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"Wife of those kings we were just talking about."
"Sure!" said Peaches. "None of them have a nicer name than that! Mickey,
is my bow straight?"
"Naw it ain't!" said Mickey. "Take the baby 'til I fix it! It's about
slipped off! There! That's better."
"Mickey, let me see it!" suggested Peaches.
Mickey brought the mirror. She looked so long he grew tired and started to
put it back, but she clung to it.
"Just lay it on the bed," she said.
"Naw I don't, Miss Chicken--O'Halloran!" he said. "Mirrors cost money, and
if you pull the sheet in the night, and slide ours off, and it breaks, we
got seven years of bad luck coming, and we are nix on changing the luck we
have right now. It's good enough for us. Think of them Belgium kids where
the kings are making the fathers fight. This goes where it belongs, then
you take your drink, and let me beat your pillow, and you fix your baby,
and then we'll say our prayers, and go to sleep."
Mickey replaced the mirror and carried out the program he had outlined.


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