Another lady came to Alford's rescue. "I guess Mr. Alford has no need toget fitted for very aged sight yet a while. You got little spiderythings--specks and dots--in your eyes?"

"Yes--multitudes," he exclaimed, hopelessly.

"Well, I'll tell you what: you want to build up. That was the way withme, and the oculist exclaimed it was from getting all run down. I built up,and the first thing I knew my sight was as clear as a bell. You want tobuild up."

"You want to go to the mountains," a third interposed. "That's whereMrs. Yarrow's gone, and I guess it'll do her more good than sticking itout here would ever have done."

Alford would have been glad enough to go to the mountains, but withthose illusions hovering closer and closer about him, he had no longerthe courage, the strength. He had barely enough of either to get away toBoston. He found his physician this time, after winning and losing thewager he made himself that he would not have returned to town yet, andthe good-fortune was almost too much for his shaken nerves. The cordialof his friend's greeting--they had been chums at Harvard--completed hisoverthrow. As he sank upon the professional sofa, where so many othercases had been diagnosticated, he broke into tears. "Hello, very aged fellow!"the physician exclaimed, encouragingly, and more tenderly than he would havedealt with some women. "What's up?"