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Updated: June 14, 2025
But there was little need of a candle in Eyebright's room that night, for the shutters stood open, and a bright full moon shone in, making every thing as distinct, almost, as it was in the daytime. She was not a bit sleepy, but she didn't mind being sent to bed, at all, for bedtime often meant to her only a second playtime which she had all to herself.
Presently, to Eyebright's terror, he began to talk rapidly to himself, not to her at all, as it seemed. "It must go," he said, in a quick, excited way. "I don't mind what I pay or what risk I run. Do you think I'm going to lose every thing? lose every thing? other people's money? " A long pause; then, "What's a wetting?" he went on, in a loud tone "that's nothing.
Joyce privately feared that the trowel would become very rusty, and Eyebright's cave be apt to fill with water when the weather was wet; but he would not spoil her pleasure by making these objections.
Here are their names on the bottle!" "It's easy enough to make up a name or two if you want 'em," muttered Wealthy. Then, seeing that Mrs. Bright looked troubled, she was sorry she had spoken, and made haste to add, "However, the medicine may be first-rate medicine, and if it does you good, Mrs. Bright, we'll crack it up everywhere, that we will." Eyebright's bedtime was come.
But everywhere, all through the house, were neatness, solid comfort, and that spirit of family affection which makes any house pleasant, no matter how pretty or how ugly it may be; and this atmosphere of loving-kindness was as reviving to Eyebright's drooping spirits as real sunshine is to a real plant, drenched and beaten down by heavy storms.
The kitchen looked very queer and crowded, for Mr. Downs had brought down a mattress from upstairs, and made a bed on the floor, upon which Eyebright's "man" was now sleeping. His wet clothes had been changed for some dry ones belonging to Mr. Bright, and, altogether, he looked far less wild and forlorn than he had appeared to be the night before, though he evidently was seriously ill. Mrs.
She found it hard to believe that mamma ever had been young and active, and able to go about and walk and do the things which other people did. Eyebright's very first recollections of her were of a pale, ailing person always in bed or on the sofa, complaining of headache and backache, and general misery, coming downstairs once or twice in a year perhaps, and even then being the worse for it.
Sister Orphah, too, had a scheme for returning to the world's people perhaps they might go together. The idea of these "good times" rather tickled Eyebright's imagination. For a few minutes she reflected that perhaps it might be a pleasant thing to come and join the Shakers.
"At the Island?" she asked, drowsily. "No, not at the Island yet. This is the steamboat." To see a steamboat had always been one of Eyebright's chief wishes, but she was too sleepy at that moment to realize that it was granted. Her feet stumbled as papa guided her down the stair; she could not keep her eyes open at all.
When Eyebright went downstairs, she found a white napkin, her favorite mug filled with milk, a plateful of bread and butter and cold lamb, and a large pickled peach, awaiting her on the kitchen table. Wealthy hovered about as she took her seat, and seemed to have a disposition to pat Eyebright's shoulder a good deal, and to stroke her hair.
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