The nickel changed hands. Mickey put the cheese and egg in his pocket, the milk in the basket, then started. The place where they delivered the wash made Mickey feel almost prosperous. He picked up his milk bottle and stepped from the door, when a long, low wail that made him shudder, reached his ear. "What's that?" he asked the woman. "A stiff was carried past to-day. Mebby they ain't took the kids yet." Mickey went slowly down the stairs, his face sober. That was what his mother had feared for him. That was why she had trained him to care for himself, to save the pennies, so that when she was taken away, he still would have a home. Sounded like a child! He was halfway up the long flight of stairs before he realized that he was going. He found the door at last, then, stood listening. He heard long-drawn, heart-breaking moaning. Presently he knocked. A child's shriek was the answer. Mickey straightway opened the door. The voice guided him to a heap of misery in a corner. "What's the matter kid?" inquired Mickey huskily. The bundle stirred, while a cry issued. He glanced around the room. What he saw reassured him. He laid hold of the tatters, beginning to uncover what was under them. He dropped his hands, stepping back, when a tangled yellow mop and a weazened, bloated girl-child face peered at him, with wildly frightened eyes. "If you'd put the wind you're wastin' into words, we'd get something done quicker," advised Mickey. The tiny creature clutched the filthy covers, still staring. "Did you come to '_get_' me?" she quavered. "No," said Mickey. "I heard you from below so I came to see what hurt you. Ain't you got folks?" She shook her head: "They took granny in a box and they said they'd come right back and '_get_' me. Oh, please, please don't let them!" "Why they'd be good to you," said Mickey largely. "They'd give you"--he glanced at all the things the room lacked, then enumerated--"a clean bed, lots to eat, a window you could be seeing from, a doll, maybe." "No! No!" she cried. "Granny always said some day she'd go and leave me; then they'd '_get_' me. She's gone! The big man said they'd come right back. Oh don't let them! Oh hide me quick!" "Well--well--! If you're so afraid, why don't you cut and hide yourself then?" he asked. "My back's bad. I can't walk," the child answered. "Oh Lord!" said Mickey. "When did you get hurt?" "It's always been bad. I ain't ever walked," she said. "Well!" breathed Mickey, aghast. "And knowing she'd have to leave you some day, your granny went and scared you stiff about the Home folks taking you, when it's the only place for you to be going? Talk about women having the sense to vote!" "I won't go! I won't! I'll scratch them! I'll bite them!" Then in swift change: "Oh boy, don't. Please, please don't let them '_get_' me."