But Mickey almost proved that very thing by regaining his senses again, and immediately falling into spasms of long-drawn, shuddering sobbing. Douglas held him carefully, every moment becoming firmer in his conviction of one of two things: either he was hurt worse or he was----He would not let himself think it; but never did boy appear to less advantage. Douglas urged the driver to speed. Mickey heard and understood. "Never mind," he sobbed. "I'm all right Mr. Bruce; I ain't hurt. Not much! I'll be all right in a minute!" "If you're not hurt, what _is_ the matter with you?" "A minute!" gasped Mickey, as another spasm of sobbing caught him. "I am amazed!" cried Douglas. "A little jolt like that! You are acting like a coward, Mickey!" The word straightened Mickey. "Coward! Who? Me!" he cried. "Me that's made my way since I can remember? Coward, did you say?" "Of course not, Mickey!" cried Douglas. "Excuse me. I shouldn't have said that. But it is unlike you. What the devil _is_ the matter with you?" "I helped carry in a busted head and saw the glass table once," he cried. "Inch more and it would a-been my head--and I might have been knocked out for days. O Lord! What will I _do?_" "Mickey you're not afraid?" asked Douglas. "'Fraid? Me? 'Bout as good as coward!" "What is the matter with you?" demanded Douglas. Mickey stared at him amazedly. "O Lord!" he panted. "You don't s'pose I was thinking about _myself_, do you?" "I don't know what to think!" exclaimed Douglas. "Sure! How could you?" conceded Mickey. He choked back another big dry sob. "Gimme a minute to think!" he said. "O God! What have I been doing? I see now what I'm up against!" "Mickey," said Douglas Bruce, suddenly filled with compassion, "I am beginning to understand. Won't you tell me?" "I guess I got to," panted Mickey. "But I'm afraid! O Lord, I'm so afraid!" "Afraid of me, Mickey?" asked Douglas gently now. "Yes, afraid of you," said Mickey, "and afraid of her. Afraid of her, more than you." "You mean Miss Winton?" pursued Douglas. "Yes, I mean Miss Winton," replied Mickey. "I guess I don't risk her, or you either. I guess I go to the Nurse Lady. She's used to folks in trouble. She's trained to know what to do. Why sure! That's the thing!" "Your back hurts, Mickey?" questioned Douglas. "My back hurts? Aw forget my back!" cried Mickey roughly. "I ain't hurt, honest I ain't." Douglas took a long penetrating look at the small shaking figure, then he said softly: "I wish you wanted to confide in me, Mickey! I can't tell you how glad I'd be if you'd trust me; but if you have some one else you like better, where is it you want to be driven?" "_Course_ there ain't any one I _like_ better than you, 'cept----" he caught a name on the tip of his tongue and paused. "You see it's like this: I've been to this Nurse Lady before, and I know exactly what she'll say and think. If you don't think like I do, and if you go and take----"