“AULD LANG SYNE”
ON the Saturday before New Year’s Day Doodles went home. Giles Gaylord
and his wife came for him, and he wore his Christmas presents from Miss
Fleming, a long fur coat and a cap to match. The nurses pressed about
him with happy words, Dr. Dudley walked beside him to the door, while
Miss Eden and Polly went as far as the car and then scampered back to
linger at the window for a last good─bye.
The air was keen, but Doodles, snug beneath the robes, was warm as need
be.
Giles drove fast. In a little while they passed the postoffice in
Carleton, then the granite church at Berryville, and not long afterwards
the outskirts of Foxford came in sight.
Doodles grew eager as familiar objects were whizzed by. When the car
turned into Cherry Street he sat motionless, looking ahead where The
Flatiron showed in the distance.
“I wonder if Granny will be at the window—yes, there she is! And Mrs.
Jimmy George!” Doodles waved his hand high and joyously. Granny was
waving both of hers!
The car had slowed, but it was going past! Oh, they would turn
round—that was it! But no! They were leaving The Flatiron behind! He
looked inquiringly at Dorothy.
“We are going for a little longer drive,” she smiled.
That was queer. Doodles felt a bit disappointed. It was nice to ride
farther, but he was in a hurry to see his mother and Blue. Never mind,
he would be back before long. But on and on they went.
“This is the road to the Flemings’, isn’t it?” Doodles asked at length.
Dorothy assented. She put her arm around him. “Are you tired?”
“Not a mite,” he told her.
And at that minute they neared the house on the knoll, and turned in at
the great stone gateway. Were they going for a call, Doodles asked
himself. No, they whizzed directly by the door. Truly this was a most
mysterious ride!
On a branch driveway was a little bungalow. Doodles had once noticed how
pretty it was. Straight towards the tiny house sped the car. Why, there
was Blue out in front! And his mother, with a shawl over her head! She
ran down from the veranda. As the car stopped she was ready to take
Doodles in her arms.
“I can’t go up and down steps very well yet,” he said.
There was no need. Eager hands were about him.
“How do you like it?” cried Blue.
“What?”
“Our new home,” Blue answered, and laughed to see his brother’s widening
eyes. “We’ve moved out here!” he announced.
“And not going back to The Flatiron?” queried Doodles.
“Never!” was the prompt reply.
“Isn’t that beautiful!” exclaimed the lad.
“To think of your walking along just like anybody!” marveled Mrs.
Stickney. “I can’t believe it yet!” she continued to Dorothy, as they
hurried inside.
Doodles had to tell how he wondered and wondered when they did not stop
at The Flatiron, and whom he saw at the windows, before his brother
would be satisfied.
After the Gaylords were gone Blue must show the newcomer all over the
little bungalow, the happy mother following them and putting an arm
around each boy every time they stopped to admire a new piece of
furniture or the view from a window.
“The house was intended for the gardener,” Blue explained; “but he went
back to Scotland before it was done, and so it was empty, and Mrs.
Fleming and mother fixed it up together that we’d come here to live. I’m
going in to school every day on the trolley, and next spring you are to
go!”
“O—h!” breathed Doodles delightedly.
“And I shall take my dinner, and be gone all day! S’pose you’ll be
lonesome?”
“Now, Blue!” interposed his mother.
“You just wait!” giggled Blue. “Shall you, Doodles?”
“Why, I shall miss you and mother, of course; but I shan’t mind being
alone—I can walk, you know! Will mother carry her dinner, too?”
This was what Blue had been waiting for. “No!” he chuckled. “She isn’t
going on the trolley either!”
“Don’t tease him, Blue! Tell him all about it!” laughed Mrs. Stickney.
“I must go down and see to my muffins.”
“What is it?” begged Doodles. “I can’t wait a minute longer!”
“Mother has given up working in the shop!”
“Oh, how lovely!”
“She’s going to do mending for Mrs. Fleming, and make some dresses for
Daphne, and sew for the rest of ’em,—I do’ know what,—and help out any
time. And they don’t charge us a cent more here than we paid at The
Flatiron, and the steam is brought right down in pipes from their house!
The wires come from there, too! Did you see we’ve got electricity?”
No, Doodles had not noticed, and he must be shown how each fixture
worked.
“Isn’t it nice that you found Daphne?” reflected the small boy happily.
“Nicer that you made me carry Caruso out to Miss Fleming,” Blue put in,
wagging his head slowly. “My, didn’t I hate to go!”
“I almost thought you didn’t like it,” smiled Doodles.
Blue laughed. “Glad I went! What if I hadn’t!”
“I suppose God could have made some other way,” Doodles pondered. “But
it is great as it is! And I’m glad you told me to keep on!”
Blue smiled reminiscently. “Things have come out mighty good! Say, let’s
go downstairs where we can sit easier! I want to tell you about Miss
Fleming.”
“What about her?”
“Oh, you wait! My, but you can go down all right, can’t you!” admired
Blue, to his brother’s delight.
“There! now we can talk!” The boy settled himself in a big rocker, after
seeing Doodles comfortable in its mate opposite.
“Tell me quick!” begged the little lad, eager for every scrap of home
news.
“Well, you know Mr. Selden that Caruso belonged to? Mrs. Fleming told
mother all about him and Eudora—”
“Oh! was that the one Miss Shook said?”
“I guess so. Now you keep still and let me talk!
“You see, it was this way, she and Mr. Selden were dead in love with
each other, and wouldn’t either of ’em show it a mite. Miss Fleming
thought he didn’t care anything about her when he went off without
saying a word; and all the while he didn’t dare let on how he felt,
because she is so rich and he is poor and has got his way to make. So
that’s what was the matter with her—Mrs. Fleming said she just went all
to pieces. Then when I carried the bird, and wrote him what I did, it
made him think perhaps she did like him. And he wrote to her, and she
wrote to him, and they kept on writing, and they both found out how it
was, and he proposed, and now they’re engaged and going to be married!”
“O—h!” beamed Doodles.
“I do’ know when, but he’s comin’ home next spring. Miss Fleming don’t
care a rap if he is poor, and any of ’em don’t; they say he’ll make
piles o’ money pretty soon, because he plays so beautifully. And they
are all so glad she’s got well, and it’s come out so fine, it seems as
if they couldn’t do enough for us ’specially for you.”
“What have I done?”
Blue laughed. “You sent me out there with Caruso—that’s what!”
“You carried him and wrote the letter anyhow!” declared Doodles. “But,
say, when is he coming home? I do want to see him! Was he real sick, the
reason you took him over to Mr. Gillespie’s?”
“No, only mopish. When I telephoned to him, he said he guessed he missed
you, and I’d better bring him there where he’d have all his birds for
company till you got back. He said to wrap him up and fetch him right
along. I put some newspapers round the cage, and made some little holes
for breathing places, as he told me, and he’s been there ever since.
He’s comin’ in Monday anyway, and he’s goin’ to bring him then.”
“Supper’s ready!” called Mrs. Stickney.
“This doesn’t look much like the old Flatiron kitchen, does it?” exulted
Blue.
Doodles shook his head smilingly, his mouth full of egg salad.
“Bet this came from the Flemings’, didn’t it?” queried Blue.
“I knew it,” he went on, after his mother’s assent. “They’re always
sending down something or other. You ought to have seen the basket that
came the day we moved! About everything in it! I tell you, they’re the
folks for me!”
“Me too!” chimed in Doodles. “But I think there couldn’t have been
anything in that basket better than these muffins,” he added, with a
loving glance across to his mother.
“Nobody can rout her on cooking,” declared Blue.
“What children!” beamed the happy mother, as she went to fetch a fresh
supply of the cakes.
The back door─bell rang, and the boys heard a hearty thank─you.
The door shut, and Blue ran out to the kitchen.
“Ice cream and oranges!” he shouted. “My, what will they bring next!”
The Fleming sisters came for a brief visit in the evening; but they were
soon away, and lights were out early in the bungalow.
Sunday morning it was snowing fast. There was a private telephone
connected with the house on the knoll, and after breakfast Mrs. Fleming
rang to ask if anything were needed. Later Daphne chatted with Blue.
Otherwise there was no word from outside all day; but it was a happy
household, there was enough to talk about and to be glad over to keep
anybody from being lonesome.
The next sunrise promised a rare New Year’s Day,—white underfoot, blue
overhead, and just cold enough for the season. An air of mystery
pervaded the little house on the side drive. Doodles had felt it vaguely
the day before, and it suddenly grew into something more defined when
Blue awoke him with a “Happy New Year, old feller! Got to start early
_this_ morning!”
“To─day is a holiday,” observed the younger lad a little later.
“Bet you it is!” shouted Blue, wagging his head in the way Doodles
knew—it always meant a secret that ached to be let out!
What could it be! He asked no questions, but kept his eyes wide open.
What fun to feel a lovely secret ahead! There were messengers from the
big house all the forenoon, but Doodles could only guess at their
errands. Nothing wonderful happened. Daphne brought down a book for him,
a beautiful book of verses and pictures, and one for Blue about some
gallant knights. But Blue did not stop long to look at books. He cleaned
all the paths about the house, and then surprised his brother by saying
that he was going into town.
“For what?” cried Doodles, curiosity suddenly thwarting his
determination to appear blind to all mysterious doings. But he gained
nothing.
“Oh, a little business, kiddie!” Blue answered in what was meant to be a
careless tone, but which went wide of its aim and only mystified Doodles
to a high degree.
When he returned home, his mother had an immediate errand in the
kitchen, where he at once joined her, leaving the small boy to speculate
on the possible import of the trip.
Afterwards Blue had several telephone messages, which he answered only
by pleased phrases, which meant nothing to the listener.
It was a tantalizing, bewitching forenoon, full of the wildest
anticipations and the joyfulest hopes.
Soon after dinner Mrs. Stickney suggested that Doodles go upstairs and
have a nap; so, although he was not a bit sleepy, he went without a
word, guessing that they wished him out of the way. He had made up his
mind that the Flemings were going to have a party in the evening, to
which they were invited; yet why so much mystery about it? He was no
sooner established on his little bed than he heard doors opening and
shutting downstairs, and the sound of men’s feet and men’s voices. He
was sure, too, that Eudora Fleming was there. All this pushed away his
conjecture about the party. He gave up trying to guess.
After a while there was less bustle below, and Doodles shut his eyes. It
was quite dusky when he opened them. Blue was there.
“Hello, kiddie!”
“Hello!” laughed Doodles. “I went to sleep after all. I thought I
shouldn’t.”
“Good thing! You’ll feel livelier this evening.”
So it was going to be this evening! Then he should know in a little
while! He longed to go downstairs and see what was or had been going on;
but Blue sat as if he expected to stay. So Doodles settled himself
comfortably for a chat.
“What do you s’pose Daphne told me this morning?”
“Give it up! What?”
“She says she’s going to marry you when she is twenty!”
“Crackety!” exploded Blue.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Doodles’s tone was anxious.
“Mind what?”
“Why, that! You’d just as lief marry her, wouldn’t you?”
Blue’s face was bright with fun. “Maybe I would, and maybe I wouldn’t.
It’s too soon to decide.”
“Well, she wants to, because you found her and took her away from those
dreadful folks. She thinks you are the nicest boy that ever was!”
“Perhaps she won’t when she’s twenty.”
“Yes, she will! She’s true─blue, just like you!”
Blue began to whistle. Then his eyes twinkled, and the whistling was cut
short.
“Doodles, I think you’d be a better match for Daphne,—you are nearer her
age.”
“Oh, no!” cried Doodles. “I’d rather marry Polly—Polly Dudley!”
“Cracketywhack! You’ve got ahead o’ me! Picked out a wife already!” Blue
laughed himself almost out of his chair.
Doodles laughed a little in sympathy, yet he said:—
“I don’t see anything very funny about that! If I like Polly and Polly
likes me, why can’t we marry each other when we get old?”
“How do you know she likes you?”
“She said she did.”
Blue went off in another spasm. “Did you ask her?” he gurgled.
“No, she just said so!”
“She’s a good deal older’n you,” Blue objected.
“What difference does that make?”
“I do’ know, but the boys are older than the girls—’most always.”
“I don’t care anything about age,” returned Doodles comfortably, “and I
don’t think Polly will.”
“Come to supper, boys!”
They sprang to their feet. Polly and Daphne were instantly forgotten!
Doodles was eager to see downstairs.
He stopped when he reached the foot of the flight—vines and flowers
seemed everywhere!
“How do you like it, old man?” Blue could not wait.
“Beautiful! It’s just like fairyland—or heaven!” he said softly.
“I knew you would!”
“Who did it?”
“The Flemings! Trimmed up for New Year’s! That’s why we tucked you off
upstairs,” laughed Blue.
“I thought so!” chuckled Doodles. So this was it! What a lovely New
Year’s surprise!
Blue had to show Doodles all through the rooms, and point out the most
elaborate decorations, before he would let him sit down to supper. Then
both boys were too excited and full of talk to eat. It was a plain meal,
just bread and milk and apple sauce; but Doodles ate happily without
question, and he and Blue were soon off again to see the flowers.
“Now we’d better go and fix up a little,” Blue suggested presently.
“Somebody might come for a New Year’s call, you know.”
So up the stairs they climbed, and returned in their Sunday suits. Maybe
the Flemings were to be there, Doodles thought.
“Say,” broke out Blue, “did I tell you that Eudora wants you to sing in
the choir at St. Bartholomew’s?”
The small boy widened his eyes with a surprised “No.”
“Well, that’s the programme! Just as soon as you get a little stronger,
she says. The soprano boy that sings solos is going out of town, and you
can have his place.”
“Oh, I’d love it!” The brown eyes grew luminous. “To sing for God! To
give his messages to the people! I am so glad!”
Blue gazed admiringly at his brother. “I didn’t know as you’d dare—I
believe you wouldn’t be afraid to sing at the Church of the Good
Shepherd itself!”
“Of course not! Why should I?”
Blue laughed. “I do’ know! I should!—There’s an auto! Come on!”
Blue dashed to the front door, Doodles following closely. Who could be
coming in a car except—
Blue had the door wide open. The lights shone out brilliantly. Dorothy
was on the steps, but who—? why, Grandpa Moon was with her! Behind them
was Tillie Shook, and then Giles Gaylord and—it was! it was Granny
O’Donnell!
Doodles let go Grandpa Moon’s hand to be clasped in Granny’s arms.
“Me blissid b’y! I niver thought me old eyes wud see ye on th’ dear
little two feets o’ yees, as sthrong as annybody! Thanks be to th’ good
God!”
Through the talk sounded a motor horn. Another car was coming up the
driveway. It stopped. Blue opened the door. Doodles looked beyond
Granny—there were the Jimmy Georges, and others whom he well knew!
“To think o’ your walkin’!” wondered Mrs. Homan. “Let’s see you do it!
Land! I never ’d ’a’ b’lieved it! When I heard—”
New arrivals cut short the sentence, and Thomas Fitzpatrick and Joseph
Sitnitsky came up to shake hands with Doodles.
Right in the midst of the chatter the small boy spied somebody in the
hall, somebody carrying a covered cage, and Sandy Gillespie and Caruso
were receiving a glad welcome when Blue reached them.
“Th’ wee birdie is a’ right noo,” the old Scotchman smiled in answer to
Doodles’s question. “An’ he’ll sing for ye sune, he’ll be sae fu’ o’ joy
to see his bonnie laddie again.”
The boy’s fear that Caruso would not know him quickly faded, for with a
delighted whirr the mocker flew to his top perch, eager for the
accustomed caress from his master’s cheek. It was a pretty thing to see,
and the others crowded round, everybody talking to everybody else, while
Doodles and his pet, regarding none but each other, exchanged their soft
greetings.
The lad had but just returned from placing the bird in a quiet corner,
when the Fleming car, which had been to the station and had stopped at
The Flatiron to complete its load, deposited its passengers at the
entrance.
“Why—y—ee! Christarchus!” piped the astonished Doodles; and after that
he would scarcely have been surprised if the President had appeared at
the door to wish him a Happy New Year.
It was a very informal party, but merriment and joy were there in full
measure, and Doodles had to walk across the room a great many times to
satisfy some of the still incredulous guests.
“It’s the wonderfullest thing I ever heard of!” declared Mrs. Jimmy
George. “I s’posed—Evangeline, don’t you go into that dinin’─room! Yes,
you may peek!—Don’t it look just beautiful!”
Doodles turned. He had been so engaged with his friends that he had had
no time for anything beside. It was “just beautiful,” as Mrs. George had
said,—the table loaded with dainties, the green garlands, the brilliant
blossoms, the dazzling lights overhead! Surely the house on the knoll
had given of its best for the little bungalow feast.
“I wonder who thought of all this first,” said Doodles.
Blue was passing, and heard.
“Ask her!” he laughed, waving an arm towards the blushing Mrs. Jimmy.
“Pshaw, I didn’t do nothin’!” denied that lady. “I happened to think’t
would be nice if we could, and I asked ’em to come, as soon’s I found
out ’t would be agreeable to your mother—that’s all I did! I was for
havin’ us bring the refreshments; but Miss Flemin’ she said no, she’d
’tend to that, an’ she did—my, I sh’d think she did!
“You see,”—lowering her voice,—“the truth is, a lady (I won’t mention no
names) but she said to me, one day, ‘I s’pose now the Stickneys have got
so much money and live in such a swell house, they won’t have no use for
their old friends.’ And I just up an’ out with, ‘They will too! They
ain’t no such folks as to turn their backs on tried─an’─true neighbors!’
That was what started me t’ thinkin’ o’ this, and I told Jimmy ’t I’d
put it through if only to prove things to her. So here we be, an’ I
guess she’s satisfied all right! I invited every blessed one, and they’d
all been mighty glad to come, but some couldn’t.”
After luncheon, when everybody was in full content, Giles Gaylord called
for silence.
“My dear friends,” he began, “this honor ought to be upon the shoulders
of the one to whom we are indebted for the pleasure of the evening; but
as she wouldn’t take it, and I didn’t succeed in sneaking out of it,
here I am! I think I should have run away during luncheon, as has
sometimes been done in the face of a dreaded speech; but one can’t leave
his friends in the lurch, and we are certainly warm friends—warmer,
perhaps, because we are _Flatiron_ friends. If I am not mistaken, all of
us, with two exceptions, have, at one time or another, dwelt beneath its
hospitable roof. So now, in behalf of The Flatiron, I present to Master
Doodles this new home for Caruso.”
He lifted the cloth which had hidden from sight a large, handsome
mocking─bird cage.
Everybody turned to Doodles, who stood transfixed with astonishment and
delight.
“Speech! speech!” was the call.
The boy looked at his brother with pleading eyes. “You!” he whispered.
Blue smilingly shook his head.
“I am so surprised and happy,” Doodles began, “I don’t know what to say!
But I thank you ever and ever so much, and I know Caruso will. It is
just like you to do it! You have always done such nice things for us.
You can’t imagine what a comfort you have been to me! I guess there are
lots of people that need comforting, or God wouldn’t have told us to do
it. I’ve never done much. Blue and Caruso have had to do mine for me.
But now I can walk, and Caruso has got such a beautiful home he’ll sing
more than ever, and we shall comfort all the folks we can just as long
as we live.”
This was followed by such applause that Doodles wanted to hide his head;
but he only blushed and smiled to everybody.
“Darlin’!” whispered Mrs. Homan, wiping her eyes.—“He’s a blissid little
angil!” breathed Granny O’Donnell.
Mr. Gillespie brought the bird, and deftly put him into his new cage.
With a quick, comprehensive glance, Caruso flirted his wings in joy, and
let go a little carol.
At its close, softly, very softly, the old Scotchman began to whistle
“Auld Lang Syne.”
The bird stood motionless, with cocked head, and then joined in the air,
which almost at once he was carrying on by himself.
The room was breathless to its close, when such a storm of praise broke
forth as would have frightened a shy singer. But not Caruso! He calmly
descended to his new food cup and pounced upon the tidbit which was
always his reward after a successful performance.
Truly Sandy Gillespie had been a faithful teacher in the short time that
the mocker had been with him! It was his New Year’s present to Doodles.
As soon as the clapping ceased, somebody—Blue thought afterwards it was
Leona Montgomery—started the song again, and a score of voices caught it
up with a burst of melody.
“Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.”
=THE END=
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_The Riverside Press_
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THE STREET OF SEVEN STARS
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NEW YORK
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● Transcriber’s Notes:
○ Missing or obscured punctuation was silently corrected.
○ Typographical errors were silently corrected.
○ Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only
when a predominant form was found in this book.
○ Text that was in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).
End of Project Gutenberg's Doodles--The Sunshine Boy, by Emma C. Dowd