Michael O'Halloran (Children's Adventure Novel). Stratton-Porter Gene

which case you wouldn't go," said Mickey. "Dearest lady, it isn't business to pay for undone work."

      "And it isn't business to pay your employer's fare to get to your job either," she retorted.

      "No, that beats business a mile," said Mickey. "That's an investment. You invest ten cents and an hour's time on a gamble. Now look what you get, lady. A nice restful ride on the cars. Your ten cents back, a whole, big, shining, round, lady-liberty bird, if you trust in God, as the coin says the bird does, and more'n that, dearest lady, you go to bed feeling your pinfeathers sprouting, 'cause you've done a kind deed to a poor crippled orphing."

      "If I thought you really had the money—" she said.

      "Honest, lady, I got the money," said Mickey, "and 'sides, I got a surprise party for you. When you get back you may go to that room and take every scrap that's in it. Now come on; you're going to be enough of a sporting lady to try a chance like that, ain't you? May be a gold mine up there, for all I know. Put something soft in the bottom of the basket while I fetch the kid."

      Mickey ran up the stairs.

      "Now Peaches," he said, "I guess I got it fixed. I'm going to carry you down; a nice lady is going to put you in a big basket, then we'll take you to the cars and so get you to my house; but you got to promise, 'cross your heart, you won't squeal, nor say a word, 'cause the police will 'get' you sure, if you do. They'll think the woman is your ma, so it will be all right. See?"

      Peaches nodded. Mickey wrapped her in the remnants of a blanket, carried her downstairs and laid her in the basket. By turning on her side and drawing up her feet, she had more room than she needed.

      "They won't let us on the cars," said the woman.

      "Dearest lady, wait and see," said Mickey. "Now Peaches, shut your eyes, also your mouth. Don't you take a chance at saying a word. If they won't stand the basket, we'll carry you, but it would hurt you less, while it would come in handy when we run out of cars. You needn't take coin only for going, dearest lady; you'll be silver plated coming back."

      "You little fool," said the woman, but she stooped to her end of the basket.

      "Ready, Peaches," said Mickey, "and if it hurts, 'member it will soon be over, and you'll be where nobody will ever hurt you again."

      "Hurry!" begged the child.

      Down the long stairs they went and to the car line. Crowded car after car whirled past; finally one came not so full, it stopped to let off passengers. Mickey was at the conductor's elbow.

      "Please mister, a lame kid," he pleaded. "We want to move her. Please, please help us on."

      "Can't!" said the conductor. "Take a taxi."

      "Broke my limousine," said Mickey. "Aw come on mister; ain't you got kids of your own?"

      "Get out of the way!" shouted the conductor.

      "Hang on de back wid the basket," cried the woman.

      With Peaches laid over her shoulder, she swung to the platform, and found a seat, while Mickey grabbed the basket and ran to the back screaming after her: "I got my fare; only pay for yourself." Mickey told the conductor to tell the lady where to leave the car. When she stepped down he was ready with the basket. Peaches, panting and in cold perspiration with pain, was laid in it.

      "Lovely part of the village, ain't it, lady?" said Mickey. "See the castles of the millyingaires piercing the sky; see their automobiles at the curb; see the lovely ladies and gents promenading the streets enjoying the spring?"

      Every minute Mickey talked to keep the woman from noticing how far she was going; but soon she growled: "How many miles furder is it?"

      "Just around a corner, up an alley, and down a side street a step. Nothing at all! Nice promenade for a spry, lovely young lady like you. Evening walk, smell spring in the air. 'Most there now, Peaches."

      "Where are ye takin' this kid? How'll I ever get back to the car line?" asked the woman.

      Mickey ignored the first question. "Why, I'll be eschorting you of course, dearest lady," he said.

      At the point of rebellion, Mickey spoke. "Now set the basket down right here," he ordered. "I'll be back in no time with the lady-bird."

      He returned in a few minutes. Into her outstretched palm he counted twenty-two nickels, picked the child from the basket, darted around a corner calling, "Back in a minute," and was gone.

      "Now Peaches, we got some steps to climb," he said. "Grip my neck tight and stand just a little more."

      "I ain't hurt!" she asserted. "I like seein' things. I never saw so much before. I ain't hurt—much!"

      "Your face, your breathing, and the sweating on your lips, is a little disproving," said Mickey, "but I'll have to take your word for it, 'cause I can't help it; but it'll soon be over so you may rest."

      Mickey climbed a flight, then sat down until he could manage another. The last flight he rested three times. One reason he laid Peaches on the floor was because he couldn't reach the bed. After a second's pause he made a light, and opened the milk bottle.

      "Connect with that," he said. "I got to take the lady back to the cars."

      "Oh!" cried the connected child. "Oh Mickey, how good!"

      "Go slow!" said Mickey. "You better save half to have with some bread for your supper. Now I got to leave you a little bit, but you needn't be afraid, 'cause I'll lock you in. Nobody will 'get' you here."

      "Now for the cars," said Mickey to his helper.

      "What did them folks say?" she asked.

      "Tickled all over," answered Mickey promptly.

      "That bundle of dirty rags!" she scoffed.

      "They are going to throw away the rags and wash her," said Mickey. "She's getting her supper now."

      "Sounds like lying," said the woman, "but mebby it ain't. Save me, I can't see why anybody would want a kid at any time, let alone a reekin' bunch of skin and crooked bones."

      "You've known folks to want a dog, ain't you?" said Mickey. "Sure something that can think and talk back must be a lot more amusing. I see the parks are full of the rich folks dolling up the dogs, feeding them candy and sending them out for an airing in their automobiles; so it's up to the poor people to look after the homeless children, isn't it?"

      "Do you know the folks that took her?"

      "Sure I do!" said Mickey.

      "Do you live close?" she persisted.

      "Yes! I'm much obliged for your help, dearest lady. When you get home, go up to the last attic back, and if there is anything there you want, help yourself. Peaches don't need it now, while there's no one else. Thank you, and good-bye. Don't fly before your wings grow, 'cause I know you'll feel like trying to-night."

      Mickey hurried back to his room. The milk bottle lay on the floor, the child asleep beside it. The boy gazed at her. There were strange and peculiar stirrings in his lonely little heart. She was so grimy he scarcely could tell what she looked like, but the grip of her tiny hot hands was on him. Presently he laughed.

      "Well fellers! Look what I've annexed! And I was hunting a dog! Well, she's lots better. She won't eat much more, she can talk, and she'll be something alive waiting when I come home. Gee, I'm glad I found her."

      Mickey set the washtub on the floor near the sleeping child, and filling the dishpan with water, put it over the gasoline burner. Then he produced soap, a towel, and comb. He looked at the child again, and going to the box that contained his mother's clothing he hunted out a nightdress. Then he sat down to wait for the water to heat. The door slammed when he went after a bucket of cold water, and awakened the girl. She looked at him, then at his preparations.

      "I ain't going to be washed," she said. "It'll hurt me. Put me on the bed."

      "Put you on my bed, dirty like you are?" cried Mickey. "I guess