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Michael O'Halloran Part 41

Michael O'Halloran - BestLightNovel.com

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"Mickey," said Douglas Bruce, suddenly filled with compa.s.sion, "I am beginning to understand. Won't you tell me?"

"I guess I got to," panted Mickey. "But I'm afraid! O Lord, I'm so afraid!"

"Afraid of me, Mickey?" asked Douglas gently now.

"Yes, afraid of you," said Mickey, "and afraid of her. Afraid of her, more than you."

"You mean Miss Winton?" pursued Douglas.

"Yes, I mean Miss Winton," replied Mickey. "I guess I don't risk her, or you either. I guess I go to the Nurse Lady. She's used to folks in trouble. She's trained to know what to do. Why sure! That's the thing!"

"Your back hurts, Mickey?" questioned Douglas.

"My back hurts? Aw forget my back!" cried Mickey roughly. "I ain't hurt, honest I ain't."

Douglas took a long penetrating look at the small shaking figure, then he said softly: "I wish you wanted to confide in me, Mickey! I can't tell you how glad I'd be if you'd trust me; but if you have some one else you like better, where is it you want to be driven?"

"_Course_ there ain't any one I _like_ better than you, 'cept----" he caught a name on the tip of his tongue and paused. "You see it's like this: I've been to this Nurse Lady before, and I know exactly what she'll say and think. If you don't think like I do, and if you go and take----"

"Gracious Heaven Mickey, you don't think I'd try to take anything you wanted, do you?" demanded Douglas.

"I don't know _what_ you'd do," said Mickey. "I only know what one Swell Dame I struck wanted to do."

"Mickey," said Douglas, "when I don't know what you are thinking about, I can't be of much help; but I'd give considerable if you felt that you had come to trust me."

"Trust you? Sure I trust you, about myself. But this is----" cried Mickey.

"This is about some one else?" asked Douglas casually.

Mickey leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his head bent with intense thinking.

"Much as you are doing for me," he muttered, "if you really care, if it makes a difference to you--of course I can _trust_ you, if you _don't_ think as I do!"

"You surely can!" cried Douglas Bruce. "Now Mickey, both of us are too shaken to care for the country; take me home with you and let's have supper together and become acquainted. We can't know each other on my ground alone. I must meet you on yours, and prove that I'm really your friend. Let's go where you live and have supper."

"Go where I live? You?" cried Mickey.

"Yes! You come from where you live fresh and clean each day, so can I.

Take me home with you. I want to go dreadfully, Mickey. Please?"

"Well, I ain't such a cad I'm afraid for you to see how I live," he said. "Though you wouldn't want to come more than once; that ain't what I was thinking about."

"Think all you like, Mickey," said Douglas. "Henry, drive to the end of the car line where you've gone before."

On the way he stopped at a grocery, then a cafe, and at each place piles of tempting packages were placed in the car. Mickey's brain was working fast. One big fact was beginning to lift above all the others.

His treasure was slipping from him, and for her safety it had to be so.

If he had been struck on the head, forced to undergo an operation, and had lain insensible for hours--Mickey could go no further with that thought. He had to stop and proceed with the other part of his problem.

Of course she was better off with him than where she had been; no sane person could dispute that; she was happy and looking improved each day but--could she be made happier and cared for still better by some one else, and cured without the long wait for him to earn the money? If she could, what would be the right name for him, if he kept her on what he could do? So they came at last as near as the car could go to Mickey's home in Sunrise Alley. At the foot of the last flight Mickey paused, package laden.

"Now I'll have to ask you to wait a minute," he said.

He ascended, unlocked the door and stepped inside. Peaches' eyes gleamed with interest at the packages, but she waved him back. As Mickey closed the door she cried: "My po'try piece! Say it, Mickey!"

"You'll have to wait again," said Mickey. "I got hit in the back with a box and it knocked the poetry out of me. You'll have to wait 'til after supper to-night, and then I'll fix the grandest one yet. Will that do?"

