As the singer passed down the stairs curious eyes peered out at him; but he did not know it.  His heart was full of Miss Lily’s grief, although overspreading it was the beautiful thought that had come to him so suddenly a moment ago.

CHAPTER VI

“Better than the poorhouse”

Polly was on the veranda when Doodles came.

“Why, Doodles Stickney!  I was just thinking of you!  How did you know I wanted to see you this morning?”

“I didn’t,” he laughed; “but I wanted to see you’”

“I’m so glad—­oh, I forgot!  I’m due at the dentist’s at ten o’clock!  Maybe I can get off.”

“No, no!  I couldn’t stay till that time anyway.  I came down on business—­”

“Dear me!” laughed Polly, “how grand we are this morning!”

“I don’t know whether it is ‘grand’ or not—­it depends a good deal on the president of June Holiday Home.  I’ll tell you all about it,” dropping into a chair beside Polly.

He related the incidents of the day before, of Miss Lily’s meeting him at the church door, of his singing to her in the afternoon, and finally of her distress at going to the poorhouse.

“And I happened to think if she could only come to the June Holiday Home—­”

“Lovely!” cried Polly.  “I don’t see why she can’t!”

“Nor I, but somebody may.  I thought I’d see you first and maybe you’d give me a little note of introduction—­you know Mr. Randolph so well, and I never spoke to him.”

“Certainly I will!  I’ll go right and do it now!  Chris will want to see you—­I’ll send him out.”

The note that Doodles carried away with him was in Polly’s best style.

Dear Mr. Randolph:—­ This is to introduce my friend Doodles Stickney, or to be perfectly proper, Julius Stickney.  He will tell you about Miss Lily, and I do hope you will make a place for her at the Home.  I have never seen her, but I know she is nice, or Doodles wouldn’t like her or take so much trouble to get her in.  I feel awfully sorry for her.  It must be dreadful to have your eyes give out so you have to go to the poorhouse.

Miss Sniffen made a terrible fuss because you stayed at the picnic with us—­or because we stayed with you.  Anyway, she scolded Miss Nita like everything.  I’m afraid we can’t ever have a picnic again.  She began on me when I went to report our arrival—­she happened to be at the desk.  You know you have to report as soon as you get in, and I said I’d do it for the crowd.  Miss Nita couldn’t because her ankle ached so.  It turned black and blue—­just awful!  She wouldn’t say a word to anybody, and father sent some liniment by me.  The first smelt so strong Miss Nita didn’t dare use it for fear they’d suspect, so father sent her another kind.  He said it wasn’t quite so good as the smelly sort, but her ankle is a whole