Michael O'Halloran — Big Brother
_Big Brother_ "I've no time to talk," said Douglas Bruce, as Mickey appeared the following day; "my work seems too much for one man.
Can you help me?"
"Sure!"
said Mickey, wadding his cap into his back pocket.
Then he rolled his sleeves a turn higher, lifted his chin a trifle and stepped forward.
"Say what!"
It caught Douglas so suddenly there was no time for concealment.
He laughed heartily.
"That's good!"
he cried.
Mickey grinned in comradeship.
"First, these letters to the box in the hall."
"Next?"
Mickey queried as he came through the door.
"This package to the room of the Clerk in the City Hall, and bring back a receipt bearing his signature."
Mickey saluted, laid the note inside the cover of a book, put it in the middle of the package, and a second later his gay whistle receded down the hall.
"'Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it,'" Douglas quoted.
"Mickey has been trained until he would make a good trainer himself."
In one-half the time the trip had taken the messenger boys Douglas was accustomed to employing, Mickey was back like the Gulf in the Forum, demanding "more."
"See what you can do for these rooms, until the next errand is ready," suggested Douglas.
Mickey began gathering up the morning papers, straightening the rugs, curtains and arranging the furniture.
"Hand this check to the janitor," said Douglas.
"And Mickey, kindly ask him if two dollars was what I agreed to pay him for my extras this week."
"Sure!"
said Mickey.
Douglas would have preferred "Yes sir," but "Sure!"
was a permanent ejaculation decorating the tip of Mickey's tongue.
The man watching closely did not fail to catch the flash of interest and the lifting of the boy figure as he paused for instructions.
When he returned Douglas said casually: "While I am at it, I'll pay off my messenger service.
Take this check to the address and bring a receipt for the amount."
Mickey's comment came swiftly: "Gee!
that boy would be sore, if he lost his job!"
"Messenger Service Agency," Douglas said, busy at his desk.
"No boy would lose his job."
"Oh!"
exclaimed Mickey comprehendingly.
His face lighted at the information.
Next he carried a requisition for books to another city official and telephoned a café to deliver a pitcher of lemonade and some small cakes, and handed the boy a dime.
"Why didn't you send me and save your silver?"
"I did not think," answered Bruce.
"Some one gets the tip, you might as well have had it."
"I didn't mean me _have_ it, I meant you _save_ it."
"Mickey," said Douglas, "you know perfectly I can't take your time unless you accept from me what I am accustomed to paying other boys."
"Letting others bleed you, you mean," said Mickey indignantly.
"Why I'd a-been glad to brought the juice for five!
You never ought to paid more."
"Should have paid more," corrected Douglas.
"'Should have paid more,'" repeated Mickey.
"Thanks!"
"Now try this," said Douglas, filling two glasses.
"'Tain't usual!"
said Mickey.
"You drink that yourself or save it for friends that may drop in."
"Very well!"
said Douglas.
"Of course you might have it instead of the boy who comes after the pitcher, but if you don't like it----" "All right if that's the way!"
agreed Mickey.
He retired to a window seat, enjoyed the cool drink and nibbled the cake, his eyes deeply thoughtful.
When offered a second glass Mickey did not hesitate.
"Nope!"
he said conclusively.
"A fellow's head and heels work better when his stomach is running light.
I can earn more not to load up with a lot of stuff.
I eat at home when my work is finished.
She showed me that."
"She showed you a good many things, didn't She?"
"Sure!"
said Mickey.
"She was my mother, so we had to look out for ourselves.
When you got nothing but yourself between you and the wolf, you learn to fly, and keep your think-tank in running order.
She knew just what was coming to me, so She _showed_ me, and _every single thing She said has come, and then some!
_" "I see!"
said Douglas.
"A wise mother!"
"Sure!"
agreed Mickey.
"But I guess it wouldn't have done either of us much good if I hadn't remembered and kept straight on doing what she taught me."
"You are right, it wouldn't," conceded Douglas.
"That's where I'm going to climb above some of the other fellows," announced Mickey confidently.
"Either they didn't have mothers to teach them or else they did, and forget, or think the teaching wasn't worth anything.
Now me, I _know_ She was right!
She always _proved_ it!
She had been up against it longer than I had and She knew, so I am going to go right along doing as She said.
I'll beat them, and carry double at that!"
"How double, Mickey?"
inquired Douglas.
"I didn't mean to say that," he explained.
"That was a slip.
There's a--there's something----something I'm trying to do that costs more than it does to live.
I'm bound to do it, so I got to run light and keep my lamps polished for chances.
What next, sir?"
"Call 9-40-X, and order my car here," said Douglas.
He bent over his papers to hide his face when from an adjoining room drifted Mickey's voice in clear enunciation and suave intonation: "Mr. Douglas Bruce desires his car to be sent immediately to the Iroquois Building."