"Yes, if the box hit hard, Mickey," conceded Peaches.

"It hit so blame hard, Miss Chicken, that it knocked me down and knocked me out, and Mr. Bruce picked me up and carried me three blocks in his car before I got my wind or knew what ailed me."

Peaches' face was tragic; her hands stretched toward him. Mickey was young, and his brain was whirling so it whirled off the thought that came first.

"And if it had hit me _hard_ enough to bust my head, and I'd been carried to a hospital to be mended and wouldn't a-knowed what hurt me for days, like sometimes, who'd a-fed and bathed you, Miss?"

Peaches gazed at him wordless.

"You close your mouth and tell me, Miss," demanded Mickey, brutal with emotion. "If I hadn't come, what would you have done?"

Peaches shut her mouth and stared while it was closed. At last she ventured a solution.

"You'd a-told our Nurse Lady," she said.

Mickey made an impatient gesture.

"Hospitals by the dozen, kid," he said, "and not a chance in a hundred I'd been took to the 'Star of Hope,' and times when your head is busted, you don't know a thing for 'most a _week_. What would you _do_ if I didn't come for a week?"

"I'd have to slide off the bed if it killed me, and roll to the cupboard, and make the things do," said Peaches.

"You couldn't get up to it to save your life," said Mickey, "and there's never enough for a week, and you couldn't get to the water--what would you _do?_"

"Mickey, what would I do?" wavered Peaches.

"Well, I know, if you don't," said Mickey, "and I ain't going to tell you; but I'll tell you this much: you'd be scared and hurt worse than you ever was yet; and it's soon going to be too hot for you here, so I got to move you to a cooler place, and I don't risk being the only one knowing where you are another day; or my think-tank will split. It's about split now. I don't want to do it, Miss, but I got to, so you take your drink and lemme straighten you, and wash your face, and put your pretties on; then Mr. Douglas Bruce, that we work for now, is coming to see you and he's going to stay for supper--Now cut it out! Shut right up! Here, lemme fix you, and you see, Miss, that you act a _lady_ girl, and don't make me lose my job with my boss, or we can't pay our rent.

Hold still 'til I get your ribbon right, and slip a fresh nightie on you. There!"

"Mickey----" began Peaches.

"Shut up!" said Mickey in desperation. "Now mind this, Miss! You belong to _me!_ I'm taking care of you. You answer what he says to you pretty or you'll not get any supper this night, and look at them bundles he got. Sit up and be nice! This is a party!"

Mickey darted around arranging the room, then he flung the door wide and called: "Ready!"

Douglas Bruce climbed the stairs and entered the door. As Mickey expected, his gaze centred and stopped. Mickey began taking packages from his hands; still gazing Douglas yielded them. Then he stepped forward when Mickey placed the chair, and said: "Mr. Douglas Bruce, this is Lily. This is Lily Peaches O'Halloran. Will you have a chair?"

He turned to Peaches, putting his arm around her as he bent to kiss her.

"He's all right, Flowersy-girl," he said. "We _like_ to have him come.

He's our friend. Our big, nice friend who won't let a soul on earth get us. He doesn't even want us himself, 'cause he's got _one_ girl. His girl is the Moons.h.i.+ne Lady that sent you the doll. Maybe she will come some day too, and maybe she'll make the Precious Child a new dress."

Peaches clung to Mickey and past him peered at her visitor, and the visitor smiled his most winning smile. He recognized Leslie's ribbon, and noted the wondrous beauty of the small white face, now slowly flus.h.i.+ng the faintest pink with excitement. Still clinging she smiled back. Wordless, Douglas reached over to pick up the doll. Then the right thought came at last.

"Has the Precious Child been good to-day?" he asked.

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Michael O'Halloran Part 41 summary

You're reading Michael O'Halloran. This manga has been translated by Updating. Author(s): Gene Stratton Porter. Already has 559 views.

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