Patchwork Part 43

I told you there are generous people who give lots of money to hospitals."

"And I guess the hospitals pay the doctors then," offered the woman.

"I guess so," Phbe agreed. Her conscience smote her for the deception she was practicing on the dear white-capped woman. "But what's the use of straining at every little gnat of a falsehood," she thought, "when I'm swallowing camels wholesale?"

She managed to secure a short interview with Dr. Munster before the examination of Mother Bab's eyes.

"I want to ask you what the operation is going to cost, hospital charges and all," she said frankly.

"At least five hundred dollars."

Phbe's year in the city had taught her many things. She showed no surprise at the amount named. "That will be satisfactory, Dr. Munster.

But I want to ask you, please don't tell Moth--Mrs. Eby anything about it. I--it's to be paid by a friend. I know Mrs. Eby would almost faint if she knew so much money was going to be spent for her. She knows that many hospitals have free rooms and thinks some operations are free. I left her under that impression. You understand?"

The big doctor understood. "Yes, I see. Well, we'll run this one chance to cover and make a fight. I wish I could promise more," he said.

"Thank you. I know you'll succeed. I'm sure she'll see again!"

True to his promise Dr. Munster answered Mother Bab so tactfully that she came out of his office feeling that "the physician is the flower of our civilization, that cheerfulness and generosity are a part of his virtues."

The optimism in Phbe's heart tinged the blind woman's with its cheery faith. "I figure it this way," the girl said; "we'll do all we can and then if we fail there's time enough to be resigned and say it's G.o.d's will."

"Phbe, you're a wonderful girl! Your name means _s.h.i.+ning_, and that just suits you. You're doing so much for me. Why, you didn't even want to let me pay your carfare down here!"

The girl winced again. "I must learn to wince without showing it," she thought, "for after she sees she'll keep saying such things and I can't spoil it all by letting her know the truth."

Perhaps the optimistic words of Phbe rang in the ears of the big doctor as he bent over Mother Bab's sightless eyes and began the tedious operation. His hands moved skilfully, with infinite precision, cutting to the infinitesimal fraction of an inch.

Afterward, when Mother Bab had been taken away, he sought Phbe. "I hope," he said, "that your faith was not unwarranted, though I can't promise anything yet."

"Oh, I'm surer now than ever!" the girl said happily.

But at times, in the days of waiting, her heart ached. What if the operation had failed, what if Mother Bab would have to bear cruel disappointment? All the natural buoyancy of the girl's nature was required to bear her through the trying days of waiting. With the dawning of the day upon which the bandage should be removed and the truth known Phbe's excitement could not be restrained.

"I can't wait!" she exclaimed. "I want to be right there when he takes it off. I want you to see me first, since David isn't here."

Long after that day it seemed to her that she could hear Mother Bab's glad, sweet voice saying, "I can see!"

"I can see!" The words were electric in their effect. Phbe gave an ecstatic "Oh!" then hushed as her lips trembled.

"You win," the big doctor said to her.

"Oh, no, not I! You! But I knew she'd see again!"

"She sees again, but," he cautioned, "Mrs. Eby, there must be no reading or sewing or any close work to strain your eyes."

"Oh, doctor, it's enough just to see again! I can do without the reading and writing, for Phbe, here, does all that for me. And I'll not miss the sewing. I'm glad I can potter around the garden again and plant flowers and _see_ them and"--her voice broke--"I think it's wonderful there are men like you in the world!"

CHAPTER x.x.xIV

BUSY DAYS

THE news of the operation spread quickly and with it spread the interesting information that Mother Bab was keeping her sight as a surprise for David. So it happened that no letters to him contained the news, that even the town paper refrained from printing the item of heart interest and David's surprise was unspoiled.

His letters to Mother Bab were long and interesting and always required frequent re-reading for the mother.

"I wanted to read that letter awful bad," she confessed to Phbe one day, "but I didn't. I'm not taking any chances with my eyes. I'm too glad to be able to see at all. The letter came this morning and Phares read it for me, but I want to hear it again. Will you read it, Phbe?

Did David write to you this week yet?"

"No." The girl felt the color surging to her cheeks. "He doesn't write to me very often. He knows I read your letters."

"Ach, yes. I guess he's busy, too. It's a big change for him to be learning to be a sailor when he always had his feet on dry land. But read the letter; it's a nice big one."

Phbe's clear laughter joined Mother Bab's at one paragraph: "Do you remember the blue sailor suits you used to make for me when I was a tiny chap? And once you made me a real tam and I was proud as a peac.o.c.k in it. Well, since I'm here and wearing a sailor suit I feel like a masculine edition of Alice in Wonderland when she felt herself growing bigger and bigger and I wonder sometimes if I'll shrink back again and be just that little boy."

Another portion of the letter set Phbe's voice trembling as she read, "I must tell you again, mother, how thankful I am that you made it so much easier for me to go than I dreamed it could be. You are so fine about it. With a mother as plucky as you I can't very well be a jelly-fish. It's great to have a mother one has to reach high to live up to."

"Just like David," said Phbe as she laid the letter aside. "Of course I think war is dreadful, but the training is going to do wonders for many of the men."

"Yes," said the white-capped woman. "Out of it some good will come.

Selfishness is going to be erased clean from the souls of many people by the time war is over."

"But we must pay a big price for all we gain from it."

"Yes--I wonder--I guess Davie will be going over soon. He said, you know, that if we don't hear from him for a while not to worry. I guess that means he thinks he'll be going over."

When, at length, news came from the other side it was Phbe who was the bringer of the tidings.

"Oh, Mother Bab," she cried breathlessly one day in autumn as she ran back from the gate after a visit from the postman, "it's a letter from France!"

Phares Eby and his mother ran at the news and the four stood, an eager group, as Phbe opened the letter.

"Read it, Phbe! He's over safely!" Mother Bab's voice was eager.

"I--I can't read it. I'm too excited. I can't get my breath. You read it, Phares."

The preacher read in his slow, calm way.

"_Somewhere in France._

"DEAR MOTHER:

"You see by the heading I'm safe over here. I can't tell you much about the trip--no use wearing out the censor's pencils. The sea's wonderful, but I like dry land better. I'm on dry land now, in a quaint French village where the streets run up hill and the people wear strange costumes. The women wash their clothes by beating them on stones in the brook--how would the Lancaster County women like that?"

It was a long, chatty letter and it warmed the heart of the mother and interested Phbe and the others who heard it.