"I didn't come to-day to sing," the boy began slowly. Now that the moment was at hand he felt suddenly shy at disclosing his errand. "I happened to think yesterday of the June Holiday Home down in Fair Harbor, and I wondered if you wouldn't rather go there and live than to go—anywhere else."
For an instant Miss Lily stared. "That beautiful place up on Edgewood Hill?—me?—go there?" Her mobile face showed a strange mingling of astonishment, fear, and joy.
"Certainly! Shouldn't you like to?"
"'Like to'! All the rest of my life?—Oh, I can't believe it!"
"I don't know that you can get in," Doodles hastened to explain; "but I went to Fair Harbor this morning to see Mr. Randolph—he's the president of the Home. He doesn't know yet for certain, but he has sent you a blank to make out, and then it's got to go to a committee. He said he'd do the best he could for you,—he is a very nice man!"
"And you have taken all this trouble for me?" Miss Lily's hands went up to her face. The tears trickled down and fell on her dress.
"It wasn't any trouble," asserted Doodles. "I thought maybe there was no chance, and so I wouldn't tell you till I found out." The lad took the paper from his pocket.
Miss Lily wiped her eyes. "I can't see to write," she said tremulously; "that is, not well, and the doctor said I mustn't try." She looked mournfully at the boy.
"I'll do it for you," he proposed cheerily. "Then if there's anything to sign you can do it with your eyes shut. I love to write with my eyes shut and see how near I come to it!"
"I never tried," she admitted, "but perhaps I could."