There was another who was not content to be silent. The boys had not counted on the mocking bird, but suddenly he started one of his amusing medleys. Discords increased, and at last, with a chuckle, the violinist dropped his instrument, Doodles doubled over in a laugh, and Caruso was left as star performer.
The new friends talked, the stranger telling, in his meager English, of his home in Athens, of the gentle mother whom he could barely remember, and of how she had named him Christarchus Apostus because she wished him to be an apostle of Christ; of the father who thought him better fitted for a musician than a preacher; of their dream of America, and, when money grew scarce and scarcer, of their resolve to seek their fortune across the wide sea. He told of their hopeful departure from the land of flowers and fruit and sunny skies, of the terrifying ocean voyage; and, lastly, of their engagement in the orchestra, where they played the violin every night.
After this recital came more music, Caruso being too busy at his food cup for interruption. The concert was still proceeding when the young visitor’s father appeared at the head of the stairs, and “My Old Kentucky Home” came to a sudden end.
“We had a lovely time,” Doodles told his mother, and at once launched into the history of his short acquaintance with “the new boy.” He had not finished when Mr. Gaylord arrived with delightful news—he had seen Dolly Moon, had actually been at her home in Pebbleton, and she had sent to Doodles a quart of cream, a basket of apples, and a jar of clover honey. She had been waiting for a letter, having overlooked the truth—that her Flatiron friends did not know where she lived, and she was very much ashamed of her forgetfulness and of her neglect to write to them. The young man had discovered her by accident. He had been taking his employer, Mrs. Graham, to an adjoining town, and in passing through Pebbleton he had spied the girl at a window. Feeling sure that he could not be mistaken, he had obtained permission, after leaving Mrs. Graham at her friend’s, to run back to Pebbleton. The result had justified his hopes, and he was in an unwonted elation of spirits that the Stickney family did not fail to observe.
Doodles ended his supper with honey and cream, and he thought he had never tasted anything half so nice.
“It has been a most wonderful day,” he confided to Caruso when he said good-night.
CHAPTER VIII
THE STRIKE
Blue joined his mother in the little dark bedroom, whither she had stealthily beckoned him.
She closed the door, and pulled him to a farther corner, beyond the keen ears of Doodles.