"Now nix on the scare talk," he comforted. "Forget it! I've lived here three years alone, and not a single time has anybody come to 'get' me, so they won't you. There's only one thing can happen us. If I get sick or spend too much on eating, and don't pay the rent, the man that owns this building will fire us out. If we, _if we_" Mickey repeated impressively, "pay our rent regular, in advance, nobody will _ever_ come, not _ever_, so don't worry." "Then what's all them bundles?" fretted Peaches. "You ortn't a-got so much. You'll never get the _next_ rent paid! They'll 'get' me sure." "Now throttle your engine," advised Mickey. "Stop your car! Smash down on the brakes! They are things the city you reside in furnishes its taxpayers, or something like that. I pay my rent, so this is my _share_, and it's things for you: to make you comfortable. Which are you worst--tiredest, or hungriest, or hottest?" "I don't know," she said. "Then I'll make a clean get-a-way," said Mickey. "Washing is cooling; and it freshens you up a lot." So Mickey brought his basin again, bathing the tired child gently as any woman could have done it. "See what I got!" he cried as he opened bundles and explained. "I'm going to see if you have fever." Peaches rebelled at the thermometer. "Now come on in," urged Mickey. "Slide straight home to your base! If I'm going to take care of you, I'm going to right. You can't lay here eating wrong things if you have _fever_. No-sir-ee! You don't get to see in any more of these bundles, nor any supper, nor talked to any more, 'til you put this little glass thing under your tongue and hold it there just this way"--Mickey showed how--"three minutes by the clock, then I'll know what to do with you next. I'll sit beside you, and hold your hands, and tell you about the pretty lady that sent it." Mickey wiped the thermometer on the sheet, then presented it. Peaches took one long look at him and opened her lips. Mickey inserted the tube, set the clock in sight, and taking both her hands he held them closely and talked as fast as he could to keep her from using them. He had not half finished the day when the time was up. If he had done it right, Peaches had very little, if any, fever. "Now turn over so I can rub your back to make it all nice and rested," he said. "And then I'll get supper." "I don't want my back rubbed," she protested. "My back's all right now." "Nothing to do with going to have it rubbed," said Mickey. "It would be a silly girl who would have a back that wouldn't walk, and then wouldn't even try having it doctored, so that it would get better. Just try Lily, and if it doesn't _help_, I won't do it any more." Peaches took another long look at Mickey, questioning in nature, then turned her back to him. "Gosh, kid! Your back looks just like horses' going to the fertilizer plant," he said. "Ain't that swearin's?" asked Peaches promptly.