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This was a very inopportune time for a cold, or whatever it was, to
settle in his eyes. Perhaps the lights at the theatre last night, and
then the wind coming home--but he smiled an intimate little smile with
himself at thought of last night and forgot all about that sandy feeling
in his eyes.
During the morning it almost passed away. When he thought of it at all,
it was only to be thankful it was not amounting to anything, for he was
anxious to do a good day's work. He would hate it if anything were to
happen to his eyes and he had to wear glasses! He had never had the
slightest trouble with them; in fact they had served him so well that he
never gave them any thought. The idea came now of how impossible it would
be to do anything without them. His work depended entirely on seeing
things right; it was the appearance of things in their different stages
which told the story.
Dr. Hubers had a queer little trick with his eyes; the students who
worked with him had often noticed it. He had a way of resting his finger
in the corner of his eye when thinking.


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