Mothah said I might be the one to tell, 'cause I'm so glad and proud, I don't know what to do.

You know that little poem that you gave to mothah, called 'Night ?' Well, she sent it away to an editah, and he has published it in this papah with yo' name at the bottom,--Elizabeth Lloyd Lewis! Now aren't you stuck up?
We are all so proud of you we don't know what to do." Betty stretched out one trembling hand for the paper, and involuntarily the other went up to her eyes to push away the bandages.

"Let me see it," she cried, eagerly, but the thrill of gladness in her voice died in a pitiful little note of despair as she whispered, brokenly, "Oh, I forgot! I can't see!" But the next instant her hand was groping for the paper again.

"Where is it ?" she asked.

"Let me feel it, anyway.