“Three years?” prompted Doodles.
The boy shook his head.
“Months?”
He smiled. “Yes, t’anks, t’ree months I go school here—America. I go school—Athens.”
“Oh! did you live in Athens?” Doodles was interested.
“Yes,” the boy nodded. Then a thought filled his eyes with light. “I play!” He darted off, across the hall, returning with a violin, which he began to finger in a way that roused Doodles’s admiration.
He lifted it to his shoulder, and drew his bow across the strings, holding the instrument caressingly, as if it were a living thing.
Doodles sat entranced through the playing. Never had he heard such music.
The player slipped into the tune of “Annie Laurie,” with a peremptory, “You sing!” And Doodles began, half shyly, but soon he was the chief performer, the violin playing a soft accompaniment.
On the second verse Caruso joined them with his mellow whistle, the effect being startlingly sweet and delightful.