"And if you wasn't 'a poor crippled kid,' you wouldn't say swearin's to me," said Mickey, "'cause you know I'd lick the stuffin' out of you, and if you could see yourself, you'd know that you need stuffin' in, more than you need it out. I'm 'mazed at you! Forget that you ever heard such stuff, and be a nice lady, won't you? My time's getting short and I got to go, or the other kids will sell to my paper men, then we'll have no supper. Now you say, 'Mickey, please get my breakfast,' like a lady, or you won't get a bite." "'Mickey, please get my breakfast,'" she imitated. Mickey advanced threateningly with the pillow. "Won't do!" he said. "That ain't like no lady! That's like _me_. You'll say it like _yourself_, or you won't get it." She closed her lips, burying her face in her own pillow. "All right," said Mickey. "Then I'll get my own. If you don't want any, I'll have twice as much." He laid the pillow on the foot of the bed, saying politely: "'Scuse me, Lily, till I get _me_ a bottle of milk." Soon he returned and with his first glimpse of the bed stood aghast. It was empty. His eyes searched the room. His pallet on the floor outlined a tiny form. A dismayed half smile flashed over his face. He took a step toward her, and then turned, getting out a cloth he had not used since being alone. Near the bed he set the table and laid a plate, knife, fork and spoon. Because he was watching Peaches he soon discovered she was peeking out at him, so he paid strict attention to the burner he was lighting. Then he sliced bread, put on a toaster, set the milk on the table, broke an egg in a saucer, and turned the toast. Soon the odours filled the room, also a pitiful sound. Mickey knew Peaches must have hurt herself sliding from the bed, although her arms were strong for the remainder of her body. She had no way to reach his pallet but to roll across the floor. She might have bruised herself badly. He was amazed, disgusted, yet compassionate. He went to her and turned back the comfort. "You must be speaking a little louder, Lily," he said gently. "I wasn't quite hearing you." Only muffled sobbing. Mickey dropped the cover. "I want my breakfast," said a very small voice. "You mean, 'Mickey, please _get_ my breakfast,' Flowersy-girl," he corrected gently. "Oh I hurt myself so!" Peaches wailed. "Oh Mickey, I fell an' broke my back clear in two. 'Tain't like rollin' off my rags; oh Mickey, it's so _far_ to the floor, from your bed! Oh Mickey, even another girl's back, or yours, or a dog's, or anybody's wouldn't fix it now. It'll hurt for days. Mickey, why did I ever? Oh what made me? Mickey-lovest, please, please put me back on the nice fine bed, an' do please give me some of that bread."