Blue stood, big-eyed, in the pantry doorway, arrested in his hunt for a suitable bathtub for the singer; the mother quite forgot her scorching potatoes; and Doodles himself, with both arms around the cage, crooned words of endearment in the ears of the little songster.
Granny O’Donnell’s astonishing reports of Blue’s twenty-five-cent purchase spread through the big tenement house, until old and young tripped or hobbled up to the top floor to see the surprising handful of feathers that could “sing loike a blissid a-angil.” A long bath and a still longer toilet in the sun brought the ragged Bargain to something like sleekness, and he began the promise of making good his little master’s first praise. On rainy days, when shut-in neighbors were apt to be neighborly and numerous, the gray bird sometimes sulked on the end of his perch and refused to sing, possibly too strongly reminded of his dismal surroundings in the bird shop. But as soon as the sunshine returned he would promptly forget the past and graciously display his wonderful gift to all that came.
CHAPTER II
CARUSO
A weighty problem was puzzling the Stickney family. What should be the gray bird’s name? Doodles was growing nervous under the reiterated question, “What yer goin’ to call him?” Every visitor had a name to offer, but the matter was not of easy disposal.
“I know Mis’ Homan thinks I ought to call him Cherry,” observed the little owner plaintively; “but how can I! He isn’t one. And there’s Granny! Do you s’pose she’ll feel awful bad if I don’t name him Dicky? If ’twasn’t for Dicky Fyt—but ’tis! And his mother callin’ and callin’ him all day long! How’d anybody know which she meant?”
“Huh,” snorted Blue, “guess we shan’t name him after that kid—not much!”
“And now Mis’ George,” Doodles resumed, “I’m afraid she’s mad. She was in here with the baby, this afternoon, and she tried to make me promise to call him Evangeline, after her. I kep’ tellin’ her he wasn’t a girl; but she didn’t seem to think that made any difference. I s’pose it’s a pretty name; but you wouldn’t want it, would you, for him?” The tone was anxious.
“Gracious, no!” was the emphatic answer. “Name him after that George squaller!” Blue chuckled with the thought.
Doodles laughed a little in sympathy, and surveyed his brother with admiration. Blue was always so satisfying.