The keen gray eyes looked straight at the boy.
"Yes, sir," Doodles smiled, "though a very new one. I never saw her till yesterday."
The eyes bent upon him widened a little.
The lad told his story as simply as possible, touching lightly upon his own part in it. "And so," he ended artlessly, his appealing brown eyes looking straight into the steady gray ones, "I thought, even if there were rules and patches and things she didn't like, it would be better than the poorhouse."
A little amused smile replaced the hint of surprise on the man's face.
"Where do you sing?" he asked abruptly.
"At St. Bartholomew's Church, Foxford."
"Did you come down expressly to see me about this?"
"Yes, sir," answered Doodles.
"How did you know I was here?"