When Blue reached home there was much to tell, so much, indeed, that the writing of the message to Mr. Selden was put off till evening and Doodles was in bed. Mrs. Stickney was the boy’s ready reference on spelling; but the rest of the letter, except for a few periods and commas, was his own, and it cost him two hours of hard work. He copied and recopied, until the supply of paper that Miss Fleming had given him came to an end, and he was obliged to use a sheet from his mother’s meager stock, which, of course, did not match his dainty envelope. So the question arose whether it would not be better to wait until Monday, when he could buy what was needed. But Blue repeated what Miss Fleming had said about the importance of Mr. Selden’s hearing of the matter at once, and it was finally decided that so small a thing as the dissimilarity of paper and envelope would not be regarded by a man who was “not critical,” and, at last, the boy went to bed with the consciousness that he had done his best.
Ten days later, when Morton Selden read the superscription in the stiff, untrained hand, there was puzzlement in his eyes; but the postmark of his home town hastened his hand, and he cut open the letter. He read it carefully, stopping now and then to reread a phrase before going on.
Dear Mr. Selden:—
I bought a mocking-bird a year ago for twenty-five cents, because a girl who had bid it off at an auction was scaring it to death and didn’t want it. Now Miss Eudora Fleming says it is your bird. I bought it for my brother who can’t walk. He loves the bird something fierce. It would sure kill Doodles to have to let it go. Miss Fleming says you will not take it away from him, because she says you are the best man in the world. So I hope you won’t. I took Caruso out to her house this afternoon for Doodles, because he thought Caruso would comfort her. He sings fine. She has got nervous prostration, though she does not look sick. She is the prettiest girl I ever saw. I tried to have her write to you, for she said Caruso was sure your Jacky, and you ought to know right away. But she wouldn’t, and I had to. I hope you will excuse my bad writing. She could do it a great deal better, but she said, oh, no, she couldn’t, and made me promise I would. She was glad as if it was her bird, and said you loved Jacky and would be so glad to know he was safe. I wish you could have seen her when she was talking about it, she did look something beautiful. Her eyes shone so it most took my breath away. I guess she’s a princess all right, just as Tillie Shook says she looks like. She said she knew you wouldn’t take it from Doodles, because you are so sympathetic. Please let him keep it.
Hoping you are well, I am
Yours very truly,
Blue Stickney.
In less than a fortnight Blue received the following:—
My dear friend:—
Your letter brought me more pleasure than had come to me since I left America. I congratulate you on knowing how to interest a correspondent.