_A Safe Proposition_
When Mickey posted his letter, in deep thought he slowly walked home.
That night his eyes closed with a feeling of relief. He was certain
that when Peter and his wife and children talked over the plan he had
suggested they would be anxious to have such a nice girl as Lily in
their home for a week. He even went so far as the vague thought that if
they kept her until fall, they never would be able to give her up, and
possibly she could remain with them until he could learn whether her
back could be cured, and make arrangements suitable for her. In his
heart he felt sure that Mr. Bruce or Miss Leslie would help him take
care of her, but he had strong objections to them. He thought the
country with its clean air, birds, flowers and quiet the best place for
her; if he allowed them to take her, she would be among luxuries which
would make all he could do unappreciated.
"She wasn't born to things like that; what's the use to spoil her with
them?" he argued. "Course they haven't spoiled Miss Leslie, but she
wasn't a poor kid to start on, and she has a father to take care of
her, and Mr. Bruce. Lily has only me and I'm going to manage my family
myself. Pretty soon those nice folks will come, and if she likes them,
maybe I'll let them take her 'til it's cooler."
Mickey had thought they would come soon, but he had not supposed it
would be the following day. He went downtown early, spent some time
drilling his protégé in the paper business, and had the office ready
when Douglas Bruce arrived an hour late. During that hour, Mickey's
call came. He made an appointment to meet Mr. and Mrs. Peter Harding at
Marsh & Jordan's at four o'clock.
"Peter must have wanted to see her so bad he quit plowing to come,"
commented Mickey, as he hung up the receiver. "He couldn't have
finished that field last night! They're just crazy to see Lily, and
when they do, they'll be worse yet; but of course they wouldn't want to
take her from me, 'cause they got three of their own. I guess Peter is
the safest proposition I know. Course he wouldn't ever put a little
flowersy-girl in any old Orphings' Home. Sure he wouldn't! He wouldn't
put his own there, course he wouldn't mine!"
"Mickey, what do you think?" asked Douglas as he entered. "I've moved
to the country!"
Mickey stared. Then came his slow comment: "Gee! The cows an' the
clover gets all of us!"
"I can beat that," said Douglas. "I'm going to live beside a lake where
I can swim every night and morning, and catch big bass, and live on
strawberries from the vines and cream straight from the cow----"
"I thought you'd get to the cow before long."
"And you are invited to go out with me as often as you want to, and you
may arrange to have Lily out too! Won't that be fine?"
Mickey hesitated while his eyes grew speculative, before he answered
with his ever ready: "Sure!"
"Miss Winton made a plan for her father and me," explained Douglas.
"She knew we would lose our vacations this summer, so she took an old
cabin on Atwater, and moved out. We are to go back and forth each
morning and evening. I never was at the lake before, but it's not far
from the club house and it's beautiful. I think most of all I shall
enjoy the swimming and fishing."
"I haven't had experience with water enough to swim in," said Mickey.
"A tub has been my limit. You'll have a fine time all right, and thank
you for asking me. I think Miss Winton is great. Ain't it funny how
many fine folks there are in the world? 'Most every one I meet is too
nice for any use; but I don't know any Swell Dames, my people are just
common folks."
"You wouldn't call Miss Winton a 'Swell Dame,' then?"
"Well I should say nix!" cried Mickey. "You wouldn't catch her motoring
away to a party and leaving her baby to be slapped and shook out of its
breath by a mad nurselady, 'cause she left it herself where the sun
hurt its eyes. She wouldn't put a little girl that couldn't walk in any
Orphings' Home where no telling what might happen to her! She'd fix her
a Precious Child and take her for a ride in her car and be careful with
her."
"Are you quite sure about that Mickey?"
"Surest thing you know," said Mickey emphatically. "Why look her
straight in the eyes, and you can tell. I saw her coming away down the
street, and the minute I got my peepers on her I picked her for a
winner. I guess you did too."
"I certainly did," said Douglas. "But it is most important that I be
perfectly sure, so I should like to have your approval of my choice."
"I guess you're kidding now," ventured Mickey.
