Michael O'Halloran — S.O.S.
"You _can't_ take care of a girl by yourself," she insisted.
"The _law_ won't allow you."
"Oh can't I?"
scoffed Mickey.
"Well you're mistaken, 'cause I am!
And getting along bully!
You ought to seen her last night, and then this morning.
Next time I yell for help, I won't ask to have anybody sent, I'll ask Him to help me save our souls, myself.
Ever see that big, white, wonderful Jesus at the Cathedral door, ma'am, holding the little child in His arms so loving?
I don't s'pose He stopped to ask whether it was a girl, or a boy, 'fore He took it up; He just opened his arms to the first _child_ that _needed_ Him.
And if I remember right, He didn't say: 'Suffer little children to be sent to Orphings' Homes.'
Mammy never read it to me _that_ way.
It was suffer them to come to 'Me,' and be took up, and held tender.
See?
Nix on the Orphings' Home people.
They ain't in my class.
Beaucheous lady, adoo!
Farewell!
I
depart!"
Mickey wheeled, vanishing.
It was a wonderful exhibition of curves, leaps, and darts.
He paused for breath when he felt safe.
"So that's the dope!"
he marvelled.
"I can't take care of a girl?
Going to take her away from me?
I'd like to know _why?
_ Men all the time take care of women.
I see boys taking care of girls I know their mothers left with them, every day--I'd like to know _why_.
Mother said I was to take care of _her_.
She said that's what men were made _for_.
'Cause _he didn't_ take care of her, was why she was glad my father was _dead_.
I guess I know what I'm doing!
But I've learned something!
Nix on the easy talk after this; and telling anybody you meet all you know.
Shut mouth from now on.
'What's your name, little boy?'
'Andrew Carnegie.'
'Where d'you live?'
'Castle on the Hudson!'
A mouth just tight shut about Lily, after this!
And nix on the Swell Dames!
Next one can bust her crust for all I care!
I won't touch her!"
On the instant, precisely that thing occurred, at Mickey's very feet.
With his lips not yet closed, he knelt to shove his papers under a woman's head, then went racing up the stone steps she had rolled down, his quick eye catching and avoiding the bit of fruit on which she had slipped.
He returned in a second with help.
As the porter lifted the inert body, Mickey slid his hands under her head, and advised: "Keep her straight!"
Into one of the big hospitals he helped carry a blue and white clad nurse, on and on, up elevators and into a white porcelain room where they laid her on a glass table.
Mickey watched with frightened eyes.
Doctors and nurses came running.
He stood waiting for his papers.
He was rather sick, yet he remembered he had five there he must sell.
"Better clear out of here now!"
suggested a surgeon.
"My papers!"
said Mickey.
"She fell right cross my feet.
I slid them under, to make her head more pillowlike on the stones.
Maybe I can sell some of them."
The surgeon motioned to a nurse at the door.
"Take this youngster to the office and pay him for the papers he has spoiled," he ordered.
"Will she--is she going to----?"
wavered Mickey.
"I'm not sure," said the surgeon.
"From the bleeding probably concussion; but she will live.
Do you know how she came to fall?"
"There was a smear of something on the steps she didn't see," explained Mickey.
"Thank you!
Go with the nurse," said the surgeon.
Then to an attendant: "Take Miss Alden's number, and see to her case.
She was going after something."
Mickey turned back.
"Paper, maybe," he suggested, pointing to her closed hand.
The surgeon opened it and found a nickel.
He handed it to Mickey.
"If you have a clean one left, let this nurse take it to Miss Alden's case, and say she has been assigned other duty.
See to sending a substitute at once."
Every paper proved to be marked.
"I can bring you a fresh one in a second, lady," offered Mickey.
"I got the money."
"All right," she said.
"Wait with it in the office and then I'll pay you."
"I'm sent for a paper.
I'm to be let in as soon as I get it," announced Mickey to the porter.
"I ain't taking chances of being turned down," he said to himself, as he stopped a second to clean the step.
He returned and was waiting when the nurse came.
