Rose's sacrifice was a failure in one respect, for, though the eldersloved her the better for it, and showed that they did, the boys werenot inspired with the sudden respect which she had hoped for. Infact, her feelings were much hurt by overhearing Archie say thathe couldn't see any sense in it; and the Prince added another blowby pronouncing her "the queerest chicken ever seen."It is apt to be so, and it is hard to bear; for, though we do not wanttrumpets blown, we do like to have our little virtues appreciated,and cannot help feeling disappointed if they are not.

　　A time soon came, however, when Rose, quite unconsciously, wonnot only the respect of her cousins, but their gratitude andaffection likewise.

　　Soon after the Island episode, Mac had a sunstroke, and was veryill for some time. It was so sudden that everyone was startled, andfor some days the boy's life was in danger. He pulled through,however; and then, just as the family were rejoicing, a new troubleappeared which cast a gloom over them all.

　　Poor Mac's eyes gave out; and well they might, for he had abusedthem, and never being very strong, they suffered doubly now.

　　No one dared to tell him the dark predictions of the great oculistwho came to look at them, and the boy tried to be patient, thinkingthat a few weeks of rest would repair the overwork of severalyears.

　　He was forbidden to look at a book, and as that was the one thinghe most delighted in, it was a terrible affliction to the Worm.

　　Everyone was very ready to read to him, and at first the ladscontended for this honour. But as week after week went by, andMac was still condemned to idleness and a darkened room, theirzeal abated, and one after the other fell off. It was hard for theactive fellows, right in the midst of their vacation; and nobodyblamed them when they contented themselves with brief calls,running of errands, and warm expressions of sympathy.

　　The elders did their best, but Uncle Mac was a busy man, AuntJane's reading was of a funereal sort, impossible to listen to long,and the other aunties were all absorbed in their own cares, thoughthey supplied the boy with every delicacy they could invent.

　　Uncle Alec was a host in himself, but he could not give all his timeto the invalid; and if it had not been for Rose, the afflicted Wormwould have fared ill. Her pleasant voice suited him, her patiencewas unfailing, her time of no apparent value, and her eagergood-will was very comforting.

　　The womanly power of self-devotion was strong in the child, andshe remained faithfully at her post when all the rest dropped away.

　　Hour after hour she sat in the dusky room, with one ray of light onher book, reading to the boy, who lay with shaded eyes silentlyenjoying the only pleasure that lightened the weary days.

　　Sometimes he was peevish and hard to please, sometimes hegrowled because his reader could not manage the dry books hewished to hear, and sometimes he was so despondent that her heartached to see him. Through all these trials Rose persevered, usingall her little arts to please him. When he fretted, she was patient;when he growled, she ploughed bravely through the hard pages notdry to her in one sense, for quiet tears dropped on them now andthen; and when Mac fell into a despairing mood, she comfortedhim with every hopeful word she dared to offer.

　　He said little, but she knew he was grateful, for she suited himbetter than anyone else. If she was late, he was impatient; whenshe had to go, he seemed forlorn; and when the tired head achedworst, she could always soothe him to sleep, crooning the oldsongs her father used to love.

　　"I don't know what I should do without that child," Aunt Jane oftensaid.

　　"She's worth all those racketing fellows put together," Mac wouldadd, fumbling about to discover if the little chair was ready for hercoming.

　　That was the sort of reward Rose liked, the thanks that cheeredher; and whenever she grew very tired, one look at the greenshade, the curly head so restless on the pillow, and the poorgroping hands, touched her tender heart and put new spirit into theweary voice.

　　She did not know how much she was learning, both from thebooks she read and the daily sacrifices she made. Stories andpoetry were her delight, but Mac did not care for them; and sincehis favourite Greeks and Romans were forbidden, he satisfiedhimself with travels, biographies, and the history of greatinventions or discoveries. Rose despised this taste at first, but soongot interested in Livingstone's adventures, Hobson's stirring life inIndia, and the brave trials and triumphs of Watt and Arkwright,Fulton, and "Palissy, the Potter." The true, strong books helped thedreamy girl; her faithful service and sweet patience touched andwon the boy; and long afterward both learned to see how usefulthose seemingly hard and weary hours had been to them.

　　One bright morning, as Rose sat down to begin a fat volumeentitled "History of the French Revolution," expecting to come togreat grief over the long names, Mac, who was lumbering aboutthe room like a blind bear, stopped her by asking abruptly"What day of the month is it?""The seventh of August, I believe.""More than half my vacation gone, and I've only had a week of it! Icall that hard," and he groaned dismally.

　　"So it is; but there is more to come, and you may be able to enjoythat.""May be able! I will be able! Does that old noodle think I'm goingto stay stived up here much longer?""I guess he does, unless your eyes get on faster than they have yet.""Has he said anything more lately?""I haven't seen him, you know. Shall I begin? this looks rathernice.""Read away; it's all one to me." And Mac cast himself down uponthe old lounge, where his heavy head felt easiest.

　　Rose began with great spirit, and kept on gallantly for a couple ofchapters, getting over the unpronounceable names with unexpectedsuccess, she thought, for her listener did not correct her once, andlay so still she fancied he was deeply interested. All of a suddenshe was arrested in the middle of a fine paragraph by Mac, who satbolt upright, brought both feet down with a thump, and said, in arough, excited tone"Stop! I don't hear a word, and you may as well save your breath toanswer my question.""What is it?" asked Rose, looking uneasy, for she had somethingon her mind, and feared that he suspected what it was. His nextwords proved that she was right.

　　"Now, look here, I want to know something, and you've got to tellme.""Please, don't " began Rose, beseechingly.

　　"You must, or I'll pull off this shade and stare at the sun as hard asever I can stare. Come now!" and he half rose, as if ready toexecute the threat.

　　"I will! oh, I will tell, if I know! But don't be reckless and doanything so crazy as that," cried Rose, in great distress.

　　"Very well; then listen, and don't dodge, as everyone else does.

　　Didn't the doctor think my eyes worse the last t............