He looked past Miss Priscilla and the rest
of his old friends of inherited generations in Byrdsville and straight
at me, his new--but adoring--one.
"Miss Phyllis," he said, with such sadness in his voice that Mamie Sue
gulped over a piece of fudge worse than usual, "Dr. Hughes has just
examined Lovey's eyes and it has hurt him very much--also he thinks
the sight has gone. The youngster is crying and fretting for you and
they don't want him to do that under any circumstances. The only hope
for his sight will be for him not to inflame his eyes. Will you come?"
Would I go--would I go across the dead body of my father's honor and
my own and anybody's disgraces and any other old thing? I went so
quickly that I upset Mamie Sue on the one side and Miss Priscilla
almost on the other, and I didn't even wait to answer the Idol in the
reverent and respectful manner that is always his due and that I
always observe. Down that garden path I flew and over that wall I
skimmed, like a bird with wings, or like the Idol himself, and in so
little a time that I didn't even realize the journey, I was in
Roxanne's room with her in one of my arms and Lovelace Peyton squeezed
up in the other.
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