She has always written
to me once a fortnight, and it's a month now since I heard from her, and
she has sent me a book every Christmas until this last one."
"She has been very sick, Uncle Ike," said Ezekiel. "She was taken down
about the middle of December and was under the doctor's care for three
weeks."
"Is she better?" asked Uncle Ike eagerly.
"Yes, she is up again," said Ezekiel, "but she is very weak; but that
ain't the worst of it," he added.
"Why, what's the matter?" asked Uncle Ike. "Why didn't her friends let
us know?"
"She wouldn't let them," said Ezekiel. "If it hadn't been for what the
eye doctor told her she wouldn't have telegraphed to me what she did."
"Well, what's the matter with her?" cried Uncle Ike almost fiercely.
"Well, Uncle Ike," said Ezekiel, and the tears stood in his eyes as he
said it, "our Allie is almost blind, but the eye doctor says she will
get better, but it will take a very long time. She has had to give up
her job, and I am going to Boston again to-morrow to bring her home to
the old house."
"What's the matter with her eyes?" asked Uncle Ike.
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