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Mickey
gripped the basket until his hands were stiff as he sped homeward at least
two hours early and happy about it. At the last grocery he remembered
every word and bought bread, milk, and fruit with care "for a sick lady"
he explained, so the grocer, who knew him, used care. Triumphing Mickey
climbed the stairs. He paused a second in deep thought at the foot of the
last flight, then ascended whistling to let Peaches know that he was
coming, then on his threshold recited:
"_One't a little kid named Lily,
Was so sweet she'd knock you silly,
Yellow hair in millying curls,
Beat a mile all other girls._"
She was on his bed; she was on his pillow; she had been lonely; both arms
were stretched toward him.
"Mickey, hurry!" she cried. "Mickey, lemme hold you 'til I'm sure! Mickey,
all day I didn't hardly durst breathe, fear the door'd open an' they'd
'_get_' me. Oh Mickey, you won't let them, will you?"
Mickey dropped his bundles and ran to the bed. This time he did not shrink
from her wavering clasp.


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