She was young and fair faced; her hair was golden, and as she paid Mickey for his papers he wondered how soon he could have Lily looking like her.
He took one long survey as he pocketed the money, thinking he would rush home at once;
but he wanted to fix in his mind how Lily must appear, to be right, for he thought a nurse in the hospital would be right.
The nurse knew she was beautiful, and to her Mickey's long look was tribute, male tribute; a small male indeed, but such a winning one; so she took the occasion to be her loveliest, and smile her most attractive smile.
Mickey surrendered.
He thought she was like an angel, that made him think of Heaven, Heaven made him think of God, God made him think of his call for help that morning, the call made him think of the answer, the beautiful woman before him made him think that possibly _she_ might be the answer instead of the other one.
He rather doubted it, but it might be a chance.
Mickey was alert for chances for Peaches, so he smiled again, then he asked: "Are you in such an awful hurry?"
"I think we owe you more than merely paying for your papers," she said.
"What is it?"
Again Mickey showed how long and how wide Lily was.
"And with hair like yours, and eyes and cheeks that would be, if she had her chance, and nobody to give her that chance but just me," he said.
"Me and Lily are all each other's got," he explained hastily.
"We're _home_ folks.
We're a family.
We don't want no bunching in corps and squads.
We're nix on the Orphings' Home business; but you _must know_, ma'am--would you, oh would you tell me just how I should be taking care of her?
I'm doing everything like my mother did to me; but I was well and strong.
Maybe Lily, being a girl, should have things different.
A-body so beautiful as you, would tell me, wouldn't you?"
Then a miracle happened.
The nurse, so clean she smelled like a drug store, so lovely she shone as a sunrise, laid an arm across Mickey's shoulders.
"You come with me," she said.
She went to a little room, and all alone she asked Mickey questions; with his eyes straight on hers, he answered.
She told him surely he could take care of Lily.
She explained how.
She rang for a basket and packed it full of things he must have, showing him how to use them.
She told him to come each Saturday at four o'clock, as she was going off duty, and tell her how he was getting along.
She gave him a thermometer, and told him how to learn if the child had fever.
She told him about food, and she put in an ointment, instructing him to rub the little back with it, so the bed would not be so tiresome.
She showed him how to arrange the pillows;
when he left, the tears were rolling down Mickey's cheeks.
Both of them were so touched she laid her arm across his shoulder again and went as far as the elevator, while a passport to her at any time was in his pocket.
"I 'spect other folks tell you you are beautiful like flowers, or music, or colours," said Mickey in farewell, "but you look like a window in Heaven to me, and I can see right through you to God and all the beautiful angels; but what gets me is why the other one had to bust her crust, to make you come true!"
The nurse was laughing and wiping her eyes at the same time.
Mickey gripped the basket until his hands were stiff as he sped homeward at least two hours early and happy about it.
At the last grocery he remembered every word and bought bread, milk, and fruit with care "for a sick lady" he explained, so the grocer, who knew him, used care.
Triumphing Mickey climbed the stairs.
He paused a second in deep thought at the foot of the last flight, then ascended whistling to let Peaches know that he was coming, then on his threshold recited: "_One't a little kid named Lily, Was so sweet she'd knock you silly, Yellow hair in millying curls, Beat a mile all other girls.
_" She was on his bed; she was on his pillow; she had been lonely; both arms were stretched toward him.
"Mickey, hurry!"
she cried.
"Mickey, lemme hold you 'til I'm sure!
Mickey, all day I didn't hardly durst breathe, fear the door'd open an' they'd '_get_' me.
Oh Mickey, you won't let them, will you?"
Mickey dropped his bundles and ran to the bed.
This time he did not shrink from her wavering clasp.
It was delight to come home to something alive, something that belonged to him, something to share with, something to work and think for, something that depended upon him.
"Now nix on the scare talk," he comforted.
"Forget it!
I've lived here three years alone, and not a single time has anybody come to 'get' me, so they won't you.
There's only one thing can happen us.
If I get sick or spend too much on eating, and don't pay the rent, the man that owns this building will fire us out.
