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I want him to show me----"
"Don't you hurry your folks, Junior," said Mickey, "I'll show you all
right!"
"Well it's about time I was seeing something."
"Sure it is," agreed Mickey. "Come on with me here, and I'll show you what
real boys are!"
"Say father, I'm coming you know," cried Junior. "I'm tired poking in the
country. Just look what being in the city has made of Mickey."
"Yes, just look!" cried Mickey, waving both hands and bracing on feet wide
apart. "Do look! Your age or more, and about _half_ your beefsteak and
bone."
"But you got muscle. I bet I couldn't throw you!"
"I bet you couldn't either," retorted Mickey, "'cause I survived
Multiopolis by being Johnny _not_ on the spot! I've dodged for my life and
my living since I can remember. I'm champeen on that. But you come on with
me, and I'll get you a job and let you try yourself."
"I'm coming," said Junior. Then remembering he was not independent he
turned to his mother. "Can't I take a job and work here?"
Mrs. Harding braced herself and succumbed to habit.


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