CARUSO
A WEIGHTY problem was puzzling the Stickney family. What should be the
gray bird’s name? Doodles was growing nervous under the reiterated
question, “What yer goin’ to call him?” Every visitor had a name to
offer, but the matter was not of easy disposal.
“I know Mis’ Homan thinks I ought to call him Cherry,” observed the
little owner plaintively; “but how can I! He isn’t one. And there’s
Granny! Do you s’pose she’ll feel awful bad if I don’t name him Dicky?
If ’twasn’t for Dicky Fyt—but ’tis! And his mother callin’ and callin’
him all day long! How’d anybody know which she meant?”
“Huh,” snorted Blue, “guess we shan’t name him after that kid—not much!”
“And now Mis’ George,” Doodles resumed, “I’m afraid she’s mad. She was
in here with the baby, this afternoon, and she tried to make me promise
to call him Evangeline, after her. I kep’ tellin’ her he wasn’t a girl;
but she didn’t seem to think that made any difference. I s’pose it’s a
pretty name; but you wouldn’t want it, would you, for him?” The tone was
anxious.
“Gracious, no!” was the emphatic answer. “Name him after that George
squaller!” Blue chuckled with the thought.
Doodles laughed a little in sympathy, and surveyed his brother with
admiration. Blue was always so satisfying.
At breakfast, next morning, the important question was again taken up.
“Dear me!” complained the mother, “I hope that bird will get a name
pretty soon; we can’t seem to talk of anything else.”
Blue laughed confidently. “He’ll have one before night, sure! I’m goin’
to think of somethin’ fine to─day.”
“Goin’—somethin’!” repeated Mrs. Stickney with a patient sigh. “What
would your grandfather say to hear that! With him keeping the district
school for two years before he was married, I tell you, we children had
to stand round! No cutting words short where he was!”
“Glad I wasn’t there!” grinned Blue.
“You’d have been a good deal better off than you are now,” his mother
asserted. “If I didn’t have to work in the shop, I believe I’d keep you
home from school, and teach you myself, till you could talk decently.”
“You ought to hear the other boys,” laughed Blue.
“That’s what’s the trouble. Doodles is catching it from you, and doesn’t
speak nearly as well as he used to. I wish you had better companions.”
She drew a long, regretful breath. “Well, do try, both of you, to
remember your i─n─g’s.”
“Oh! what dif’ does it make?” returned Blue easily.
“Child! dif’!—There’s the whistle!”
Correct speech was quite forgotten, as Mrs. Stickney hurried off to the
big silver shop, leaving the boys to finish their breakfast in leisure.
They did not at once go back to the question they had been discussing;
but while the elder brother was washing the dishes Doodles started it
again.
“What made you be so sure Birdie’d have a name by night?” the small boy
queried.
“Oh, I do’ know!” Blue smiled, pausing to pour a dipper of hot water
over the soapy cups and plates.
“Seems sometimes’s if he never would,” Doodles put in with a wee sigh.
“Oh, I haven’t half tried yet!” resumed the other. “Don’t you worry one
mite, old feller! Ther’ ’s lots o’ dandy names, if I could only think of
’em, and I’m goin’—going to do my honor best to─day, sure!”
Doodles laughed softly, to accompany his brother’s louder chuckle, and
rested in the promise, for, as he had reason to know, Blue’s “honor
best” was apt to be very good, indeed; and when he was left alone he and
the gray bird had a long confidential talk. It was satisfactory, too,
for although words were only on one side Doodles would have told you
that the bird surely understood all that was said to him. Didn’t he cock
his little head, and make soft, musical replies! And when he was assured
that he would soon have a name of his very own, “just like other folks,”
didn’t he actually dash off a brand─new song that left his hearer
gasping with delight!
Yet it was not Blue that first arrived with the name.
Some of the top─floor lodgers had to pass the door of the Stickney
kitchen on their way up and down stairs. Among them was a recent comer
to whom Doodles had taken a strong liking,—a young girl, small,
red─cheeked, and curly─haired, who had smiled a prompt answer to his
first friendly “Hello!” The next day she had stepped inside, to give him
a flower from the little bunch she carried, and then had lingered a
moment to hear the gray bird sing. The boy had quickly learned her step,
because of a slight lameness, and he came to watch for her as soon as
the noon whistles blew, and was disappointed when she went elsewhere for
dinner. He felt that he had a kind of fellowship with her on account of
her defect, and he longed really to know her. Today he was listening for
her halting footfall even before she had had time to reach The Flatiron.
He had not learned where she worked; but he conjectured that it must be
either at the knitting mill or the box factory. His mother was full ten
minutes in walking down from the silver shop, and the girl usually
reached home at least five minutes earlier. If she shouldn’t come at all
this noon! He wanted to tell her that his pet was really going to have a
name, for hadn’t Blue said so! There she was now! Nearer and nearer drew
the uneven steps. Doodles waited excitedly for the first glimpse of her
dark blue dress.
“Hello!” he called. “Please, will you—” She was coming, even before the
invitation was given!
“What is it, little sweetheart?” Dimples were playing about the ruddy
lips.
“I wanted to tell you that my bird is going to have a name—to─day!”
“Of course, he is! I’ve brought it!”
“You?”
“Yes, I found it right on the street.”
“Oh!—how?—what?” Doodles bent forward in his eagerness.
“I saw it on the billboards down by the theater; it’s the name of a
great singer,—Caruso.”
The child brought his little hands together with a soft breath of
delight. “Isn’t that beautiful!—Caruso! I’ve been wishin’ it would sound
like music—and it does!”
“I thought you’d like it,” she nodded.
“It is lovely! Won’t Blue be glad! Oh, Birdie dear, you’ve got a name!
you’ve got a name!” leaning over the cage, which stood always within his
reach. “Caruso—Caruso! Do you like it, dear?”
The gray bird stopped pruning his feathers, glanced archly at his little
master, and with a few joyous whistles broke into one of his captivating
songs.
“He is a wonderful singer,” praised the girl. “I’ve been wishing I could
go to hear Caruso; I’ll have to come and hear this one instead.”
“Yes, do come—any time!” urged Doodles. “But why don’t you go and hear
the other, if you want to?”
The girl laughed. “It costs money, sweetheart.” Her blue eyes grew
wistful. “Everything nice costs money.” She turned to go.
“I’m ever and ever so much obliged to you for the name,” Doodles
hastened to say. “I don’t know yours,” he suggested.
She had come back, and was looking down at him, a half─smile on her
pretty lips.
“No, you don’t, do you!” she replied gayly.
[Illustration: “I THOUGHT YOU WOULD LIKE IT”]
“It is Dorothy”—a shadow passed over the bright face—“Rose.”
“What a pretty name!” chirped Doodles. “I’m so glad you told me.”
“You can call me Dolly, if you like; some folks do. Grandpa always
does—did,” she corrected.
“Oh, I’d love to!” began the child; but the girl was already in the
hall, and she did not look back.
At the instant Blue dashed up the stairs with a clatter.
“I’ve got the dandiest name for you!” he burst out.
“Oh!” cried Doodles.
“You never could guess!” grinned his brother.
“Caruso!” piped the small boy with sudden intuition.
“How’n the world—” Blue’s face fell in amazement.
Doodles clapped his hands gleefully. “You thought I couldn’t guess, and
he’s got it already!”
Blue laughed in sheer sympathy with his brother’s joy.
“But how?” he queried.
“Dolly brought it—she” (pointing towards the girl’s door)—“Dolly Rose.”
Mrs. Stickney came just in time to hear the story of the new name, and
the dinner hour was full of unusual chatter and mirth.
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