His mental comment was: "The little scamp has drifted to street lingo when he lacked his mother to restrain him.
He can speak a fairly clean grade of English now if he chooses."
"Next?"
briskly inquired Mickey.
"Now look here," said Douglas.
"This isn't a horse race.
I earn my living with my brains, not my heels.
I must have time to think things out; when your next job arrives I'll tell you.
If you are tired, take a nap on that couch in there."
"Asleep at the switch!"
marvelled Mickey.
He went to the adjoining room but did not sleep.
He quietly polished and straightened furniture, lingered before bookcases and was at Douglas' elbow as he turned to call him.
Then they closed the offices and went to the car, each carrying a load of ledgers.
"You do an awful business!"
commented Mickey.
"Your car?"
"Yes," answered Douglas.
"You're doing grand, for young as you are."
"I haven't done it all myself, Mickey," explained Douglas.
"I happened to select a father who was of an acquisitive turn of mind.
He left me enough that I can have a comfortable living in a small way, from him."
"Gee!
It's lucky you got the Joy Lady then!"
exclaimed Mickey.
"Maybe you wouldn't ever work if you didn't have her to scratch for!"
"I always have worked and tried to make something of myself," said Douglas.
"Yes, I guess you have," conceded Mickey.
"I think it shows when a man does.
It just shows a lot on you."
"Thank you, Mickey!
Same to you!"
"Aw, nix on me!"
said Mickey.
"I ain't nothing on looks!
I ain't ever looked at myself enough that if I was sent to find Michael O'Halloran I mightn't bring in some other fellow."
"But you're enough acquainted with yourself that you wouldn't bring in a dirty boy with a mouth full of swearing and beer," suggested Douglas.
"Well not this evening!"
cried Mickey.
"On a gamble that ain't my picture!"
"If it were, you wouldn't be here!"
said Douglas.
"No, nor much of any place else 'cept the gutters, alleys, and the police court," affirmed Mickey.
"That ain't my style!
I'd like to be--well--about like you."
"You are perfectly welcome to all I have and am," said Douglas.
"If you fail to take advantage of the offer, it will be your own fault."
"Yes, I guess it will," reflected Mickey.
"You gave me the chance.
I am to blame if I don't cop on to it, and get in the game.
I like you fine!
Your work is more interesting than odd jobs on the street, and you pay like a plute.
You're being worked though.
You pay too much.
If I work for you it would save you money to let me manage that; I could get you help and things a lot cheaper, then you could spend what you save on the Joy Lady, making her more joyous."
"You are calling Miss Winton the Joy Lady?"
"Yes," said Mickey.
"Doesn't she just look it?"
"She surely does," agreed Douglas.
"It's a good title.
I know only two that are better.
She sows happiness everywhere.
What about your Lily girl and her doll?"
"Doll doesn't go.
That's a Precious Child!"
"I see!
Lily is a little girl you like, Mickey?"
"Lily is the littlest girl you ever saw," answered Mickey, "with a bad back so that she hasn't ever walked; and she's so sweet--she's the only thing I've got to love, so I love her 'til it hurts.
Her back is one thing I'm saving for.
I'm going to have it Carreled as soon as I get money, and she grows strong enough to stand it."
"'Carreled?'
" queried Douglas wonderingly.
"You know the man who put different legs on a dog?"
said Mickey.
"I often read about him in papers I sell.
I think he can fix her back.
But not yet.
A Sunshine Nurse I know says nobody can help her back 'til she grows a lot stronger and fatter.
She has to have milk and be rubbed with oil, and not be jerked for a while before it's any use to begin on her back."
"And has she the milk and the oil and the kindness?"
"You just bet she has," said Mickey.
"Her family tends to that.
And she has got a bed, and a window, and her Precious Child, and a slate, and books."
"That's all right then," said Douglas.
"Any time you see she needs anything Mickey, I'd be glad if you would tell me or Miss Winton.
She loves to do kind things to little sick children to make them happier."
"So do I," said Mickey.
"And Lily is _my_ job.
But that isn't robbing Miss Joy Lady.
She can love herself to death if she wants to on hundreds of little, sick, cold, miserable children, in every cellar and garret and tenement of the east end of Multiopolis.
The only kind thing God did for them out there was to give them the first chance at sunrise.
Multiopolis hasn't ever followed His example by giving them anything."
"You mean Miss Winton can find some other child to love and care for?"
asked Douglas.
"Sure!"
said Mickey emphatically.
"It's hands off Lily.
Her family is taking care of her, so she's got all she needs right now."
"That's good!"
said Bruce.
"Here we unload."
They entered a building and exchanged the books they carried for others which Douglas selected with care, then returning to the office, locked them in a safe.