"No, I'm in earnest," said Douglas Bruce. "You see Mickey, as I have
said before, your education and mine have been different, but yours is
equally valuable."
"What shall I do now? 'Scuse me, I mean--what do I mean?" asked Mickey.
"To wait until I'm ready for you," suggested Douglas.
"Sure!" conceded Mickey. "It's because I'm used to hopping so lively on
the streets."
"Do you miss the streets?" inquired Douglas.
"Well not so much as I thought I would," said Mickey, "'sides in a way
I'm still on the job, but I guess I'll get Henry's boy so he can go it
all right. He seems to be doing fairly well; so does the old man."
"Have you got him in training too?" asked Douglas.
"Oh it's his mug," explained Mickey impatiently. "S'pose you do own a
grouch, what's the use of displaying it in your show window? Those
things are dangerous. They're contagious. Seeing a fellow on the street
looking like he'd never smile again, makes other folks think of their
woes, so pretty soon everybody gets sorry for themselves. I'd like to
see the whole world happy."
"Mickey, what makes _you_ so happy to-day?"
"I scent somepin' nice in the air," said Mickey. "I hear the rumble of
the joy wagon coming my way."
"You surely look it," declared Douglas. "It's a mighty fine thing to be
happy. I am especially thinking that, because it looks like this last
batch you brought me has a bad dose in it for a man I know. He won't be
happy when he sees his name in letters an inch high on the front page
of the _Herald_."
"No, he won't," agreed Mickey, his face dulling. "That _comes in my
line_. I've seen men forced to take it right on the cars. Open a paper,
slide down, turn white, shiver, then take a brace and try to sit up and
look like they didn't care, when you could see it was all up with them.
Gee, it's tough! I wish we were in other business."
"But what about the men who work hard for their money, not to mince
matters, that these men you are pitying steal?" asked Douglas.
"Yes, I know," said Mickey. "But there's a big bunch of taxpayers, so
it doesn't hit any _one_ so hard. It's tough on them, but honest, Mr.
Bruce, it ain't as tough to lose your coin as it is to lose your glad
face. You can earn more money or slide along without so much; but once
you get the slick, shamed look on your show window, you can't ever wash
it off. Since your face is what your friends know you by, it's an awful
pity to spoil it."
"That's so too, Mickey," laughed Bruce, "but keep this clearly in your
mind. _I'm not spoiling any one's face_. If any man loses his right to
look his neighbour frankly in the eye, from the job we're on, it is
_his_ fault, not _ours_. If men have lived straight we can't find
defalcations in their books, can we?"
"Nope," agreed Mickey. "Just the same I wish we were plowing corn,
'stead of looking for them. That plowing job is awful nice. I watched a
man the other day, the grandest big bunch of bone and muscle, driving a
team it took a gladiator to handle. First time I ever saw it done at
close range and it got me. He looked like a man you'd want to tie to
and stick 'til the war is over. If he ever has a case he is going to
bring it to you. But where he'll get a case out there ten miles from
anybody, with the bluest sky you ever saw over his head, and black
fields under his feet, I can't see. Yes, I wish we were plowing for
corn 'stead of trouble."
"You little dunce," laughed Douglas. "We'd make a fortune plowing corn."
"What's the difference how much you make if something black keeps
ki-yi-ing at your heels 'bout how you make it?" asked Mickey.
"There's a good strong kick in my heels, and the 'ki-yi-ing' is for the
feet of the man I'm after."
"Yes, I know," said Mickey, "but 'fore we get through with this I just
got a hunch that you'll wish we had been plowing corn, too."
"What makes you so sure, Mickey?" said Douglas.
"Oh things I hear men say when I get the books keep me thinking,"
replied Mickey.
"What things?" queried Douglas.
"Oh about who's going to get the axe next!" said Mickey.
"But what of that?" asked Douglas.
"Why it might be somebody you know!" he cried. "When you find these
wrong entries you can't tell who made them."
"I know that the man who made them deserves what he gets," said Douglas.
"Yes, I guess he does," agreed Mickey. "Well go on! But when I grow up
I'm going to plow corn."
