They had not "got" him; they must not "get" his Lily; yet stirrings in Mickey's brain told him he was not going to be sufficient, alone. There were emergencies he did not know how to manage. He must have help. Mickey revolved the problem in his worried head without reaching a solution. His necessity drove him. He darted, dodged and took chances. Far down the street he selected his victim and studied his method of assault as he approached; for Mickey did victimize people that day. He sold them papers when they did not want them. He bettered that and sold them papers when they had them. He snatched up lost papers, smoothed and sold them over. Every gay picture or broken toy dropped from an automobile he caught up and pocketed for her. A woman stumbled alighting from a passing car. Mickey dropped his papers and sprang forward. Her weight bore him to the pavement, but he kept her from falling, and even as he felt her on her feet, he snatched under the wheels for her purse. "Is that all your stuff, lady?" he asked. "Thank you! I think so," she said. "Wait a minute!" To lend help was an hourly occurrence with Mickey. _She_ had been most particular to teach him that. He was gathering up and smoothing his papers several of which were soiled. The woman opened the purse he had rescued, taking therefrom a bill which she offered him. "Thanks!" said Mickey. "My shoulder is worth considerable to me; but nothing like that to you, lady!" "Well!" she said. "Are you refusing the money?" "Sure!" said Mickey. "I ain't a beggar! Just a balance on my shoulder and picking up your purse ain't worth an endowment. I'll take five cents each for three soiled papers, if you say so." "You amazing boy!" said the woman. "Don't you understand that if you hadn't offered your shoulder, I might now be lying senseless? You saved me a hard fall, while my dress would have been ruined. You step over here a minute. What's your name?" "Michael O'Halloran," was the answer. "Where do you live?" "Sunrise Alley. It's miles on the cars, then some more walking," explained Mickey. "Whom do you live with?" "Myself," said Mickey. "Alone?" "All but Peaches," said Mickey. "Lily Peaches." "Who is Lily Peaches?" "She's about so long"--Mickey showed how long--"and about so wide"--he showed how wide--"and white like Easter church flowers. Her back's bad. I'm her governor; she's my child." "If you won't take the money for yourself, then take it for her," offered the woman. "If you have a little sick girl to support, you surely can use it." "Umm!" said Mickey. "You kind of ball a fellow up and hang him on the ropes. Honest you do, lady! I can take care of myself. I know I can, 'cause I've done it three years, but I don't know how I'm goin' to make it with Lily, for she needs a lot. She may get sick any day, so I ain't sure how I'm going to manage well with her." "How long have you taken care of her?" "Since last night," explained Mickey.