"Now I am driving to the golf grounds for an hour's play," said Douglas.
"Will you go and caddy for me?"
"I never did.
I don't know how," answered Mickey.
"You can learn, can't you?"
suggested Douglas.
"Sure!"
said Mickey.
"I've seen boys carrying golf clubs that hadn't enough sense to break stone right.
I can learn, but my learning might spoil your day's sport."
"It would be no big price to pay for an intelligent caddy," replied Douglas.
"Mr. Bruce, what price is an intelligent caddy worth?"
"Our Scotch Club pays fifty cents a game and each man employs his own boy if he chooses.
The club used to furnish boys, but since the Big Brother movement began, so many of the men have boys in their offices they are accustomed to, and want to give a run over the hills after the day's work, that the rule has been changed.
I can employ you, if you want to serve me."
"I'd go to the _country_ in the car with you, every day you play, and carry your clubs?"
asked Mickey wonderingly.
"Yes," answered Douglas.
"Over real hills, where there's trees, grass, cows and water?"
questioned Mickey.
"Yes," repeated Douglas.
"What time would we get back?"
he asked.
"Depends on how late I play, and whether I have dinner at the club house, say seven as a rule, maybe ten or later at times."
"Nothing doing!"
said Mickey promptly.
"I got to be home at six by the clock every day, even if we were engaged in 'hurling back the enemy.'
See?"
"But Mickey!
That spoils everything!"
cried Douglas.
"Of course you could work for me the remainder of the day if you wanted to, and I could keep my old clubhouse caddy, but I want _you_.
You want the ride in the country, you want the walk, you _need_ the change and recreation.
You are not a real boy if you don't want that!"
"I'm so real, I'm two boys if _wanting_ it counts, but it doesn't!"
said Mickey.
"You see I got a _job_ for evening.
I'm promised.
I'd rather do what you want than anything I ever saw or heard of, except just this.
I've given my word, and I'm depended on.
I couldn't give up this work, and I wouldn't, if I could.
Even golf ain't in it with this job that I'm on."
"What is your work Mickey?"
"Oh I ain't ever exactly certain," said Mickey.
"Sometimes it is one thing, sometimes it is another, but always it's something, and it's work for a party I couldn't disappoint, not noways, not for all the golf in the world."
"You are sure?"
persisted Douglas.
"Dead sure with no changing," said Mickey.
"All right then.
I'm sorry!"
exclaimed Douglas.
"So am I," said Mickey.
"But not about the job!"
Douglas laughed.
"Well come along this evening and look on.
I'll be back before six and I'll run you where we did last night, if that is close your home."
"Thanks," said Mickey.
"I'd love to, but you needn't bother about taking me home.
I can make it if I start at six.
Shall I take the things back to the café?"
"Let them go until morning," said Douglas.
"What becomes of the little cakes?"
"Their fate is undecided.
Have you any suggestions?"
"I should worry!"
he exclaimed.
"They'd fit my pocket.
I could hike past the hospital and ask the Sunshine Lady; if she said so, I could take them to Lily.
Bet she never tasted any like them.
If it's between her and the café selling them over, s'pose she takes the cake?"
Mickey's face was one big insinuating, suggestive smile.
Douglas' was another.
"Suppose she does," he agreed.
"I must wrap them," said Mickey.
"Have to be careful about Lily.
If she's fed dirty, wrong stuff, it will make fever so her back will get worse instead of better."
"Will a clean envelope do?"
suggested Douglas.
"That would cost you two cents," said Mickey.
"Haven't you something cheaper?"
"What about a sheet of paper?"
hazarded Douglas.
"Fine!"
said Mickey, "and only half as expensive."
So they wrapped the little cakes and closed the office.
Then Douglas said: "Now this ends work for the day.
Next comes playtime."
"Then before we begin to play we ought to finish business," said Mickey.
"I have been thinking over what you said the other day, and while I was right about some of it, I was mistaken about part.
I ain't changing anything I said about Minturn men and his sort, and millyingaire men and their sort; but you ain't that kind of a man----" "Thank you, Mickey," said Douglas.
"No you ain't that _kind_ of a man," continued Mickey.
"And you are just the kind of a man I'd _like_ to be; so if the door ain't shut, guess I'll stick around afternoons."
"Not all day?"
inquired Douglas.
"Well you see I am in the paper business and that takes all morning," explained Mickey.
"I can always finish my first batch by noon, lots of times by ten; from that on to six I could work for you."
"Don't you think you could earn more with me, and in the winter at least, be more comfortable?"
asked Douglas.
"Winter!"
cried Mickey, his face whitening.
"Yes," said Douglas.
"The newsboys always look frightfully cold in winter."
"Winter!"
It was a piteous cry.
"What is it, Mickey?"
