uncertainty he called out,
”Paul!”
Then he heard the door open.
”I thought you were asleep,” said Paul's voice.
”Well, I'm not.” Then in a jocose tone, Carl said, ”It's a beautiful day, isn't it?”
”Why, yes,” answered Paul, in some surprise. ”Look here-have you been taking off that bandage?”
”No. But it _is_ a beautiful day isn't it? I just wanted to be sure I guessed right.”
Paul said nothing. To him there was something indescribably terrible and touching in Carl's cheerfulness, and in the sight of that half-hidden face turned nearly but not exactly in his direction.
”_You_ heard what the doctor said,” said Carl abruptly, ”there's a chance that I may be blind, isn't there? Come on, and tell me. You certainly can't keep me from knowing sooner or later. _Did_ he say that?”
”Yes. He did,” Paul replied briefly. Carl seemed to think this over quite calmly for a moment or two; then with a dignity that he had never shown before, he said slowly,
”You once said I was a coward, cousin. And you were right. I _am_ a coward in the way you big fellows think of it. But maybe I'm not a coward in _every_ way. Maybe I'm not. I don't know. Maybe I am.” Paul said nothing, but stood helplessly with his hands on the back of the chair.
”Sit down-that is, if you want to,” Carl suggested rather awkwardly. ”It isn't time for your lunch yet, is it? Where's Janey?”
”She's helping Elise.” Paul sat down, crossed his legs and looked at his cousin, not knowing exactly what else to say. He looked odd enough sitting there, in his ap.r.o.n, his sleeves rolled up and his s.h.i.+rt open at the neck, sunburnt and strong in contrast to the bony, pallid boy in the bed.
Carl fingered his eyeshade wistfully.
”Lord, I wish I could take this confounded thing off for just a minute,”
he muttered moving his head restlessly. ”Do _you_ believe what the doctor says?”
”I believe you'll be all right in six months,” said Paul. Carl sat bolt upright.
”_Do_ you think so? Do you really. You aren't saying that just to cheer me up? No, _you_ wouldn't do that, would you?”
”No,” said Paul, ”I wouldn't.”
”Do you think I'll be able to go back to school next year?”
”No,” said Paul, ”I don't.”
”You don't?” Then Carl laughed. ”Well, I'm glad you say what you think.”
”It's very likely, though, that you'll be able to study a little, and a fellow as clever as you are won't be behind long,” went on Paul, gravely. Carl was vastly pleased at the compliment.
”What makes you think I'm-clever?” he asked presently.
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