"Douglas, when may Mickey show
me what he wants me to do?"
"Right now," he answered. "I got a load of books while he was away
yesterday and I haven't started them yet. Now is the best time."
When Mickey made a leap from the trolley platform that night, at what he
already had named Cold Cream Junction, he was almost buried under boxes.
He stepped high and prideful, for he had collected the money from his
paper route and immediately spent some of it under Leslie Winton's
supervision.
Pillow bolstered, on the front porch, on his comfort lay the tiny girl he
loved. Mickey stopped and made a detailed inspection. Peaches leaned
forward and reached toward him; her greeting was indescribably sweet.
Mickey dropped the bundles and went into her arms; even in his joy he
noted a new strength in her grip on him, an unusual clinging. He drew back
half alarmed.
"You been a good girl?" he queried suspiciously.
"Jus' as good!" asserted Peaches.
"You didn't go and say any----?"
"Not ever Mickey-lovest! Not one!" she cried.
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