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"
Mickey backed away, swallowing a big lump in his throat, and blinking down
angry tears.
"'Smorning," he said, "I asked God to help me, and for a minute I was so
glad, 'cause I thought He'd helped by sending _you_, so you could tell me
how to do; but if God can't beat _you_, I can get along by myself."
"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.


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