The mother gained but slowly, the third week at home found her still unable to work, and the question that constantly confronted her was, “What will become of us?”
Granny O’Donnell, whose income was ample for her slender needs, had been an actual fairy godmother to the boys during those lonely hospital days, and now she was continually cooking more food than she could eat, and bringing the surplus up to the Stickney kitchen. Frequently, too, small bills would be discovered hiding under a plate of doughnuts, a pan of rice, or a pot of beans. Mrs. Stickney felt that this must not be allowed too long, and if she could not work—what then? The worry was kept from Doodles as much as possible, yet his mother saw with a heartache that he was graver than usual, and, in consequence, she sang when it would have been easier to cry, hoping night after night that the next morning would see the return of her old strength.
After a little she did gain sufficiently to permit her to resume her place in the shop; but she found it impossible to work at her former speed, and her weekly envelope sometimes held less than half her usual pay.
“Say, mother!” Blue burst in with, on a May afternoon, “Miss Holcomb wants to know if Doodles and Caruso can come up to the settlement to-night. They’re going to have a concert, and they want Doodles to play and Caruso to sing—yes, and Doodles to sing, too!”
“Why, I—don’t know,” Mrs. Stickney began, glancing uncertainly towards the cushioned chair. But the boy’s face decided it, radiant as it was with the sudden prospect. “I guess it won’t hurt him,” she finished.
They started at seven o’clock, Blue and Joseph Sitnitsky with Doodles between them, and Mrs. Stickney carrying Caruso and the violin. Fears that strange surroundings and the somewhat noisy crowd might frighten the little gray singer into silence were presently forgotten, for as soon as the lights went low and the cage was placed in the bright rays of the full moon the slim bird began his wonderful song.
The audience, having been warned against demonstrations, was almost mouselike in quietness, and the singer went on and on as carelessly merry as if he were caroling in the home kitchen. A few of his hearers knew what to expect from him, but to the majority his marvelous singing was as novel as it was entertaining. When, at last, he broke off suddenly to scold at a tiny girl who had strayed from her mother and too near his cage, the assembly burst into such applause as was unusual even at the concerts of the Cherry Street Settlement.
After that Doodles sang “Old Folks at Home,” and was encored so heartily and so long that he gave “Edinboro Town,” one of his mother’s favorites when she was in a gay mood. Further along on the programme he played several simple melodies on his violin, and as he slipped into “Annie Laurie” he glanced towards Caruso, whose cage had been set back into the shadow. Quite as if awaiting a signal, the bird struck into tune, and away they soared together, the mocker and the violin, to the uncontrolled delight of the audience.
After the entertainment Caruso held an impromptu reception, for everybody wanted a closer view of the slim gray bird with the astonishing powers of song. Many questions were asked for Doodles to answer, and the small boy reached home too excited to do anything but talk. It was long after midnight before he could sleep.
“I ought to have known better than to let him go,” regretted the mother; but Blue argued, “It won’t hurt him! Will it, old feller?” And Doodles, his eyes shining out of his weariness, declared in favor of his brother.