"I would spend the time talking with you," he said to Mickey, "if I could accomplish anything; as I can't, I'll go on with my work. You busy yourself with anything around the rooms that interests you." Mickey grinned half abashed. He took a long survey of the room they were in, arose and standing in the door leading to the next he studied that. To him "busy" meant work. Presently he went into the hall and returned with a hand broom and dust pan he had secured from the janitor. He carefully went over the floor, removing anything he could see that he thought should not be there, and then began on the room adjoining. Next he appeared with a cloth and dusted the furniture and window seats. Once he met Douglas' eye and smiled. "Your janitor didn't have much of a mother," he commented. "I could beat him to his base a rod." "Job is yours any time you want it." "Morning papers," carrolled Mickey. "Sterilized, deodorized, vulcanized. I _like_ to sell them----" Defeated again Bruce turned to his work and Mickey to his. He straightened every rug, pulled a curtain, set a blind at an angle that gave the worker more light and better air. He was investigating the glass when the telephone rang. "Hello, Leslie! It certainly was! How did you do it? Not so hilarious as you might suppose. Leslie, I want to say something, not for the wire. Will you hold the line a second until I start Mickey with it? All right! "She is there now, Mickey. Can you find your way?" "Sure!" laughed Mickey. "If you put the address on. She started me from the street." "The address is plain. For straightening my rooms and carrying the note, will that be about right?" "A lady-bird! Gee!" cried Mickey. "I didn't s'pose you was a plute! And I don't s'pose so yet. You want a Little Brother bad if you're willing to _buy_ one. This number ain't far out, and I wouldn't have sold more than three papers this time of day--twenty-five is about right." "But you forget cleaning my rooms," said Douglas. Mickey grinned, his face flushed. "Me to you!" he said. "Nothing! Just a little matter of keeping in practice. Good-bye and be good to yourself!" Douglas turned to the telephone. "Leslie!" he said, "I'm sending Mickey back to you with a note, not because I had anything to say I couldn't say now, but because I can't manage him. I pretended I didn't care, and let him go. Can't you help me? See if you can't interest him in something that at least will bring him back, or show us where to find him. Certainly! Thank you very much!"