"What about the poetry?" queried Douglas.
"They go together fine," explained Mickey. "When the book is finished,
I'd like clover on the cover better than the cow; but if Lily wants the
live stock it goes!"
"Of course," assented Douglas. "But when she sees a real cow she may
change her mind."
"Right in style! Ladies do it often," conceded Mickey. "I've seen them
so changeful they couldn't tell when they called a taxi where they
wanted to be taken." "Mickey, your observations on human nature would
make a better book than your poetry."
"Oh I don't know," said Mickey. "You see I ain't really got _at_ the
poetry job yet. I have to be educated a lot to do it right. What I do
now I wouldn't show to anybody else, it's just fooling for Lily. But I
got an address that gives me a look-in on the paper business if I ever
want it. I ain't got at the poetry yet, but I been on the human-nature
job from the start. When you go cold and hungry if you don't know human
nature--why you _know_ it, that's all!"
"You surely do," said Douglas. "Now let's hustle this forenoon, and
then you may have the remainder of the day. I am going fishing."
"Thank you," said Mickey, "I hope you get a bass as long as your arm,
and I hope the man you are chasing breaks his neck before you get him."
Mickey grinned at Douglas' laugh, and went racing about his work, then
he helped on his paper route until four, when he hurried to his meeting
with Nancy and Peter.
"When everybody is so nice if you give them any show at all, I can't
understand where the grouchers get their grouch," muttered Mickey, as
he hopped from one toe to the other and tried to select the car at the
curb which would be Peter's.
"Hey you!" presently called a voice from one of them. Mickey sent a
keen glance over a boy who had come up and entered the car.
"Straw you!" retorted Mickey, landing on the curb in a flying leap.
"Is your name Mickey?" inquired the boy.
"Yep. Is your father's name Peter?" asked Mickey.
"Yep. And mine is Peter too. So to avoid two Peters I am Junior. Come
on in 'til the folks come."
Formalities were over. Mickey laughed as he entered the car and
straightway began an investigation of its machinery. Now any boy is
proud to teach another something he wants to know and does not, so by
the time the car was thoroughly explained any listener would have
thought them acquaintances from birth.
"Hurry!" cried Junior when his parents came. "I want to get home with
Mickey. I want him to show me----"
"Don't you hurry your folks, Junior," said Mickey, "I'll show you all
right!"
"Well it's about time I was seeing something."
"Sure it is," agreed Mickey. "Come on with me here, and I'll show you
what real boys are!"
"Say father, I'm coming you know," cried Junior. "I'm tired poking in
the country. Just look what being in the city has made of Mickey."
"Yes, just look!" cried Mickey, waving both hands and bracing on feet
wide apart. "Do look! Your age or more, and about _half_ your beefsteak
and bone."
"But you got muscle. I bet I couldn't throw you!"
"I bet you couldn't either," retorted Mickey, "'cause I survived
Multiopolis by being Johnny _not_ on the spot! I've dodged for my life
and my living since I can remember. I'm champeen on that. But you come
on with me, and I'll get you a job and let you try yourself."
"I'm coming," said Junior. Then remembering he was not independent he
turned to his mother. "Can't I take a job and work here?"
Mrs. Harding braced herself and succumbed to habit. "That will be as
your father says."
Junior turned toward his father, doubt in his eye, to receive a shock.
There was not a trace of surprise or disapproval on the face of Peter.
"Now maybe that would be the best way in the world for you to help me
out," he said. "You see me through planting and harvest and then I'll
arrange to spare you, and you can see how you like it till fall. But
you are too young to give up school and I don't agree to interrupting
your education."
Mrs. Harding entered the car. "Now Mickey," she said as she distributed
parcels, "you sit up there with Peter and show him the way, and we will
go see if we want to undertake the care of your little girl for a week."
