Brum refused even to feel these shining objects. He had hoped to have a majority of books, but now the preponderance of watches, rings, and penknives, left him apathetic. To his parents each present brought a fresh feeling of dishonesty. "We must let them know," they kept saying. But the tiny difficulty of writing to so many prevented action. "Perhaps he'll be all right by Sabbath," Zillah persisted frenziedly. She clung to the faith that this was but a cloud: for that the glory of the Confirmation of a future Rabbi could be so dimmed would argue an incomprehensible Providence. Brum's performance was to be so splendid--he was to recite not only his own portion of the Law but the entire Sabbath _Sedrah_ (section). "He will never be all right," said Jossel, who, in the utter breakdown of Zillah, had for the first time made the round of the doctors with Brum. "None of the physicians, not even the most expensive, hold out any hope. And the dearest of all said the case puzzled him. It was like the blindness that often breaks out in Russia after the great fasts, and specially affects delicate children." "Yes, I remember," said Zillah; "but that was only among the Christians." "We have so many Christian customs nowadays," said Jossel grimly; and he thought of the pestilent heretic in his own synagogue who advocated that ladies should be added to the choir. "Then what shall we do about the people?" moaned Zillah, wringing her hands in temporary discouragement. "You can advertise in the Jewish papers," came suddenly from the brooding Brum. He had a flash of pleasure in the thought of composing something that would be published. "Yes, then everybody will read it on the Friday," said Jossel eagerly. Then Brum remembered that he would not be among the readers, and despair reconquered him. But Zillah was shaking her head. "Yes, but if we tell people not to come, and then when Brum opens his eyes on the Sabbath morning, he can see to read the _Sedrah_--" "But I don't want to see to read the _Sedrah_," said the boy petulantly; "I know it all by heart." "My blessed boy!" cried Zillah. "There's nothing wonderful," said the boy; "even if you read the scroll, there are no vowels nor musical signs." "But do you feel strong enough to do it all?" said the father anxiously. "God will give him strength," put in the mother. "And he will make his speech, too, won't you, my Brum?" The blind face kindled. Yes, he would give his learned address. He had saved his father the expense of hiring one, and had departed in original rhetorical ways from the conventional methods of expressing filial gratitude to the parents who had brought him to manhood. And was this eloquence to remain entombed in his own breast?