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"Thank you ma'am," he said as he handed it back, turning to the path.
Yesterday had weakened his nerve. He was going to cry again. He took a
quick step forward, but the woman was beside him, her hand on his
shoulder.
"Wait a minute," she said. "Sit on this bench under the pear tree. I want
to ask you something. Excuse me and rest until I come back."
Mickey leaned against the tree, shutting his eyes, fighting with all his
might. He was too big to cry. The woman would think him a coward as Mr.
Bruce had. Then things happened as they actually do at times. The woman
hurriedly came from the door, sat on the bench beside him, and said: "I
went in there to watch you through the window, but I can't stand this a
second longer. You poor child you, now tell me right straight what's the
matter!"
Mickey tried but no sound came. The woman patted his shoulder. "Now
doesn't it beat the band?" she said, to the backyard in general. "Just a
little fellow not in long trousers yet, and bearing such a burden he can't
talk.


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