"Drop the anchor, furl the sail, right here," directed Mickey when they
reached Sunrise Alley. "You know I told you dearest lady, about how
scared my little girl is, having seen so few folks and not expecting
you; so I'll have to ask you to wait a few minutes 'til I go up and get
her used to your being here and then I'll have to sort of work her up
to you one at a time. I 'spect you can't hardly believe that there's
anything in all the world so small, and so white, that's lived to have
the brains she has, and yet hasn't seen the streets of this city but
for a short ride on a street-car twice in her life, and hasn't talked
to half a dozen people. She may take you for a bear, Peter; you will be
quiet and easy, won't you?"
"Why Mickey," said Peter, "why of course, son!"
Mickey bounded up the stairs and swung wide his door. Again the awful
heat hit him in the face. He swallowed a mouthful, hastily shutting the
door. "It's hard on Lily," was his mental comment, "but I guess I'll
just _save_ that for Mr. and Mrs. Peter. I think a few gulps of it will
do them good; it will show them better than talking why, once she's
_out_ of it, she shouldn't come back 'til cold weather at least, if at
all. Yes I guess!"
"Most baked honey?" he asked, taking her hot hands.
"Mickey, 'tain't near six," she panted.
"No it's two hours early," said Mickey. "But you know Flowersy-girl,
I'm going to take _care_ of you. It's getting too hot for you. Don't
you remember what I told you last night?"
"'Bout laying on the grass an' the clover flowers?"
"Exactly yes!" said Mickey. "'Fore we melt let's roll up in this sheet
and go, Lily! What do you say?"
"Has--has the red-berry folks come?" she cried.
"They're downstairs, Lily. They're waiting."
Peaches began climbing into his arms.
"Mickey, Mickey-lovest, hold me tight," she panted. "Mickey, I'm scairt
just God-damned!"
"Wope! Wope lady! None of that!" cried Mickey aghast. "The place where
you're going there's a _nice little girl_ that never said such a word
in all her life, and if she did her mammy would wash the badness out of
her mouth with soap, just like I'll have to wash out yours, if you
don't watch. You can't go in the big car, being held tight by me, else
you promise cross your heart never, not never to say that again."
"Mickey, will soapin' take it out?" wailed Peaches.
"Well my mammy took it out of _me_ that way!"
"Mickey get the soap, an' wash, an' scour it all out now, so's I can't
ever. Mickey, quick before the nice lady comes that has flower fields,
an' red berries, an' honey 'lasses. Mickey, hurry!"
"Oh you fool little sweet kid," he half laughed, half sobbed. "You fool
little precious child-kid--I can't! There's a better way. I'll just put
on a kiss so tight that no bad swearin's will ever pop out past it.
There, like that! Now you won't ever say one 'fore the nice little
girl, and when I want you not to so bad, will you?"
"Not never Mickey! Not never, never, never!"
"The folks can't wait any longer," said Mickey. "Here quick, I'll wash
your face and comb you, and get a clean nightie on you, and your
sweetest ribbon."
"Then it's pink," declared Peaches, "an' Mickey, make me a pretty girl,
so's the nice lady will like me to drink her milk."
"Greedy!" said Mickey. "How can I make you pretty when the Lord didn't!"
"Ain't I pretty any at all?" queried Peaches.
"Mebby you would be if you'd fatten up a little," said Mickey
judicially. "Can't anybody be pretty that's got bones sticking out all
over them."
"Mickey, is the girl where we are going pretty?"
"I don't know," said Mickey. "I haven't seen her. She's a fine little
girl, for she's at home taking care of her baby brother so's that her
mammy can come and see if you are _nice enough_ to go to her house and
not _spoil_ her children. See?"
Peaches nodded comprehendingly.
"Mickey, I won't again!" she insisted. "I said not never, never, never.
Didn't you _hear_ me?"
"Yes I heard you," said Mickey, applying the washcloth, slipping on a
fresh nightdress, brushing curls, and tying the ribbon with fingers
shaking with excitement and haste. "Yes I heard you, but that stuff
seems to come awful easy, Miss. You got to be careful no end. Now, I'm
going to bring them. You just smile at them, and when they ask you,
tell them the right answer _nice_. Will you honey? Will you _sure?_"
"Surest thing you know," quoted Peaches promptly.
