At dinner he was unusually quiet, and he ate but little.
“You’d better begin on that tonic again,” his mother decided, and after the meal she fetched a bottle from the cupboard and prepared him a dose. Poor Doodles! What tonic could reach this new and startling trouble! But he swallowed it meekly, and did not know whether it were bitter or sweet.
Next morning he was pale and haggard, and confessed, on being questioned, that he had lain awake a long time in the night.
Mrs. Stickney shook her head gravely, and reproached herself again for having allowed him to go to the settlement concert. “I ought to have known better!” she said over and over.
After she had gone to the shop, and while Blue was washing the breakfast dishes, Caruso began to sing. The accompanying rattle of the knives and plates seemed to spur him on, for he put in all his usual notes and many others, and sang “Annie Laurie” twice through without stopping.
“Don’t he go it, this morning!” exclaimed Blue, as the bird stopped suddenly, and hopped down to his water cup, to refresh his throat.
There was no response from Doodles, and the elder boy turned to see his brother with head towards the window.
“That was a dandy performance, wasn’t it, kiddie?” Blue persisted.
No answer.
“What’s the matter, old man? Feel worse?”