There is the picture of the animal--there is the word that
spells its name. Now what is it?"
"Milk!" answered Peaches, her eyes mischievous.
Mickey held over the book chuckling.
"All right! There is the word for that, too. For being so smart, Miss
Chicken, you can learn it 'fore you get any more to drink. If I have good
luck to-day, I'm going to blow in about six o'clock with a slate and
pencil for you; and then you can print the words you learn, and make
pictures. That'll help make the day go a lot faster."
"Oh it goes fast enough now," said Peaches. "I love days with you and the
window and the birds. I wish they'd sing more though."
"When your back gets well, I'll take you to the country where they sing
all the time," promised Mickey, "where there are grass, and trees, and
flowers, and water to wade in and----"
"Mickey, stop and go on!" cried Peaches. "Sooner you start, the sooner
I'll get my next verse. I want just norful good one to-night."
She held up her arms. Mickey submitted to a hug and a little cold dab on
his forehead, counted his money, locked the door and ran.
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