The musicale was an undoubted success, and that part in which Doodles and Christarchus were naturally most interested was not the least applauded of the programme. Doodles was given sufficient praise to turn the head of a less modest performer; but he received it all with his usual artless courtesy and open pleasure, charming those who took the pains to speak with him.
Signor Castelvetro assured him that he could easily obtain a good choir position if he would come to New York, adding as an inducement that he should be glad to give him lessons free of charge. But Miss Fleming, on behalf of Doodles, while she thanked the Signore for his kindness, smiled a firm refusal.
Although the day following was their last in the city, the talked-of call upon the surgeon was not mentioned. Doodles dared not ask, and thus even the visit of Christarchus lost some of its anticipated joy.
Late in the afternoon, when Daphne had gone out with Laure for a little last shopping, and Doodles and Miss Fleming were left alone, he ventured a wistful question.
“Aren’t we going to see that doctor before we go home?”
The girl laid down the book she was reading, and came over to his chair.
“Dear boy,” she said, “I saw him on Wednesday. Have you been thinking about it all this time?”
Doodles bowed his answer—words would not come.
“I ought to have told you,” she regretted, “but I was afraid of spoiling the rest of your visit. The doctor thought,” she went on slowly, “it was not necessary to see you. He said he was unusually busy, and that the examination would only cause pain and be of no use. He thinks—” her voice faltered.
“That I can’t ever walk,” Doodles concluded softly.