Michael O'Halloran — Mickey's Miracle
"Mickey, are you prejudiced against Orphans' Homes?"
asked Mrs. Minturn as she stepped from the car.
"Ain't no name for it," said Mickey.
"I'm dead against bunching children in squads.
If rich folks want to do something worth while with their money, they can do it by each family taking as many orphings as they can afford, and raising them personal.
See?"
"I should say I do!"
exclaimed the lady.
"I must speak to James about that.
We have two of our own, and William, but I believe we could manage a few more."
"I know one I'd like very much to try," said Mr. Winton, but Mickey never appeared so unconscious.
He managed his introductions very well, while again Peaches justified her appellation by being temptingly sweet and conspicuously acid.
When Mickey reached Peter in his round of making friends acquainted, he slid his arm through that of the big man and said smilingly: "Nobody is going to mix me with Peter's son by blood--see what a fine chap Junior is; but Peter and I fixed up my sonship with the Almighty, whom my Peter didn't deny, when he took me in, and with the judge of the Multiopolis courts; so even if it doesn't show on the outside, I belong, don't I?"
Peter threw his left arm around Mickey even as he shook hands with his right: "You surely do," he said, "by law and by love, to the bottom of all our hearts."
The visit was a notable success.
The buttermilk was cold, the spice cake was fresh, the apples and peaches were juicy, the improvements highly commendable.
Peter was asked if he would consider a membership in the Golf Club, the playhouse was discussed, and three hours later a group of warm friends parted, with the agreement that Mickey was to spend a day of the latter part of the week fishing on Atwater.
The Hardings smiled broadly.
"Well son, did we manage that to your satisfaction?"
asked Peter.
"Sure!"
said Mickey.
"I might have been mistaken in what half of that trip was for, but I think not."
"So do I," said Mrs. Harding emphatically.
"They were just itching to get their fingers on Peaches; while Bruce and Mr. Winton both were chagrined over our getting you first."
"We feel bad about that too, don't we, Peter?"
laughed Mickey.
"Well, I would," said Peter, "if it were the other way around.
I didn't mind the young fellow.
You'll be with him every day, and he'll soon have boys of his own no doubt; but I feel sorry for Mr. Winton.
He looks hungry when he watches you.
He could work you into his business fine."
"He's all right, he's a nice man," said Mickey, "but I've lived off the _Herald_ all my life 'til this summer, so when school is over I go straight to Mr. Chaffner."
The Winton car ran to the club house; sitting in a group, the occupants looked at each other rather foolishly.
"Seems to me you were going to bring Peaches right along, if you liked her, Leslie," laughed Douglas.
"The little vixen!"
she said flushing.
"Sorry you didn't care for her," he commented.
"It is a pity!"
said Leslie.
"But I didn't 'miss bringing her along' any farther than Mrs. Minturn missed taking her to the hospital to be examined and treated!"
"I'll have to go again about that," said Mrs. Minturn.
"I just couldn't seem to get at it, someway."
"No, you 'just couldn't seem to,'" agreed Douglas.
"And Mr. Winton 'just couldn't seem to' lay covetous hands on Mickey, and bear him away to be his assistant any more than I could force him to be my Little Brother.
I hope all of us have a realizing sense that we are permitted to be good and loyal friends; but we will kindly leave Mickey to make his own arrangements, and work out his own salvation, and that of his child.
And Leslie, I didn't hear you offering to buy any of the quaint dishes and old furniture you hoped you might pick up there, either."
"Heavens!"
cried Leslie half tearfully.
"How would any one go about offering to buy an old platter that was wrapped in a silk shawl and kept in the dresser drawer during repairs, or ask a man to set a price on old furniture, when he was scraping off the varnish of generations, and showing you wood grain and colouring with the pride of a veteran collector?
I feel so silly!
Let's play off our chagrin, and then we'll be in condition for friendship which is the part that falls to us, if I understand Mickey."
"Well considering the taste I've had of the quality of his friendship, I hope you won't be surprised at the statement that I feel highly honoured," said Mr. Winton, leading the way, while the others thoughtfully followed.
With four days' work the Harding home began to show what was being accomplished.
The song of the housewife carried to the highway.
Neighbours passing went home to silent, overworked drudges, and critically examined for the first time stuffy, dark kitchens, reeking with steam, heat, and the odour of cooking and decorated with the grime of years.
The little leaven of one home in the neighbourhood, as all homes should be, set them thinking.
