lad of his choice.

He sat eating slowly, wishing he knew at what time he would be most
likely to meet Mr. Randolph, when he stared at a man coming toward
him--it was the president of the Paper Company! The boy drew in a
delighted breath--what great good luck!

Mr. Randolph sat down at a little table not far away. He looked
tired, the lad thought, and he decided to wait until the close of
the meal, if he could manage to make his own small supply of milk
last long enough.

"Nothing more, thank you," Doodles told the maid who came to ask.
"This milk is very nice," he added, which brought out an answering
smile.

At last the president had reached his fruit.

The boy's last crumb had vanished long ago, and he thought he might
venture across to the other table.

"May I speak with you a moment, sir?" he asked softly, taking the
letter from his pocket.

"Certainly." The man bowed with his accustomed courtesy.

"Polly Dudley gave me this for you."

At mention of the name a pleasant light over-spread the grave face.

The lad watched him as he read. The light deepened, then the brows
drew together in a scowl. Doodles wondered what Polly had written.

"This lady is a friend of yours, I take it."

The keen gray eyes looked straight at the boy.

"Yes, sir," Doodles smiled, "though a very new one. I never saw
her till yesterday."

The eyes bent upon him widened a little.

The lad told his story as simply as possible, touching lightly upon
his own part in it. "And so," he ended artlessly, his appealing
brown eyes looking straight into the steady gray ones, "I thought,
even if there were rules and patches and things she didn't like, it
would be better than the poorhouse."

A little amused smile replaced the hint of surprise on the man's
face.

"Where do you sing?" he asked abruptly.

"At St. Bartholomew's Church, Foxford."

"Did you come down expressly to see me about this?"

"Yes, sir," answered Doodles.

"How did you know I was here?"

"I didn't." A smile overspread the small face. "I waited at your
office until"--he hesitated an instant--"I thought I would find you
after I had had a lunch."

"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