The boy whistled softly the opening strain of “Annie Laurie,” but the bird continued to preen a ruffled feather or two. The air ended, yet Caruso was still silent.
“It takes my brother to set him going,” Blue explained, somewhat nettled at the bird’s indifference.
Livelier tunes were tried, and then, just as the boy was beginning to wonder if, after all, Caruso were going to disappoint than, he burst into a torrent of song, ending, as often, with the beloved “Annie Laurie.”
Blue was so interested in the way the mocker was “showing off,” that he did not at first notice the very evident excitement of Miss Fleming. But as soon as the singing ceased, she darted across to the cage with a murmured word which the boy did not catch. Then she turned to him, questioning almost sharply:—
“Where did you get this bird?”
“I bought him of a girl who bid him off at an auction.”
“The very one!” she cried in soft, joyful tones. “I know! I know!” bending closer to scrutinize the singer.
“What is it, Eudora?” Daphne ran over to her sister.
The girl hesitated, while a pretty color flushed her cheeks.
“I think,” she began, “it must be the mocker that—that a friend of mine lost a year—no, a year and a half ago.” She turned to the boy whose heart had suddenly gone sick. “How long have you had him?”