"Aw-w-w-ah!" groaned Mickey. "That ain't right! Miss Leslie wouldn't
ever said that! You got that from me, too! I guess I better soap out my
mouth 'fore I begin on you. 'Yes ma'am,' is the answer. Now you
remember! I'll just bring in the lady first."
"I want to see Peter first!" announced Peaches.
"Well if I ever!" cried Mickey. "Peter is a great big man, 'bout twice
as big as Mr. Bruce. You don't either! You want to see the nice lady
first, 'cause it's up to _her_ to say if she'll take care of you. She
may get mad and not let you go at all, if you ask to see Peter _first_.
You want to see the nice lady first, don't you Lily?"
"Yes, if I got to, to see the cow. But I don't!" said Lily. "I want to
see Peter. I like Peter the _best_."
"Now you look here Miss Chicken, don't you start a tantrum!" cried
Mickey. "If you don't see this nice lady first and be pretty to her,
I'll just go down and tell them you _like_ lying here roasting, and
they can go back to their flower-fields and berries. See?"
Peaches drew a deep breath but her eyes were wilful. A wave of heat
seemed to envelop them.
"Sweat it out right now!" ordered Mickey. "When people do things for
you 'cause they are sorry for you, it's up to you to be polite, to pay
back with manners at least. See?"
Peaches' smile was irresistible: "Mickey, I feel so p'lite! I'll see
the nice lady first."
"Now there's a real, sure-enough lady!"
Mickey stooped to kiss Peaches again, take a last look at the hair
ribbon, and straighten the sheet, then he ran; but he closed in the
heat quickly as he slipped through the doorway. A few seconds later
with the Harding family at his heels he again approached it. There he
made his second speech. He addressed it to Peter and Junior.
"'Cause she's so little and so scared, I guess the nice lady better go
in first, and make up with her. Then one at a time you can come, so so
many strangers won't upset her."
Peter assented heartily, but with a suffocating gesture removed his
coat, so Junior followed his example. Mickey cut short something about
"extreme heat" on the lips of Mrs. Harding by indicating the door, and
opening it. He quickly closed it after her, advancing to Peaches.
"Lily, this is the nice lady I was telling you of who has got the bird
singing and the flower-fields----" he began. Peaches drew back, her
eyes wide with wonder and excitement, but her mind followed Mickey's
lead, for she shocked his sense of propriety by adding: "and the good
red berries."
But Mrs. Harding came from an environment where to have "good red
berries," spicy smoked ham, fat chickens and golden loaves constituted
a first test of efficiency. To have her red berries appreciated did not
offend her. If Peaches had said "the sweetest, biggest red berries in
Noble Country," the woman would have been delighted, because that was
her private opinion, but she was not so certain that corroboration was
unpleasant. She advanced, gazing at the child unconsciously gasping the
stifling air. She took one hurried glance at the room in its scrupulous
bareness, with waves of heat pouring in the open window, and bent over
Peaches.
"Won't you come out of this awful heat quickly, and let us carry you
away to a cool, shady place? Dear little girl, don't you want to come?"
she questioned.
"Is Mickey coming too?" asked Peaches.
"Of course Mickey is coming too!" said the lady.
"Will he hold me?"
"He will if you want him to," said Mrs. Harding, "but Peter is so much
bigger, it wouldn't tire him a mite."
Mickey shifted on his feet and gazed at Peaches; as her eyes sought
his, the message he telegraphed her was so plain that she caught it
right.
"Mickey is just awful strong," she said. "I'll go if he'll hold me. But
I want to _see_ Peter! I _like_ Peter!"
"Why you darling!" cried the nice lady.
"And I like Junior, that Mickey told me about, and your nice little
girl that I mustn't ever say no sw----"
Mickey promptly applied the flat of his hand to the lips of the
astonished child.
"And you like the little girl and the fat toddly baby----" he prompted.
"Yes," agreed Peaches enthusiastically, twisting away her head, "and I
like the milk and the meat--gee, I like the _meat_, only Mickey
wouldn't give me but a tiny speck 'til he asked the Sunshine Nurse
Lady."
