“THE MIRACLE VOICE”
THE vision in the doorway arrested the word of welcome on Doodles’s
lips. As soon as he could command his tongue he smiled a cordial “How do
you do? Will you walk in?”
And the vision in brown cloth and creamy lace and fluffy feathers came
straight across the room and took one of his hands between her soft
gloves, saying, in the sweetest of voices, “My dear Doodles! Do you know
me?”
“I think you must be Miss Fleming,” the boy answered, “because—” he
hesitated.
“Because Daphne and I look alike?” she questioned.
Doodles shook his head. “Because you are so beautiful,” he replied
bravely.
The girl laughed her remonstrance, yet she did not appear to be
displeased, and Doodles smiled shyly up at her.
“I have come to thank you for sending your bird to me,” she began.
“Oh! did Caruso comfort you?” cried Doodles.
Her delicate face grew pinker—and even prettier, the boy thought.
“I enjoyed his singing very much,” she said. “Indeed, his coming has led
to such pleasant things, life seems to have been made all over for me.”
“I am just as glad, glad!” he rejoiced. “Caruso is a dear comforter—why,
he comforts me all the time!”
The girl’s eyes suddenly grew soft and glistening, and she gave no
response.
Caruso, with his usual courtesy, flung a little carol into the pause,
and that brought about the visitor’s asking Doodles to sing for her.
The child’s selection chanced to be Nevin’s “Little Boy Blue,” which
Leona Montgomery had taught him one rainy holiday. As always, he threw
his heart into the simple words, and they became words of life. At the
end his listener surprised him by taking both his hands in hers.
“Doodles dear, has anybody ever told you that you have a wonderful
voice?”
“Nobody but a lady who lived downstairs,” he replied modestly. “I sang
to her before she died. She said I ought to take lessons.”
“You shall,” declared Miss Fleming. “And my teacher in New York must
certainly hear you sing. I will try to manage it.”
After another song the visitor said good─bye, leaving a message for Mrs.
Stickney, which when it was given her threw the little woman into a
panic.
“Coming to see me?” she exclaimed. “For what? I shan’t know a thing to
say to her! I wish folks wouldn’t—such folks!”
But Eudora Fleming always kept her word, and her next call was in the
evening, when the mother was apt to be at home.
At first Mrs. Stickney was not quite at ease and inclined to be silent;
but the girl’s errand was of such an exciting nature that the
embarrassed tongue was soon set at liberty, and talk was free.
For Doodles to be invited to go to New York with Miss Fleming and her
sister; to think of his singing before the celebrated Italian who had
taught Miss Fleming herself; to have it suggested that he even be
examined by the great surgeon whose fees sometimes mounted into the
thousands,—all this was enough to bring quick self─forgetfulness to the
mother. It was late that night before the little apartment at the top of
The Flatiron was dark and still.
Within four days Doodles started for the big city of which he had heard
so much and which he longed to see. He was surprised and delighted to
find that the trip was to be made in a limousine instead of by train,
and when the mother saw how all had been arranged for his comfort she
let him go without a fear. The little lad’s long rides in his wheel
chair had so increased his strength that he had no misgivings at thought
of the many miles to be traveled, especially when the cushions were
piled around him until he felt never a jolt, and an extra seat was
waiting, where he could lie down for a nap if he became weary. But he
bore the journey even better than Miss Fleming had expected, and that
first night he slept soundly in his little bed in the great hotel.
The next morning the ride around the city was an unparalleled delight.
It came to an early end, for in the afternoon he was to sing for the
famous maestro with the strange─sounding name, of whom he thought he
should stand a bit in awe, but whom Miss Fleming said he need not fear
at all. So before luncheon he had a long nap, and awoke as fresh as if
he had never been tired.
When at last he was in the actual presence of Signor Castelvetro, he
found himself looking into very gentle eyes and listening to a soft,
musical voice that bade him a pleasant welcome.
To the surprise of Doodles he heard Miss Fleming talking with the
Signore in his native tongue as fluently as if she were speaking
English; but soon she turned to him, asking him to sing “Little Boy
Blue” as he had sung it for her the week before.
Without the least hesitation Doodles sang, and the song sounded even
better—so Miss Fleming thought—than in the little kitchen up in The
Flatiron.
Signor Castelvetro gave him a quick word of thanks, and with many
gestures, went on talking rapidly in mingled English and Italian, not
much of which the boy could understand. Several times he caught the
phrase, “the miracle voice,” and he wondered if it might refer to his
own, and then felt himself blushing at so foolish a conjecture.
Presently he was singing again,—“Robin Adair,” “Nae Room for Twa,”
“Lead, Kindly Light,” and others. He sang and sang, conscious only of
the music and a sympathetic audience, sometimes forgetting his audience
altogether.
The Signore’s praise was hearty and profuse, but given as it was in a
mixture of languages Doodles knew little of what was said. Still he was
sure that the great man liked his singing, and that made him glad
indeed.
“My pupeels haf a musicale to─morrow efening,” Signor Castelvetro was
saying. “I s’all be verra happee if you will sing for us.” He waited,
smiling down on Doodles.
