In two days came Saturday, and Doodles asked Blue how far it was out to the Flemings’.
“Oh! I do’ know, maybe a couple o’ miles. Thinkin’ of making ’em a call?” Blue’s merry eyes met the serious ones of Doodles.
The small boy shook his head with a gravity that made the brother feel his little joke to be ill-timed.
“I am very sorry for Miss Fleming,” Doodles said, “and I’ve been wondering what I could do to comfort her.”
“You?” broke out Blue, scenting difficulties ahead.
“Yes, and I think the best way is to let Caruso do it. If he’d sing for her as he did for me this morning, while you were gone, I am sure she would feel happier. And then it would be very nice for you to go there and see the beautiful house,” he went on artlessly. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Blue shivered inside. “Oh, I don’t believe he’d sing!” he cried irrelevantly.
“I think he will, for I’ve told him all about it, and I’m sure he understands.”
“Well, sometime, maybe,” yielded Blue.
“Won’t this afternoon be a good time?” asked Doodles wistfully.