If we, _if we_" Mickey repeated impressively, "pay our rent regular, in advance, nobody will _ever_ come, not _ever_, so don't worry."
"Then what's all them bundles?"
fretted Peaches.
"You ortn't a-got so much.
You'll never get the _next_ rent paid!
They'll 'get' me sure."
"Now throttle your engine," advised Mickey.
"Stop your car!
Smash down on the brakes!
They are things the city you reside in furnishes its taxpayers, or something like that.
I pay my rent, so this is my _share_, and it's things for you: to make you comfortable.
Which are you worst--tiredest, or hungriest, or hottest?"
"I don't know," she said.
"Then I'll make a clean get-a-way," said Mickey.
"Washing is cooling;
and it freshens you up a lot."
So Mickey brought his basin again, bathing the tired child gently as any woman could have done it.
"See what I got!"
he cried as he opened bundles and explained.
"I'm going to see if you have fever."
Peaches rebelled at the thermometer.
"Now come on in," urged Mickey.
"Slide straight home to your base!
If I'm going to take care of you, I'm going to right.
You can't lay here eating wrong things if you have _fever_.
No-sir-ee!
You don't get to see in any more of these bundles, nor any supper, nor talked to any more, 'til you put this little glass thing under your tongue and hold it there just this way"--Mickey showed how--"three minutes by the clock, then I'll know what to do with you next.
I'll sit beside you, and hold your hands, and tell you about the pretty lady that sent it."
Mickey wiped the thermometer on the sheet, then presented it.
Peaches took one long look at him and opened her lips.
Mickey inserted the tube, set the clock in sight, and taking both her hands he held them closely and talked as fast as he could to keep her from using them.
He had not half finished the day when the time was up.
If he had done it right, Peaches had very little, if any, fever.
"Now turn over so I can rub your back to make it all nice and rested," he said.
"And then I'll get supper."
"I don't want my back rubbed," she protested.
"My back's all right now."
"Nothing to do with going to have it rubbed," said Mickey.
"It would be a silly girl who would have a back that wouldn't walk, and then wouldn't even try having it doctored, so that it would get better.
Just try Lily, and if it doesn't _help_, I won't do it any more."
Peaches took another long look at Mickey, questioning in nature, then turned her back to him.
"Gosh, kid!
Your back looks just like horses' going to the fertilizer plant," he said.
"Ain't that swearin's?"
asked Peaches promptly.
"First-cousin," answered Mickey.
"'Scuse me Lily.
If you could see your back, you'd 'scuse worse than that."
"Feelin' ull do fer me," said Peaches.
"I live wid it."
"Honest kid, I'm scared to touch you," he wavered.
"Aw g'wan!"
said Peaches.
"I ain't goin' screechin' even if you hurt awful, an' you touch like a sparrer lookin' for crumbs.
Mickey, can we put out a few?"
"For the sparrows?
Sure!"
cried Mickey.
"They're the ones that God sees especial when they fall.
Sure!
Put out some in a minute.
Still now!"
Mickey poured on ointment, then began softly rubbing it into the dreadful back.
His face was drawn with anxiety and filled with horror.
He was afraid, but the nurse said this he should do, while Mickey's first lesson had been implicit obedience.
So he rubbed gently as he was fearful; when Peaches made no complaint, a little stronger, and a little stronger, until he was tired.
Then he covered her, telling her to lie on it, and see how it felt.
Peaches looked at him with wondering eyes.
"Mickey," she said, "nothin" in all my life ever felt like that, an' the nice cool washin' you do.
Mickey-lovest, nex' time I act mean 'bout what you want to do to me, slap me good, an' hold me, an' go on an' _do_ it!"
"Now nix on the beating," said Mickey.
"I never had any from my mother;
but the kids who lost sales to me took my nickels, and give me plenty.
You ought to know, Lily, that I'm trying hard as I can to make you feel good; and to take care of you.
What I want to do, I think will make you _better_, so I'm just nachally going to _do_ it, 'cause you're mine, and you got to do what I say.
