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There
were emergencies he did not know how to manage. He must have help. Mickey
revolved the problem in his worried head without reaching a solution. His
necessity drove him. He darted, dodged and took chances. Far down the
street he selected his victim and studied his method of assault as he
approached; for Mickey did victimize people that day. He sold them papers
when they did not want them. He bettered that and sold them papers when
they had them. He snatched up lost papers, smoothed and sold them over.
Every gay picture or broken toy dropped from an automobile he caught up
and pocketed for her.
A woman stumbled alighting from a passing car. Mickey dropped his papers
and sprang forward. Her weight bore him to the pavement, but he kept her
from falling, and even as he felt her on her feet, he snatched under the
wheels for her purse.
"Is that all your stuff, lady?" he asked.
"Thank you! I think so," she said. "Wait a minute!"
To lend help was an hourly occurrence with Mickey. _She_ had been most
particular to teach him that.


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