Formalities were over. Mickey laughed as he entered the car and straightway began an investigation of its machinery. Now any boy is proud to teach another something he wants to know and does not, so by the time the car was thoroughly explained any listener would have thought them acquaintances from birth. "Hurry!" cried Junior when his parents came. "I want to get home with Mickey. I want him to show me----" "Don't you hurry your folks, Junior," said Mickey, "I'll show you all right!" "Well it's about time I was seeing something." "Sure it is," agreed Mickey. "Come on with me here, and I'll show you what real boys are!" "Say father, I'm coming you know," cried Junior. "I'm tired poking in the country. Just look what being in the city has made of Mickey." "Yes, just look!" cried Mickey, waving both hands and bracing on feet wide apart. "Do look! Your age or more, and about _half_ your beefsteak and bone." "But you got muscle. I bet I couldn't throw you!" "I bet you couldn't either," retorted Mickey, "'cause I survived Multiopolis by being Johnny _not_ on the spot! I've dodged for my life and my living since I can remember. I'm champeen on that. But you come on with me, and I'll get you a job and let you try yourself." "I'm coming," said Junior. Then remembering he was not independent he turned to his mother. "Can't I take a job and work here?" Mrs. Harding braced herself and succumbed to habit. "That will be as your father says." Junior turned toward his father, doubt in his eye, to receive a shock. There was not a trace of surprise or disapproval on the face of Peter. "Now maybe that would be the best way in the world for you to help me out," he said. "You see me through planting and harvest and then I'll arrange to spare you, and you can see how you like it till fall. But you are too young to give up school and I don't agree to interrupting your education." Mrs. Harding entered the car. "Now Mickey," she said as she distributed parcels, "you sit up there with Peter and show him the way, and we will go see if we want to undertake the care of your little girl for a week." "Drop the anchor, furl the sail, right here," directed Mickey when they reached Sunrise Alley. "You know I told you dearest lady, about how scared my little girl is, having seen so few folks and not expecting you; so I'll have to ask you to wait a few minutes 'til I go up and get her used to your being here and then I'll have to sort of work her up to you one at a time. I 'spect you can't hardly believe that there's anything in all the world so small, and so white, that's lived to have the brains she has, and yet hasn't seen the streets of this city but for a short ride on a street-car twice in her life, and hasn't talked to half a dozen people. She may take you for a bear, Peter; you will be quiet and easy, won't you?" "Why Mickey," said Peter, "why of course, son!"