“I wanted to tell you that my bird is going to have a name—to-day!”
“Of course, he is! I’ve brought it!”
“You?”
“Yes, I found it right on the street.”
“Oh!—how?—what?” Doodles bent forward in his eagerness.
“I saw it on the billboards down by the theater; it’s the name of a great singer,—Caruso.”
The child brought his little hands together with a soft breath of delight. “Isn’t that beautiful!—Caruso! I’ve been wishin’ it would sound like music—and it does!”
“I thought you’d like it,” she nodded.
“It is lovely! Won’t Blue be glad! Oh, Birdie dear, you’ve got a name! you’ve got a name!” leaning over the cage, which stood always within his reach. “Caruso—Caruso! Do you like it, dear?”
The gray bird stopped pruning his feathers, glanced archly at his little master, and with a few joyous whistles broke into one of his captivating songs.