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Stratton-Porter, Gene, 1863-1924

"Michael O'Halloran"

"Bad
ones, and I feel an awful one as can be coming right now, and coming
quick. Are you going to promise me nobody who hasn't a _family_, carries
you, and rubs you?"
Peaches looked at him in steady wonderment.
"I guess you're pretty tired, an' you need to sleep a while, or somepin,"
she said. "If you wasn't about sick yourself, you'd know 'at anybody 'cept
you 'ull get their dam-gone heads ripped off if they touches me, nelse
_you_ say so. _Course_, you found me! _Course_, they'd a-got me, if you
hadn't took me. _Course_, I'm yours! _Course_, it's nix on Junior, an'
it's _nix_ on Peter if you say so. Mickey, I jus' love you an' love you.
I'll go back now if you say so, I tell you. Mickey _what's_ the matter?"
She stretched up her arms, and Mickey sank into them. He buried his face
beside hers and for the first time she patted him, and whispered to him as
she did to her doll. She rubbed her cheek against his, crooned over him,
and held him tight while he gulped down big sobs.
"Mickey, tell me," she begged, like a little mother.


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