"Well, don't you fret about that," said Mickey. "They got away with me this time, but they won't ever again, 'cause I'll be on to their tricks. See? Now say you forgive me, and eat your dinner, 'cause it will be spoiled, and you must have a good rest, for there's going to be something lovely afterward. You ain't mad at me any more, Lily?" "No, I ain't mad at you, but I'm just so----" "Wope! wope!" cautioned Mickey. Peaches pulled away indignantly. "--so--so--so _estremely mad_ at those paper men! Mickey, I don't think I'll ever let you be a _Herald_ man at all if they're going to leave me out like that!" "What do you care about an old paper sold on the streets, and ground up for buckets, and used to start fires, anyway?" scoffed Mickey. "Why don't you sit up on the shelf in a nice pretty silk dress and be a book lady? I wouldn't be in the papers at all, if I were you." "No, an' I won't, either!" cried Peaches instantly. "Take the old paper an' put what you please in it. I shall have all about _me_ in the nice silky covered book on the shelf; so there, you needn't try to make me do anything else, 'cause I shan't ever!" "Course you shan't!" agreed Mickey. He went back to the dinner table to find the family finished and gone. He carried what had been left for him to the back porch, and eating hastily began helping to get things in place. As always he went to Mrs. Harding for orders. She was a little woman, so very like his mother in size, colouring, speech, and manner, that Mickey could almost forget she was not truly his, when every hour she made him feel her motherly kindness; so from early habit it was natural with him to seek her first, and do what he could to assist her before he attempted anything else. All the help Peter had from him came when he found no more to do for Mrs. Harding. As he washed the dishes while she sat sewing for the renovation of the house, he said to her: "When you dress Lily for this afternoon I wish you'd make her just as pretty as you can, and put her very nicest dress on her." "Why Mickey, is some one coming?" she asked. "I don't know," said Mickey, "but I have a hunch that my boss, and Miss Leslie, and her father may be out this afternoon. They have been talking about it a long time, but I kept making every excuse I could think up to keep them away." "Why, Mickey?" asked Mrs. Harding, looking at him intently. She paused in her sewing, running the needle slowly across the curtain material.