But I won't say anything that'll hurt you and make you worse.
If you must take time to think new things over, I can wait; but I can't hit you Lily, you're too little, too sick, and I like you too well.
I wish you'd be a lady!
I wish you wouldn't ever be bad again!"
"Hoh I feel so good!"
Peaches stretched like a kitten.
"Mickey, bet I can walk 'fore long if you do that often!
Mickey, I just love you, an' _love_ you.
Mickey, say that at the door over again."
"What?"
queried Mickey.
"'One't a little kid named Lily,'" prompted Peaches.
Mickey laughed and obeyed.
Neatly he put away all that had been supplied him; before lighting the burner he gave Lily a drink of milk and tried arranging both pillows to prop her up as he had been shown.
When the water boiled he dropped in two bouillon cubes the nurse had given him, and set out some crackers he had bought.
He put the milk in two cups, and when he cut the bread, he carefully collected every crumb, putting it on the sill in the hope that a bird might come.
The thieving sparrows, used to watching windows and stealing from stores set out to cool, were soon there.
Peaches, to whom anything with feathers was a bird, was filled with joy.
The odour of the broth was delicious.
Mickey danced, turned handsprings, and made the funniest remarks.
Then he fixed the bowl on a paper, broke the crackers in her broth, growing unspeakably happy at her delight as she tasted it.
"Every Saturday you get a box of that from the Nurse Lady," he boasted.
"Pretty soon you'll be so fat I can't carry you and so well you can have supper ready when I come, then we can----" Mickey stopped short.
He had started to say, "go to the parks," but if other ladies were like the first one he had talked with, and if, as she said, the law would not let him keep Peaches, he had better not try to take her where people would see her.
"Can what?"
asked Peaches.
"Have the most fun!"
explained Mickey.
"We can sit in the window to see the sky and birds; you can have the shears and cut pictures from the papers I'll bring you, while I'll read all my story books to you.
I got three that She gave me for Christmas presents, so I could learn to read them----" "Mickey could I ever learn to read them?"
"Sure!"
cried Mickey.
"Surest thing you know!
You are awful smart, Lily.
You can learn in no time, and then you can read while I'm gone, so it won't seem long.
I'll teach you.
Mother taught me.
I can read the papers I sell.
Honest I can.
I often pick up torn ones I can bring to you.
It's lots of fun to know what's going on.
I sell many more by being able to tell what's in them than kids who can't read.
I look all over the front page and make up a spiel on the cars.
I always fold my papers neat and keep them clean.
To-day it was like this: 'Here's your nice, clean, morning paper!
Sterilized!
Deodorized!
Vulcanized!'
" "Mickey what does that mean?"
asked Peaches.
"Now you see how it comes in!"
said Mickey.
"If you could read the papers, you'd _know_.
'Sterilized,' is what they do to the milk in hot weather to save the slum kids.
That's us, Lily.
'Deodorized,' is taking the bad smell out of things.
'Vulcanized,' is something they do to stiffen things.
I guess it's what your back needs."
"Is all them things done to the papers?"
asked Peaches.
"Well, not _all_ of them," laughed Mickey, "but they are starting in on _some_ of them, and all would be a good thing.
The other kids who can't read don't know those words, so I study them out and use them; it catches the crowd for they laugh, and then pay me for making them.
See?
This world down on the streets is in such a mix a laugh is the scarcest thing there is; so they _pay_ for it.
No grouchy, sad-cat-working-on-your-sympathy kid sells many.
I can beat one with a laugh every inning."
"What's 'inning,' Mickey?"
came the next question.
"Playin' a side at a ball game.
Now Ty Cobb----" "Go on with what you say about the papers," interrupted Peaches.
"All right!"
said Mickey.
"'Here's your nice, clean morning paper!
Sterilized!
Deodorized!
Vulcanized!
I _like_ to sell them.
You _like_ to buy them!
_Sometimes_ I sell them!
Sometimes I _don't!
_ Latest war news!
Japan takes England!
England takes France!
France takes Germany!