A week had not passed until people began calling Mrs. Harding to the telephone to explain just what she was doing, and why.
Men would stop to ask Peter what was going on, so every time he caught a victim, he never released him until the man saw sunrise above a kitchen table, a line in the basement for a winter wash, kitchen implements from a pot scraper and food pusher to a gas range and electric washing machine, with a furnace and hardwood floors thrown in.
Soon the rip of shovelled shingles, the sound of sawing, and the ring of hammers filled the air.
The Harding improvements improved so fast, that sand, cement, and the big pile of lumber began accumulating at Peter's corner of the crossroads below the home, for the playhouse.
Men who started by calling Peter a fool, ended by borrowing his plans and belabouring themselves for their foolishness; for the neighbourhood was awakening and beginning to develop a settled conviction as to what constituted the joy of life, and that the place to enjoy it was at home, and the time immediately.
Peter's reward was not only in renewed happiness for himself and Nancy; equal to it was his pleasure over the same renewal for many of his lifelong friends.
Mickey started on his day to Atwater with joyful anticipation, but he jumped from Douglas' car and ran up the Harding front walk at three o'clock, his face anxious.
He saw the Harding car at the gate, and wondered at Peter sitting dressed for leisure on the veranda.
"Got anxious about Lily," he explained.
"Out on the lake I thought I heard her call me, then I had the notion she was crying for me.
They laughed at me, but I couldn't stand it.
Is she asleep, as they said she'd be?"
Peter opened his lips, but no word came.
Mickey slowly turned a ghastly white.
Peter reached in his side pocket, drew out a letter, and handed it to the boy.
Mickey pulled the sheet from the envelope, still staring at Peter, then glanced at what he held and collapsed on the step.
Peter moved beside him, laid a steadying arm across his shoulders and proved his fear was as great as Mickey's by being unable to speak.
At last the boy produced articulate words.
"_He came?
_" he marvelled.
"About ten this morning," said Peter.
"He took her to the hospital?"
panted Mickey.
"Yes," said Peter.
"Why did you let him?"
demanded Mickey.
That helped Peter.
He indicated the letter.
"There's your call for him!"
he said, emphatically.
"You asked me to adopt her so I could give him orders to go ahead when he came."
"Why didn't you telephone me?"
asked Mickey.
"I did," said Peter.
"The woman who answered didn't know where you were, but she said their car had gone to town, so I thought maybe they'd find you there.
I was just going to call them again."
"Was she afraid?"
wavered Mickey.
"Yes, I think she was," said Peter.
"Did she cry for me?"
asked Mickey.
"Yes she did," admitted Peter, who hadn't a social lie in his being, "but when he offered to put off the examination till he might come again, she climbed from the cot and made him take her.
Ma went with her."
"The Sunshine Nurse came?"
questioned Mickey.
"Yes," said Peter, "and Mrs. Minturn.
She sent for him to see about an operation on a child she is trying to save, so when it was over, he showed her your letter.
She brought them out in her car, and Ma went back with them."
"She may be on that glass table right now," gulped Mickey.
"What time is it?
When's the next car?
Run me to the station will you, and if you've got any money, let me have it 'til I get to mine."
"Of course!"
said Peter.
"Will Junior and Mary be all right?"
asked Mickey, pausing in his extremity to think of others.
"Yes, they often stay while we go."
"Hurry!"
begged Mickey.
Peter took hold of the gear and faced straight ahead.
"She's oiled, the tank full, the engine purring like a kitten," he said.
"Mickey, I always wanted to beat that trolley just once, to show it I _could_, if I wasn't loaded with women and children.
Awful nice road----" "Go on!"
said Mickey.
Peter smiled, sliding across the starter.
"Sit tight!"
he said tersely.
The big car slipped up the road no faster than it had gone frequently, passed the station, then on and on; Mickey twisted to look back at the rattle of the trolley stopping behind them, watching it with wishful eye.
Peter opened his lips to say: "Just warmed up enough, and an even start!"
The trolley came abreast and whistled.
Peter blew his horn, glancing that way with a little "come on" forward jerk of his head.
The motorman nodded, touched his gear and the car started.
Peter laid prideful, loving hands on his machinery; for the first time with legitimate racing excuse, as he long had wished to, he tried out his engine.
Mickey could see the faces of the protesting passengers and the conductor grinning in the door, but Peter could not have heard if he had tried to tell him.
Flying it was, smooth and even, past fields, orchards, and houses; past people who cried out at them and shook their fists.
