Blue Robin, the Girl Pioneer — Part 101

“Well, don’t worry over that now,” was the doctor’s terse admonition. “I have complied with your requests—on second thought, and my young girl friend has been most kind in agreeing to your wishes, for the present at least. Later, I hope, you will change your mind about these blinders.”

“Please don’t scold,” cried the voice again, “I know it is foolish of me. I will lead you to a chair!” the owner of the voice exclaimed as the girl gropingly put out her hand as if afraid of falling. Then the same soft touch led the blinded one across the room. “No, you are not going to fall; there you are all right now,” she said, as Nathalie with a sense of relief sank back in a chair.

“Now,” continued the voice, “I am going to be your eyes and tell you what is before you.”

“That will be very nice,” interposed embarrassed Nathalie, feeling somewhat foolish at having to sit in this queer way before people. She was at a loss what to say, but had time to collect herself as the lady went on talking rapidly. She described the room with its hangings, the pictures on the wall, told where the doors and windows were, and—“Oh, here is the couch—” she hesitated slightly, “and on it is my daughter, her name is—”

“Oh, Mamma, if you don’t want the young lady to know my name, tell her I’m the Princess in the Tower!” exclaimed the same sweet voice that had called out when Nathalie first entered the room.

“That will be just the thing, ‘the Princess in the Tower,’” laughed the lady lightly. “Now, Princess, I am going to leave you to entertain Miss—”

“Nathalie Page,” interposed the girl quickly, who, reassured by the laughing tone of the young girl on the couch, had begun to recover from the awkwardness of her plight. Somehow the situation appealed to the girl’s imagination and she began to enjoy it. “Oh, I ought to be the one in the tower,” she merrily asserted, “for I feel as if I were a prisoner with this funny thing over my eyes.”

“It is too bad,” cried her companion sympathetically, “but you know it is a whim of Mamma’s. You see,” she explained, “I had an accident when I was a child, and it has made me deformed—” there was a pathetic note in her voice. “Mamma is so sensitive, she is afraid that if people see me they will make unkind remarks.”