"You blessed child!" cried Nancy Harding. "Call Peter quickly!"
Mickey opened the door and signalled Peter and Junior.
"She likes you. She asked for you. You can both come at once," he
announced, holding the door at a narrow crack until they reached it,
both red faced, dripping, and fanning with their hats. Peter gasped for
air.
"My God! Has any living child been cooped in this all day?" he roared.
"Get her out! Get her out quick! Get her out first and talk afterward.
This will give her scarlet fever!"
A shrill shout came from behind the intervening lady who arose and
stepped back as Peaches raised to her elbow, and stretched a shaking
hand toward Peter.
"Gee, Peter! You get your mouth soaped out first!" she cried. "Gee,
Peter! I _like_ you, Peter!"
Peter bent over her and then stooping to her level he explored her with
astonished eyes, as he cried: "Why child, you ain't big enough for an
exclamation point!" Peaches didn't know what an exclamation point was,
but Mickey did. His laugh brought him again into her thought.
"Mickey, let's beat it! Take me quick!" she panted. "Take me first and
talk afterward. Mickey, we just love these nice people, let's go drink
their milk, and eat their red berries."
"Well Miss Chicken!" said Mickey turning a dull red.
The Harding family were laughing.
"All right, everybody move," said Peter. "What do you want to take with
you Mickey?"
"That basket there," he said. "And that box, you take that Junior, and
you take the Precious Child, and the slate and the books dearest
lady--and I'll take my family; but I ain't so sure about this, lady.
She's sweaty now, and riding is the coolingest thing you can do. We
mustn't make her sick. She must be well wrapped."
"Why she couldn't take cold to-day----" began Peter.
"You and Junior shoulder your loads and go right down to the car," said
Mrs. Harding. "Mickey and I will manage this. He is exactly right about
it. To be taken from such heat to the conditions of motoring might----"
"Sure!" interposed Mickey, dreading the next word for the memories it
would awaken in the child's heart. "Sure! You two go ahead! We'll come
in no time!"
"But I'm not going to lug a basket and have a little chap carrying a
child. You take this and I'll take the baby!"
Mickey's wireless went into instant action so Peaches promptly rebelled.
"I ain't no baby!" she said. "Miss Leslie Moonshine Lady sent me her
hair ribbons and I 'spect she's been crying for them back every day;
and my name what granny named me is Peaches, so there!"
"Corrected! Beg pardon!" said Peter. "Miss Peaches, may I have the
honour of carrying you to the car?"
"Nope," said Peaches with finality. "Nobody, not nobody whatever, not
the biggest, millyingairest nobody alive can't ever carry me, nelse
Mickey says they can, and he is away off on the cars. I like you Peter!
I just like you heaps; but I'm Mickey's, so I got to do what he says
'cause he makes me, jes like he ort, and nobody can't ever tend me like
Mickey."
"So that's the ticket!" mused Peter.
"Yes, that's the ticket," repeated Peaches. "I ain't heavy. Mickey
carried me up, down is easier."
"Sure!" said Mickey. "_I take my own family_. You take yours. We'll be
there in a minute."
Peter and Junior disappeared with thankfulness and speed. Mrs. Harding
and Mickey wrapped Peaches in the sheet and took along a comfort for
shelter from the air stirred by motion. Steadying his arm, which he
wished she would not, they descended. Did she think he wanted Peaches
to suppose he couldn't carry her? He ran down the last flight to show
her, frightening her into protest, and had the reward of a giggle
against his neck and the tightening of small arms clinging to him. He
settled in the car and wrapped Lily in the comfort until she had only a
small peep of daylight.
Mickey knew from Peaches' laboured breathing and the grip of her hands
how agitated she was; but as the car glided smoothly along, driven
skilfully by mentality, guided by the controlling thought of a tiny
lame back, she became easier and clutched less frantically. He kept the
comfort over her head. She had enough to make the change, to see so
many strangers all at once, without being excited by unfamiliar things
that would bewilder and positively frighten her.
