Junior, passing, remembered he had promised Jud Jason to bring a bundle he
had left there, and stopped for it. He stepped into the small front door
and bent for the package lying in sight, when clearly and distinctly arose
Mickey's voice lifted to reach Peter, at another task.
"Course I meant him to get enough to make him good and sick of it, like we
agreed on; but I never intended him to get any such a dose as he had."
Junior straightened swiftly, and his lower jaw dropped. His father's reply
was equally audible.
"Of course I understand _that_, Mickey."
"Surest thing you know!" said Mickey. "I like Junior. I like him better
than any other boy I ever knew, and I've known hundreds. I tell you Peter,
he was gamer than you'll ever believe to hang on as long as he did."
"Yes I think that too," said Peter.
"You know he didn't come because he was all in," explained Mickey. "You
can take a lot of pride in that. He'd about been the limit when he quit.
And he quit, not because he was robbed and knocked out, but because what
he had seen showed him that Multiopolis wasn't the job he wanted for a
life sentence.
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