Mickey took both the small bony hands reaching for him. He was so frightened with their hot, tremulous clutch, that he tried to pull away, dragging the tiny figure half to light and bringing from it moans of pain. "Oh my back! Oh you're hurting me! Oh don't leave me! Oh boy, oh _dear_ boy, please don't leave me!" When she said "Oh dear boy," Mickey heard the voice of his mother in an hourly phrase. He crept closer, enduring the touch of the grimy claws. "My name's Mickey," he said. "What's your?" "Peaches," she answered. "Peaches, when I'm good. Crippled brat, when I'm bad." "B'lieve if you had your chance you could look the peaches," said Mickey, "but what were you bad for?" "So's she'd hit me," answered Peaches. "But if me just pulling a little hurt you so, what happened when she hit you?" asked Mickey. "Like knives stuck into me," said Peaches. "Then what did you be bad for?" marvelled Mickey. "Didn't you ever get so tired of one thing you'd take something that hurt, jus' for a change?" "My eye!" said Mickey. "I don't know one fellow who'd do that, Peaches." "Mickey, hide me. Oh hide me! Don't let them '_get_' me!" she begged. "Why kid, you're crazy," said Mickey. "Now lemme tell you. Where they'll take you _looks_ like a nice place. Honest it does. I've seen lots of them. You get a clean soft bed all by yourself, three big hot meals a day, things to read, and to play with. Honest Peaches, you do! I wouldn't tell you if it wasn't so. If I'll stay with you 'til they come, then go with you to the place 'til you see how nice it is, will you be good and go?" She burrowed in the covers, screeching again. "You're scared past all reason," said Mickey. "You don't know anything. But maybe the Orphings' Homes ain't so good as they look. If they are, why was mother frightened silly about them getting _me?_ Always she said she just _had_ to live until I got so big they wouldn't 'get' me. And I kept them from getting me by doing what she told me. Wonder if I could keep them from getting you? There's nothing of you. If I could move you there, I bet I could feed you more than your granny did, while I know I could keep you cleaner. You could have my bed, a window to look from, and clean covers." Mickey was thinking aloud. "Having you to come home to would be lots nicer than nothing. You'd beat a dog all hollow, 'cause you can talk. If I could get you there, I believe I could be making it. Yes, I believe I could do a lot better than this, and I believe I'd like you, Peaches, you are such a game little kid." "She could lift me with one hand," she panted. "Oh Mickey, take me! Hurry!" "Lemme see if I can manage you," said Mickey. "Have you got to be took any particular way?" "Mickey, ain't you got folks that beat you?" she asked. "I ain't got folks now," said Mickey, "and they didn't beat me when I had them. I'm all for myself--and if you say so, I guess from now on, I'm for you. Want to go?"