Mickey stoutly clung to a load that soon grew noticeably heavy; while
over and over he repeated in his heart with fortifying intent: "She is
my family, I'll take care of her. I'll let them keep her a while
because it is too hot for her there, but they shan't _boss_ her, and
they got to know it first off, and they shan't take her from me, and
they got to understand it."
Right at that point Mickey's grip tightened until the child in his arms
shivered with delight of being so enfolded in her old and only
security. She turned her head to work her face level with the comfort
and whisper in glee: "Mickey, we are going just stylish like
millyingaire folks, ain't we?"
"You just bet we are!" he whispered back.
"Mickey, you wouldn't let them 'get' me, would you?"
"Not on your life!" said Mickey, gripping her closer.
"And Peter wouldn't let them 'get' me?"
"No, Peter would just wipe them clear off the slate if they tried to
get you," comforted Mickey. "We're in the country now Lily. Nobody will
even think of you away out here."
"Mickey, I want to see the country!" said Peaches.
"No Miss! I'm scared now," replied Mickey. "It was awful hot there and
it's lots cooler here, even slow and careful as Peter is driving. If
you get all excitement, and rearing around, and take a chill, and your
back gets worse, just when we have such a grand good chance to make it
better--you duck and lay low, and if you're good, and going out doesn't
make you sick, after supper when you rest up, maybe I'll let you have a
little peepy yellow chicken in your hand to hold a minute, and maybe
I'll let you see a cow. You'd give a good deal to see the cow that's
going on your book, wouldn't you?"
Peaches snuggled down in pure content and proved her femininity as she
did every day. "Yes. But when I see them, maybe I'll like a chicken
better, and put it on."
"All right with me," agreed Mickey. "You just hold still so this
doesn't make you sick, and to-morrow you can see things when you are
all nice and rested."
"Mickey," she whispered.
Mickey bent and what he heard buried his face against Peaches' a second
and when lifted it radiated a shining glory-light, for she had
whispered: "Mickey, I'm going to always mind you and love you best of
anybody."
Because she had expected the trip to result in the bringing home of the
child, Mrs. Harding had made ready a low folding davenport in her
first-floor bedroom, beside a window where grass, birds and trees were
almost in touch, and where it would be convenient to watch and care for
her visitor. There in the light, pretty room, Mickey gently laid
Peaches down and said: "Now if you'll just give me time to get her
rested and settled a little, you can see her a peep; but there ain't
going to be _much_ seeing or talking to-night. If she has such a lot
she ain't used to and gets sick, it will be a bad thing for her, and
all of us, so we better just go slow and easy."
"Right you are, young man," said Peter. "Come out of here you kids!
Come to the back yard and play quietly. When Little White Butterfly
gets rested and fed, we'll come one at a time and kiss her hand, and
wish her pleasant dreams with us, and then we'll every one of us get
down on our knees and ask God to help us take such good care of her
that she will get well at our house."
Mickey suddenly turned his back on them and tried to swallow the lump
in his throat. Then he arranged his family so it was not in a draft,
sponged and fed it, and failed in the remainder of his promise, because
it went to sleep with the last bite and lay in deep exhaustion. So
Mickey smoothed the sheet, slipped off the ribbon, brushed back the
curls, shaded the light, marshalled them in on tiptoe, and with anxious
heart studied their compassionate faces.
Then he telephoned Douglas Bruce to ask permission to be away from the
office the following day, and ventured as far from the house as he felt
he dared with Junior; but so anxious was he that he kept in sight of
the window. And so manly and tender was his scrupulous care, so tiny
and delicate his small charge as she lay waxen, lightly breathing to
show she really lived, that in the hearts of the Harding family grew a
deep respect for Mickey, and such was their trust in him, that when he
folded his comfort and stretched it on the floor beside the child, not
even to each other did they think of uttering an objection. So Peaches
spent her first night in the country breathing clover air, watched
constantly by her staunch protector, and carried to the foot of the
Throne on the lips of one entire family; for even Bobbie was told to
add to his prayer: "God bless the little sick girl, and make her well
at our house."