“I don’t see what makes me cry so!” she broke out, with a great effort fighting back the tears.  “I’m all upset anyway.  It is so lovely having you sing—­right here!  You don’t know!  I’m afraid I shan’t ever want you to stop.”  She laughed quiveringly.

“More now?” he asked.

“If you aren’t tired,” she hesitated.

“Never!”

He sang again.

In the doorways upstairs and down people were listening.  The little house on North Charles Street had never heard such music within its walls.  As the song ceased, applause came,—­uncertainly at first, then louder and steady.

The two in the back room looked at each other and smiled.

“I guess they like it as well as I do,” Miss Lily said.

In response Doodles sang “Only an armor-bearer,” still one of his favorites, and at its close the approval of those outside was prompt and long.

Many other songs followed; apparently the audience grew.

“They’ll tire you out,” the little lady fretted.

The boy shook his head decidedly, beginning for the second time, “And God shall wipe away all tears.”

“Oh, it is like heaven itself!” Miss Lily breathed.  Then she sighed softly.  “What if I had missed it!”

“I think I shall have to go now,” at last Doodles said; “but I will come and sing for you again any time, if you like,—­any time when you are here.”  He rose and picked up his cap.

“Oh, my dear boy, I’m not ever coming back!  I’m”—­she began to sob, and Doodles could scarcely make out the words—­“I’m going—­to the—­poorhouse!” She broke down, and her slight shoulders shook pitifully.

The boy stood as if stunned.  Then he stepped near.  “Don’t cry!” he said softly, “don’t cry!”

“Oh—­I can’t help it!” she mourned.  “I’ve kept up—­I thought maybe I shouldn’t have to go; but my eyes have given out, and I can’t earn anything only by sewing—­and I can’t sew now!  To think of me in the poorhouse!”

“I’ll come and sing for you there!” cried the boy impulsively.

“Oh! you wouldn’t—­would you?” She clutched at the only straw of hope.

“Of course, I will!  I’d be glad to!”

“You’re awfully good!” She wiped her eyes.

“I didn’t mean to entertain you with tears,” she smiled.  “Seems as if I might stop, but I can’t.”  Her eyes were wet again.

A sudden light illumined the lad’s face.  He opened his lips, then shut them.

“How soon do you expect to go?” he asked.

“Some time the last of the week, the man thought.”  She swallowed hard.  “He said he’d give me time to pick up my things—­he was real good.”

“I’ll see you again before the last of the week,” promised Doodles, putting out his hand.

She clasped it in both of hers.

“You are just a dear—­that’s what you are!” she said tremulously.  “And you don’t know how I thank you!  I can’t tell you what it has been to me!”