"_I can wash, sir, I can spin, sir, I can sew and mend, and babies tend._" "Oh you 'Bringer of Song!'" exulted Douglas. "I'd rather hear you sing that than any bird, but from what she said, Nellie Minturn won't care particularly for it!" "She may not approve of, or practise, the sentiment," said Leslie, "but she'll love the music and possibly the musician." CHAPTER V _Little Brother_ "Now what am I going to do yet to make the day shorter, Lily?" asked Mickey. "I guess I got everything," she answered. "There's my lunch. Here's my pictures to cut. Here's my lesson to learn. There's my sky and bird crumbs. Mickey, sometimes they hop right in on the sheet. Yest'day one tried to get my lunch. Ain't they sassy?" "Yes," said Mickey. "They fight worse than rich folks. I don't know why the Almighty pays attention if they fall." "Mebby nobody else cares," said Peaches, "and He feels obliged to 'cause He made 'em." "Gee! You say the funniest things, kid," laughed Mickey as he digested the idea. "Wonder if He cares for us 'cause He made us." "Mebby he didn't make us," suggested Peaches. "Well we got one consoling thing," said Mickey. "If He made any of them, He made us, and if He didn't make us, He didn't none of them, 'cause everybody comes in and goes out the same way; She said so." "Then of course it's so," agreed Peaches. "That gives us as good a chance as anybody." "Course it does if we got sense to take it," said Mickey. "We got to wake up and make something of ourselves. Let me see if you know your lesson for to-day yet. There is the picture of the animal--there is the word that spells its name. Now what is it?" "Milk!" answered Peaches, her eyes mischievous. Mickey held over the book chuckling. "All right! There is the word for that, too. For being so smart, Miss Chicken, you can learn it 'fore you get any more to drink. If I have good luck to-day, I'm going to blow in about six o'clock with a slate and pencil for you; and then you can print the words you learn, and make pictures. That'll help make the day go a lot faster." "Oh it goes fast enough now," said Peaches. "I love days with you and the window and the birds. I wish they'd sing more though." "When your back gets well, I'll take you to the country where they sing all the time," promised Mickey, "where there are grass, and trees, and flowers, and water to wade in and----" "Mickey, stop and go on!" cried Peaches. "Sooner you start, the sooner I'll get my next verse. I want just norful good one to-night." She held up her arms. Mickey submitted to a hug and a little cold dab on his forehead, counted his money, locked the door and ran. On the car he sat in deep thought, then suddenly sniggered aloud. He had achieved the next installment of the doggerel to which every night Peaches insisted on having a new verse added as he entered. He secured his papers, and glimpsing the headlines started on his beat crying them lustily.