now, Mickey. Can you find your way?"
"Sure!" laughed Mickey. "If you put the address on. She started me from the street."
"The address is plain. For straightening my rooms and carrying the note, will that be about right?"
"A lady-bird! Gee!" cried Mickey. "I didn't s'pose you was a plute! And I don't s'pose so yet. You want a Little Brother bad if you're willing to buy one. This number ain't far out, and I wouldn't have sold more than three papers this time of day—twenty-five is about right."
"But you forget cleaning my rooms," said Douglas.
Mickey grinned, his face flushed.
"Me to you!" he said. "Nothing! Just a little matter of keeping in practice. Good-bye and be good to yourself!"
Douglas turned to the telephone.
"Leslie!" he said, "I'm sending Mickey back to you with a note, not because I had anything to say I couldn't say now, but because I can't manage him. I pretended I didn't care, and let him go. Can't you help me? See if you can't interest him in something that at least will bring him back, or show us where to find him. Certainly! Thank you very much!"
When Mickey delivered the letter the lovely young woman just happened to be in the hall. She told him to come in until she read it, to learn what Mr. Bruce wanted. Mickey followed into a big room, looked around, then a speculative, appreciative gleam crossed his face. He realized the difference between a home and a show room. He did not know what he was seeing or why it affected him as it did. Really the thought that was in his mind was that this woman was far more attractive, but had less money to spend on her home, than many others. He missed the glitter, but enjoyed the comfort, for he leaned back against the chair offered him, thinking what a cool, restful place it was. The girl seemed in no hurry to open the letter.
"Have trouble finding Mr. Bruce?" she asked.
"Easy! I'd been to the same building before."
"And I suppose you'll be there many times again," she suggested.
"I'm going back right now, if you want to send an answer to that letter," he said.
"And if it requires none?" she questioned.
"Then I'm going to try to sell the rest of these papers, get a slate for Lily and go home."
"Is Lily your little sister?" she asked.
Mickey straightened, firmly closing his lips. He had done it again.
"Just a little girl I know," he said cautiously.
"A little bit of a girl?" she asked.
"'Bout the littlest girl you ever saw," said Mickey, unconsciously interested in the subject.
"And you are going to take her a slate to draw pictures on? How fine! I wish you'd carry her a package for me, too. I was arranging my dresser this morning and I put the ribbons I don't want into a box for some child. Maybe Lily would like them for her doll."
"Lily hasn't any doll," he said. "She had one, but her granny sold it and got drunk on the money."
Mickey stopped suddenly. In a minute more he would have another
Orphans' Home argument on his hands.
"Scandalous!" cried Leslie. "In my room there is a doll just begging to go to some little girl. If you took it to Lily, would her granny sell it again?"
"Not this morning," said Mickey. "You see Miss, a few days ago she lost her breath. Permanent! No! If Lily had a doll, nobody would take it from her now."
"I'll bring it at once," she offered "and the ribbons."
"Never mind," said Mickey. "I can get her a doll."
"But you haven't seen this one!" cried Leslie. "You save your money for oranges."
Without waiting for a reply she left the room, presently returning with a box and a doll that seemed to Mickey quite as large as Peaches. It had a beautiful face, hair, real hair that could be combed, and real clothes that could be taken off. Leslie had dressed it for a birthday gift for the little daughter of one of her friends; but by making haste she could prepare another. Mickey gazed in bewilderment. He had seen dolls, even larger and more wonderful than that, in the shop windows, but connecting such a creation with his room and Peaches required mental adjustments.
"I guess you better not," he said with conviction.
"But why not?" asked Leslie in amazement.
"Well for 'bout fifty reasons," replied Mickey. "You see Lily is a poor kid, and her back is bad. That doll is so big she couldn't dress it without getting all tired out; and what's the use showing her such dresses, when she can't have any herself. She's got the best she ever had, and the best she can have right now; so that ain't the kind of a doll for Lily—it's too big—and too—too gladsome!"
"I see," laughed Leslie. "Well Mickey, you show me what would be the right size of a doll for Lily. I'll get another, and dress it as you say. How would that do?"
"You needn't!" said Mickey. "Lily is happy now."
"But wouldn't she like a doll?" persisted Leslie. "I never knew a girl who didn't love a doll. Wouldn't she like a doll?"
"'Most to death I 'spect," said Mickey. "I know she said she cried for the one her granny sold, 'til she beat her. Yes I guess she'd like a doll; but I can get her one."
"But you can't make white nighties for Lily to put on it to take to bed with her, and cunning little dresses for morning, and a street dress for afternoon, and a party dress for evening," tempted the girl.
"Lily has been on the street twice, and she never heard of a party. Just nighties and the morning dress would do, and there's no use for me to be sticking. If you like to give away dolls, Lily might as well have one, for she'd just—I don't know what she would do about it," conceded Mickey.
"All right," said Leslie. "I'll dress it this afternoon, and tomorrow you can come for it in the evening before you go home. If I am not here, the package will be ready. Take the ribbons now. She'd like them for her hair."
"Her hair's too short for a ribbon," said Mickey.
"Then a headband! This way!" said Leslie.
She opened a box and displayed a wonderment of ribbon bands, and bits of gay colour.
"Gee!" gasped Mickey. "I couldn't pick up that much brightness for her in a year!"
"You save what you find for her?" asked Leslie.
"Sure!" said Mickey. "You see Miss, things are pretty plain where she is, so all the brightness I can take her ain't going to hurt her eyes. Thank you heaps. Is there going to be any answer to the letter?"
"Why I haven't read it yet!" cried the girl.
"No! A-body can see that some one else is rustling for your grub!" commented Mickey.
"That's so too," laughed Leslie. "Darling old Daddy!"
"Just
