“My, what a lot!” he exclaimed under his breath.
Mr. Gillespie gave him a pleased nod over Caruso’s cage, from which he was carefully removing the newspaper covering.
The bird, contrary to his usual custom with strangers, did not appear to be at all afraid of the Scotchman, but, turning his bright eyes this way and that, surveyed with evident curiosity his attractive surroundings.
The first to give him a musical salutation was a cardinal in the bay window, which began a series of soft, sweet whistles. These notes seemed to rouse the rest of the family, for shortly a concert was in full swing.
The singing strangely excited Caruso. He pranced from end to end of his perches, occasionally standing motionless as if to listen, and then darting off again in a wild dance. At last he could keep silent no longer, and a flood of music poured from his bursting throat which all but drowned the other voices. Indeed, in a moment he had the stage quite to himself, and was singing as he had never sung even for his beloved little master.
Blue actually held his breath, as if fearing to miss a note of the marvelous performance; and the old Scotchman, accustomed as he was to all manner of feathered songsters, gazed at the disabled gray bird in surprise and admiration. It was as if the robin, the oriole, the cardinal, the song sparrow, the bluebird, and a host of others, were in that little swelling throat. And this was interspersed with the mewing of cats, the grunting of pigs, the cackling of hens, the call of the Katy-dids, and the myriad sounds of country life. The singer finally ended with the first notes of “Annie Laurie,” breaking off suddenly in the middle of a measure to stand with drooping head, as if trying to recollect the rest.
Without hesitation Sandy Gillespie caught up the air where Caruso dropped it, and whistled it through, the bird still motionless upon his perch.
That was enough. Memory gave back to the singer what he had almost lost, and with a little prelude of his own he slipped into the old song, stopping only with the last note.
“Weel dune, birdie! weel dune!” praised the Scotchman in a soft voice, while Caruso pirouetted about like a pleased child.
The man smiled, and going to a tiny wall cupboard fetched something which he placed in the bird’s cage.