"Go on!"
"Well I began her work so she started right away, and before she got back
in comes Peter. When he asks where she was and why she went, I was afraid,
but for her sake I told him. I told him everything I had noticed. At first
he didn't like it."
"It's a wonder he didn't break your neck."
"Well," said Mickey judicially, "as I size Peter up he'd fight an awful
fight if he was fighting, but he ain't much on _starting_ a fight. I
worked the separator steady, and by and by when I 'summed up the
argument,' as a friend of mine says, I guess that cream separator didn't
look any bigger to Peter, set beside a full house and two or three sheds
for the stuff he'd brought to make _his_ work easier, than it did to me."
"I'll wager it didn't," laughed Douglas.
"No it didn't!" cried Mickey earnestly. "And when he stood over it awhile,
that big iron stove made his kitchen, where his wife lived most of her
day, seem 'bout as hot as my room where he was raving over Lily having
been; and when he faced the brown oilcloth and the old iron skillets for a
few minutes of silent thought, he bolted at about two.
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