Michael O'Halloran — A Safe Proposition
_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?"
