Tellef and Johnny Blossom had been friends ever since that time long ago when they had had a fight and he had broken Tellef’s fishpole, and then had given him the two half-dollars he had got from Uncle Isaac. Never since had they been anything but the best of friends.

 

Another thing that was pleasant about going to Tellef’s was that no one there talked to him about being heir of Kingthorpe and all that. He was sick of that subject now.

 

And yet there was something sad, too, at Tellef’s house, for Tellef’s grandmother was blind. Just think! When she went out of doors she had to keep her hand on the house and walk that way, going round and round it; and that looked so queer. Sometimes she would sit right down on the grass and cry because she could not see; and somehow it seemed especially sad that she should cry with those sightless eyes.

 

“Aren’t you glad that you can see?” said Grandmother to the boys one day. “Don’t you thank God every day for your good eyes?”

 

No, Johnny Blossom had never thought of such a thing. He shut his eyes tight so as to know how it would seem to be blind. Oh, dear, it must be dreadful! Think of everything being dark—always, always dark!

 

One day he and Tellef took the grandmother up on the knoll. She longed to feel the salt wind blowing directly from the water, she said. So there she stood, with her gray hair tossing about her wistful old face, and with her sightless eyes turned toward the sea.

 

“It was very kind of you boys to bring me up here,” said Grandmother. “Oh, if I could only see the water! Is it smooth and bright?”

 

“Yes, it is like a mirror, Grandmother,” answered Tellef.

 

“Are there many ships in sight?”

 

“Yes, there goes a steamer to the east, and a beautiful boat lies right near here, and far out there is sail after sail.”

 

“Far out?” asked Grandmother.

 

“Yes, far out against the sky.”

 

“Far out against the sky,” repeated Grandmother, staring with her sightless eyes. Then she sat down to rest, with her hands folded under her

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