Presently he returned.  “You may sing what you sang downstairs.”  He went back, leaving the door ajar.

Again Doodles sang.  At the end he waited, wondering if he were to keep on.

A white-clad young woman came out of the room, smiling to him under her pretty white cap.

“Mr. Randolph would like to have you sing some more,” she said.

“The Lord is my Shepherd,” “Come unto Me,” “I will lift up mine eyes,” “The Lord bless thee and keep thee,”—­these and others Doodles sang, while not a sound came from the room beyond.

Then the young woman appeared again.

“Mr. Randolph says he wishes you would sing ‘Old Folks at Home,’” she told him.

At the close of the song the nurse came to the door and beckoned him in.

The president of the Paper Company put out a feeble hand.

“Thank you, Doodles!” he smiled.  “I suppose you came all the way from Foxford just to sing for me!”

“Oh, that isn’t anything!” said the boy lightly.  “I am glad to do it, Mr. Randolph.  I do hope you will get better!”

“I am better now!  You have done me good, Doodles!”

“I’m so glad!  May I come again?” eagerly.

“I should be mighty glad if you could!  I will send my car for you any day.”

“Thank you!” The lad’s face was radiant.  “To-morrow?” He glanced at Dr. Temple.

The Doctor gave him a smiling nod.

“This same time?”

“Better than the afternoon,” assented the physician.

Doodles was downstairs when the nurse came out to speak to him.

“Mr. Randolph says to wait and he will have his man take you home.”

So Doodles rode to Foxford in Mr. Randolph’s sumptuous roadster, to the astonishment of Blue whom he met not far from home.

CHAPTER XXXI

SHUT OUT

Miss Sterling was not in her room.  Polly had knocked and knocked.  Finally she turned away and went slowly downstairs.

“Is Miss Nita out?” she asked of Miss Sniffen in the lower hall.

“I don’t know,” was the answer.  She did not offer to look at the day-book on the desk.

Miss Lily came by, on her way upstairs, and said good-morning as she passed.

Polly had reached the door, when a little cry arrested her.  She turned to see Miss Lily half kneeling on the stairs, clutching the rail.

“Oh! are you hurt?” Polly ran up to her.

“Not much, I guess,” was the tremulous answer.  “I can’t see, and the stairs are so wide!  I fall every day or so!”

Polly helped her up.  “I’d go close to the balustrade, if I were you.”

“Oh, no!  I mustn’t!” Miss Lily whispered, glancing down into the hall.

“She’s gone,” said Polly softly.  “Come right up here!  Afraid of scratching?  ’T won’t do any harm—­with your soft slippers.”