“Why not?”
“Mr. Gaylord says—oh, read it yourself!”
The boy grabbed the sheet, and the mother crossed over to where Doodles sat, big-eyed and sorrowful.
“You poor darling!” She took the little face between her palms, and stooped to kiss him.
“Never mind!” he smiled bravely, but the smile broke, and he hid his face in her dress.
“Dear People,” Blue read aloud, “Mrs. Graham has just taken it into her head that she must start for Windsor at ten o’clock—I feel like turning turtle, car and all! If I were not too big a boy, I’d do the next thing,—have a good—or bad—cry. I’ll take you to ride some day, if I have to hire a car for it!
“Tragically yours,
“Giles Gaylord.”
“It’s a confounded shame!” He flung the note on the floor.
“Blue Stickney!”