At sight of Caruso Doodles held out both arms, with a little cry. His brother set the cage on his knees, and the bird sprang up to the top perch to cuddle against his master’s soft cheek.
Doodles and Caruso went to sleep that night side by side. “I want him right where I can put my hand on the cage when I wake up,” said the boy. “Then I shall know his coming back wasn’t a dream.”
CHAPTER IV
DOODLES TURNS MATCHMAKER
It rained; but no merry, independent little drops tinkled upon the panes. Mother Nature appeared to be housecleaning, and torrents of water were dashed against the windows. Doodles watched the work outside while Caruso plumed his feathers. When the long toilet was completed, the bird and the boy were ready for a chat,—happy, crooning talk on the one side, soft, tuneful notes on the other.
Footfalls were on the stairs. Somebody was coming up, with light, running steps.
“Sounds like Mr. Gaylord,” Doodles told Caruso.
Presently a young man appeared, his trim suit of dark cheviot corresponding with the bright, smiling face which he turned towards the Stickney kitchen.
“Hello, Doodles!” The blithe voice was enough to make one forget such things as cloudy skies and autumn housecleaning.
“Hello!” the boy responded joyfully. “Take the rocking-chair, Mr. Gaylord,—do!”