"Dusta say to-day, Mistress Ritson?" asked Matthew, the big drops standing in his eyes. "Yes, Matthew; I will stay to see it over, and mind baby, and help a little." Mercy took the little one from Greta's arms and cried over it, and laughed over it, and then cried and laughed again. "Mama and Ralphie shall play together in the garden, darling; and Ralphie shall see the horses--and the flowers--and the birdies--and mama--yes, mama shall see Ralphie." II Two hours later the doctors arrived. They looked at Mercy's eyes, and were satisfied that the time was ripe for the operation. At the sound of their voices, Mercy trembled and turned livid. By a maternal instinct she picked up the child, who was toddling about the floor, and clasped it to her bosom. The little one opened wide his blue eyes at sight of the strangers, and the prattling tongue became quiet. "Take her to her room, and let her lie on the bed," said one of the doctors to Greta. A sudden terror seized the young mother. "No, no, no!" she said, in an indescribable accent, and the child cried a little from the pressure to her breast. "Come, Mercy, dear, be brave for your boy's sake," said Greta. "Listen to me," said the doctor, quietly but firmly: "You are now quite blind, and you have been in total darkness for a year and a half. We may be able to restore your sight by giving you a few minutes' pain. Will you not bear it?" Mercy sobbed, and kissed the child passionately. "Just think, it is quite certain that without an operation you will never regain your sight," continued the doctor. "You have nothing to lose, and everything to gain. Are you satisfied? Come, go away to your room quietly." "Oh, oh, oh!" sobbed Mercy. "Just imagine, only a few minutes' pain, and even of that you will scarcely be conscious. Before you know what is doing it will be done." Mercy clung closer to her child, and kissed it again and yet more fervently. The doctors turned to each other. "Strange vanity!" muttered the one who had not spoken before. "Her eyes are useless, and yet she is afraid she may lose them." Mercy's quick ears caught the whispered words. "It is not that," she said, passionately. "No, gentlemen," said Greta, "you have mistaken her thought. Tell her she runs no danger of her life." The doctors smiled and laughed a little. "Oh, that's it, eh? Well, we can tell her that with certainty." Then there was another interchange of half-amused glances. "Ah, we that be men, sirs, don't know the depth and tenderness of a mother's heart," said old Matthew. And Mercy turned toward him a face that was full of gratitude. Greta took the child out of her arms and hushed it to sleep in another room. Then she brought it back and put it in its cradle that stood in the ingle. "Come, Mercy," she said, "for the sake of your boy." And Mercy permitted herself to be led from the kitchen.