The lad glanced questioningly at Miss Fleming.
“You would like to sing?” she queried. “You would not be afraid?”
“I always like to sing,” was his simple answer. “No, I shall not be
afraid. There is nothing to be afraid of, is there?” He turned trustful
eyes to the Signore.
“No, no, you of the miracle voice haf not’ing to fear!” The smile was
tender as a mother’s.
So it was true—what he had not dared to believe! Could it be like one of
the beautiful Bible miracles—his voice? He was wondering about it
through all the arrangement of details, and he bade the Signore good─bye
still in a whirl of thought.
“Didn’t he sing beautifully?” exclaimed Daphne, as the little party
settled itself in the limousine. “I am so glad you are going to sing at
the musicale!” She gave Doodles a loving little squeeze.
“Are you tired, dear?” inquired Miss Fleming anxiously.
“Not a bit,” was the happy answer. “I haven’t had anything to make me
tired.”
“Except the singing.”
“Oh, it never tires me to sing!” smiled Doodles.
So as the little face showed no sign of weariness Miss Fleming gave
Barrow the order, “To the park,” instead of returning directly to the
hotel. There Doodles saw so many novel and interesting things that for
the time he forgot the chief of his thoughts,—when should he go to the
great surgeon whose word was to bring him joy or sorrow? But after
luncheon he said to himself, “It is coming now—in an hour or two!” Yet
Miss Fleming went out by herself, and stayed away all the afternoon,
leaving Daphne and Doodles to the care of Laure, her maid. They had a
happy time with some new books and photographs; but through it all
buzzed the questions, “When will it be? What will the doctor say?”
On the following morning, by appointment, the party started early for
the Signore’s, where Doodles’s part of the evening’s programme was to be
rehearsed.
As they entered the room and the maestro came forward to greet them,
Doodles chanced to look beyond the broad shoulders of the Signore to a
boy at a farther window. He was fingering a violin. One glance at the
dark face was enough, and he gave a glad little cry. The boy looked up,
dropped his instrument, and dashed across the floor, embracing Doodles
in the arms of the astonished Barrow, and kissing him on lip and cheek.
Miss Fleming and Signor Castelvetro stopped speaking to gaze, while
Daphne so far forgot herself as to push between the two in her eagerness
to see what was going on.
It was the privilege of Doodles to introduce Christarchus to his
friends, and he was pleased to see that the gentle Greek lad was
received with favor by Miss Fleming.
The Signore smiled delightedly upon everybody, assuring them that this
was “a verra bleesful acceedent,” inasmuch as it promised perfect
sympathy between singer and accompanist.
The rehearsal went off merrily. When “Annie Laurie” was mentioned,
Christarchus showed his white teeth in a brilliant smile.
“I t’ink we try eet once, and Caruso—!” his slim hands ended the
sentence in a way that sent Doodles into a gleeful little laugh.
“Caruso?” queried the Signore with a puzzled scowl.
“My mocking bird,” explained Doodles. “He sings ‘Annie Laurie’ very
nicely, but that time he sang one of his queer medleys and broke us all
up.”
The boys laughed again at the amusing remembrance before they could
settle down to the song; but the Signore smiled indulgently, the
intimate friendship of the lads seeming to please him.
When they separated, Doodles was delighted to hear Miss Fleming invite
Christarchus to lunch with them the next day, and he said good─bye
feeling that only one thing more was needed to make his cup of happiness
very full indeed.
The musicale was an undoubted success, and that part in which Doodles
and Christarchus were naturally most interested was not the least
applauded of the programme. Doodles was given sufficient praise to turn
the head of a less modest performer; but he received it all with his
usual artless courtesy and open pleasure, charming those who took the
pains to speak with him.
Signor Castelvetro assured him that he could easily obtain a good choir
position if he would come to New York, adding as an inducement that he
should be glad to give him lessons free of charge. But Miss Fleming, on
behalf of Doodles, while she thanked the Signore for his kindness,
smiled a firm refusal.
Although the day following was their last in the city, the talked─of
call upon the surgeon was not mentioned. Doodles dared not ask, and thus
even the visit of Christarchus lost some of its anticipated joy.
Late in the afternoon, when Daphne had gone out with Laure for a little
last shopping, and Doodles and Miss Fleming were left alone, he ventured
a wistful question.
“Aren’t we going to see that doctor before we go home?”
The girl laid down the book she was reading, and came over to his chair.
“Dear boy,” she said, “I saw him on Wednesday. Have you been thinking
about it all this time?”
Doodles bowed his answer—words would not come.
“I ought to have told you,” she regretted, “but I was afraid of spoiling
the rest of your visit. The doctor thought,” she went on slowly, “it was
not necessary to see you. He said he was unusually busy, and that the
examination would only cause pain and be of no use. He thinks—” her
voice faltered.
“That I can’t ever walk,” Doodles concluded softly.
The girl caught him in her arms with a sob.
“Oh, dear boy!” she cried, “I wish you could!”
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