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There's one
that put different legs on a dog. I read about it in the papers I sold.
We'll save our money and get him to put another back on you. Just a bully
back."
"Oh Mickey, will you?" she cried.
"Sure!" said Mickey. "Now you sit up and I'll wash you like Mammy always
did me."
Peaches obeyed. Mickey soaped a cloth, knelt beside her; then he paused.
"Say Peaches, when was your hair combed last?"
"I don't know, Mickey," she answered.
"There's more dirt in it than there is on your face."
"If you got shears, just cut it off," she suggested.
"Sure!" said Mickey.
He produced shears and lifting string after string cut all of them the
same distance from her head.
"Girls' shouldn't be short, like boys'," he explained. "Now hang your head
over the edge of the tub and shut your eyes so I can wash it," he ordered.
Mickey soaped and scoured until the last tangle was gone, then rinsed and
partly dried the hair, which felt soft and fine to his fingers.
"B'lieve it's going to curl," he said.


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