“I always like to sing,” was his simple answer. “No, I shall not be afraid. There is nothing to be afraid of, is there?” He turned trustful eyes to the Signore.
“No, no, you of the miracle voice haf not’ing to fear!” The smile was tender as a mother’s.
So it was true—what he had not dared to believe! Could it be like one of the beautiful Bible miracles—his voice? He was wondering about it through all the arrangement of details, and he bade the Signore good-bye still in a whirl of thought.
“Didn’t he sing beautifully?” exclaimed Daphne, as the little party settled itself in the limousine. “I am so glad you are going to sing at the musicale!” She gave Doodles a loving little squeeze.
“Are you tired, dear?” inquired Miss Fleming anxiously.
“Not a bit,” was the happy answer. “I haven’t had anything to make me tired.”
“Except the singing.”
“Oh, it never tires me to sing!” smiled Doodles.
So as the little face showed no sign of weariness Miss Fleming gave Barrow the order, “To the park,” instead of returning directly to the hotel. There Doodles saw so many novel and interesting things that for the time he forgot the chief of his thoughts,—when should he go to the great surgeon whose word was to bring him joy or sorrow? But after luncheon he said to himself, “It is coming now—in an hour or two!” Yet Miss Fleming went out by herself, and stayed away all the afternoon, leaving Daphne and Doodles to the care of Laure, her maid. They had a happy time with some new books and photographs; but through it all buzzed the questions, “When will it be? What will the doctor say?”
On the following morning, by appointment, the party started early for the Signore’s, where Doodles’s part of the evening’s programme was to be rehearsed.