Mickey looked at Peter and registered for life each line of his big frame and lineament of his face, as he gripped the gear and put his car over the highway.
When they reached the pavement, Mickey touched Peter's arm.
"Won't make anything by getting arrested," he cautioned.
"No police for blocks yet," said Peter.
"Well there's risk of life and damage suit at each crossing!"
shouted Mickey, so Peter slowed a degree; but he was miles ahead of all regulations as he stopped before the gleaming entrance.
Mickey sprang from the car and hurried up the steps.
Mrs. Minturn arose from a seat and came to meet him.
"Take me to her quick!"
begged Mickey.
Silently she led the way to her suite in her old home, and opened the door.
Mickey had a glimpse of Mrs. Harding, his Sunshine Nurse, and three men, one of whom he recognized from reproductions of his features in the papers.
A very white, tired-looking Peaches stretched both hands and uttered a shrill cry as Mickey appeared in the doorway.
His answer was inarticulate while his arms spread widely.
Then Peaches arose, and in a few shuffling but sustained steps fell on his breast, gripping him with all her strength.
"Oh darling, you'll kill yourself," wailed Mickey.
He laid her on the davenport and knelt clasping her.
Peaches regained self-control first; she sat up, shamelessly wiping Mickey's eyes and her own alternately.
"Flowersy-girl, did you hurt yourself awful?"
"I know something I won't tell," chanted Peaches, as she had been doing for days.
Mickey looked at her, then up at Peter, who had entered and come to them.
"_Did you?
_" eagerly asked Peter of the child.
Peaches nodded proudly.
"To meet Mickey," she triumphed.
"I wouldn't for anybody else _first!
The longest piece yet!
And it didn't hurt and I didn't fall!
_" "Good!"
shouted Peter.
"That's the ticket!"
"You look here Miss Chicken, what do you mean?"
cried Mickey wonderingly.
"Oh the Doctor Carrel man you sent for, came," explained Peaches, "and you wasn't there, but he had your name on the letter you wrote; he showed me, so I came and let him examination me; but Peter and I been standing alone, and taking steps when nobody was looking.
You've surprised me joyful so much, it takes one as big as that to pay you back."
Mickey clung to his treasure, while turning to Peter an awed, questioning face.
"That's it!"
said Peter.
"She's been on her feet for ten days or such a matter!"
Mickey appealed to Dr. Carrel.
"How about this?"
he demanded.
"She's going to walk," said the great man assuringly.
"It's all over?
You've performed your miracle?"
asked Mickey.
"Yes," said Dr. Carrel.
"It's all over, Mickey; but you had the miracle performed before I saw her, lad."
Mickey retreated to Peaches' neck again, while she smiled over and comforted him.
"Mickey, I knew you'd be crazy," she said.
"I knew you'd be glad, but I didn't know you could be so----" Mickey took her in his arms a second, then slowly recovered his feet and a small amount of self-possession.
Again he turned to the surgeons.
"_Are you sure?
_ Will it hurt her?
Will it last?"
"Very sure," said Dr. Carrel.
"Calm yourself, lad.
Her case is not so unusual; only more aggravated than usual.
I've examined her from crown to sole, and she's straight and sound.
You have started her permanent cure; all you need is to keep on exactly as you are going, and limit her activities so that in her joy she doesn't overdo and tire herself.
You are her doctor.
I congratulate you!"
Dr. Carrel came forward, holding out his hand, and Mickey took it with the one of his that was not gripping Peaches and said, "Aw-a-ah!"
but he was a radiant boy.
"Thank you sir," he said.
"Thank everybody.
But thank you especial, over and over.
I don't know how I'll ever square up with you, but I'll pay you all I have to start on.
I've some money I've saved from my wages, and I'll be working harder and earning more all the time."
"But Mickey," protested the surgeon, "you don't owe me anything.
I
didn't operate!
You had the work done before I arrived.
I would have come sooner, but I knew she couldn't be operated, even if her case demanded it, until she had gained more strength----" He was watching Mickey's face and he read aright, so he continued: "I like that suggestion you made in your letter very much.
Something 'coming in steadily' is a good thing for any man to have.
For the next three months, suppose you send me that two dollars a week you offered me if I'd come.
How would that be?"
Mickey gathered Peaches in his arms and looked over his shoulder as he started on the homeward trip.
"Thank you sir," he said tersely.
"That would be square."
THE END
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