"Oh, Dr. Temple!" he began eagerly, "do you think Mr. Randolph would like to have me sing for him?"
The physician looked the lad over gravely. He was so long about it, Doodles wondered if his boots were dusty and the Doctor were disapproving them. Then came the answer.
"Probably not."
"But he did like to hear me sing the other night when he was at our house. He said so. And when I heard how he is suffering, I thought perhaps I could make him forget it." His appealing brown eyes looked straight into those keen blue ones that the physician's admirers thought saw everything.
Dr. Temple considered a moment. "Come in!" he said.
Doodles followed where he led, which was into the first room beyond the entrance.
"Sing!" was the order.
Doodles, not in the least abashed, stood where he was, in the middle of the reception room, and began.
Soft, soft as the crooning of a mother bird, came the first notes.
"Peace…peace…peace I leave with you." Gently the music rose, the lad's voice beautifully modulated to suit the time and place. "My peace…my peace I give unto you:…not as the world giveth…not as the world giveth…give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled…let not your heart be troubled…let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid."