"Get hungry?"

"Oh, no, sir!"

Mr. Randolph eyed him questioningly.

"The young man thought I'd waited long enough," was the gentle explanation.

"So he told you to go!"

"I guess he got tired of seeing me there," smiled Doodles.

"Did you wait long?"

"'Most two hours."

"Tall, light-haired fellow, was it?"

The boy a.s.sented.

The president mused a moment and then resumed:--

"In any case your friend will have to make an application. I think I will let her take a blank. Have her fill it out, and you can send it down to me. I will attend to the rest."

Doodles rose from his chair, feeling that it was time to go, yet he could not forbear one question.

"Do you think she can come to the Home?" His tone betrayed his solicitude.

"I will do the best I can for her, Master Stickney." Mr. Randolph had also risen, and he smiled down into the upturned face. "It will have to be referred to the Committee on Applications, but I will see that it is put through as quickly as possible."

Doodles decided to see Miss Lily before going home, so it was still early afternoon when he entered the little house on North Charles Street.

"Why, you dear boy!" The little lady had him in her arms. "How good of you to come! I was thinking this morning, what if I shouldn't ever hear you sing again--and now here you are!"

"I told you I'd come," laughed Doodles.

"Yes," smiled Miss Lily; "but people forget. I guess you aren't the forgetting kind."

"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," a.s.serted 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."

"It says first, 'Your name in full.'" Doodles looked up inquiringly.

"Faith Lily." repeated its owner mechanically. Then she started across the room. "I'll get you a pen and ink," she said.

Doodles wrote with careful hand. "That's a pretty name," he commented.

"I always liked it," she smiled. "But I'm afraid my faith has been going back on me lately. I did have a good deal. I thought the Lord wouldn't let me go to the poorhouse, then it seemed as if He was going to. Only a little while ago I thought He must have forgotten me--and now this!" Her dim eyes grew big with wonder and thankfulness. "Even if I can't go, I shall be glad you tried to get me in; it will tell me I have one friend."

"The next is, 'Time and place of birth.'"

"I was born August 3, 1847, in Cloverfield, Ma.s.sachusetts."

"'Name of father,'" read Doodles.

"Jonathan Seymour Lily."

There were many questions, and the boy was a slow writer. It took no little time to place all the answers. But the end of the list was finally reached without blot or smudge. Doodles surveyed his work with gratification.

"I guess I haven't made any mistake," he said, reading it over.

"Now if you can just put your name there, it will be done."

Her hand trembled and the letters were wavering, but when Doodles declared it was "splendidly written," she smiled her relief.

Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday went by, and Doodles heard nothing from Mr. Randolph. He began to be afraid that the committee had decided against his friend, and although his mother told him that such procedures always take considerable time, he grew more nervous with every mail-coming. When Sat.u.r.day morning brought him no word, he decided to go over to Miss Lily's.

"I don't know that she could read the letter if she had one," he said in dismay. "Why didn't I think of that before!"

His first glimpse of the little woman corroborated his worst fears.

Her eyes were swollen with weeping, and her face was haggard and despairing.

"Can't you go?" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.

"I haven't heard a word!" she answered mournfully. "I didn't know but you had."

"No, I haven't. That's why I came over."

She shut the door and made him sit down.

"I guess I'll have to go to the poorhouse after all," she began in a hushed voice, as if fearful of being overheard.

"Oh, I wouldn't give up! Mr. Randolph said it would take time."