"I surely would," said the nurse. "It will do her good. It will give her hope. Dr. Carrel isn't the only one who can perform miracles; if he _doesn't_ come by the time Lily is strong enough to bear the strain of being operated, we can try some other great man; and if she is shy, and timid from having been alone so much, expecting it will make it easier for her. By the way, wait until I bring some little gifts, I and three of my friends have made for her in our spare time. I think your mother's night dresses must be big and uncomfortable for her, even as you cut them off. Try these. Give her a fresh one each day. It is going to be dreadfully hot soon. When she has used two, bring them here and I'll have them washed for you." "Now nix on that!" said Mickey. "You're a shining angel bright to sew them for her, I'm crazy over them, but I wash them. Mother showed me. That will be _my_ share. I can do it fine. And they _will_ be better! She's so lost in mother's, I have to shake them to find her!" They laughed together, then Mickey sped to the sidewalk and ordered the car back. "I've been too long," he said. "Nurse Lady had some things to tell me about a little sick girl and I was glad to miss my ride for them. Mr. Bruce will be ready by now. You go where he told you." "I got twenty-seven minutes yet," said the driver. "I can take you at least almost there. Hop in." "Mither o' Mike!" cried Mickey. "Is _that_ all there is to it? Gee, how I'd like to have a try at it." "Are you going to be in Mr. Bruce's office from now on?" asked the driver. "If I can sell my paper line," answered Mickey. "Got a good route?" inquired the man. "Best of any boy in my district," said Mickey. "I _like_ to sell papers. I got it down fine!" "I guess you have," said the driver. "I know your voice, and everybody on your street knows that cry. Your route ought to be worth a fair price. I got a kid that wants a paper start. What would you ask to take him over your round and tell the men you are turning your business over to him, and teach him your cries?" "Hum-m-m-m!" said Mickey. "My cry is whatever has the biggest headlines on the front page, mixed in with a lot of joyous fooling, and I'd have to see your boy 'fore I'd say if I could teach him. Is he a clean kid with a joyous face, and his anatomy decorated with a fine large hump? That's the only kind that gets my job. I won't have my nice men made sore all day 'cause they start it by seeing a kid with a boiled-owl face." "You think a happy face sells most papers?" "Know it!" said Mickey, "'cause I wear it on the job, and I get away with the rest of them three times and coming. Same everywhere as with the papers. A happy face would work with your job, if you'd loosen up a link or two, and tackle it. It may crack your complexion, if you start too violent, but taking it by easy runs and greasing the ways 'fore you cut your cable, I believe you'd survive it!"