_S.O.S._


Mickey, his responsibility weighing upon him, slept lightly and awakened
early, his first thought of Peaches. He slipped into his clothing and
advancing peered at her through the grayness. His heart beat wildly.

"Aw you poor kid! You poor little kid!" he whispered to himself as he had
fallen into the habit of doing for company. "The scaring, the jolting, the
scouring, and everything were too much for you. You've gone sure! You're
just like them at the morgue. Aw Peaches! I didn't mean to hurt you,
Peaches! I was _trying_ to be good to you. Honest I was, Peaches! Aw----!"

As his fright increased Mickey raised his voice until his last wail
reached the consciousness of the sleeping child. She stirred slightly, her
head moving on the pillow. Mickey almost fell, so great was his relief. He
stepped closer, gazing in awe. The sheared hair had dried in the night,
tumbling into a hundred golden ringlets. The tiny clean face was white, so
white that the blue of the closed eyes showed darkly through the lids, the
blue veins streaked the temples and the little claws lying relaxed on the
sheet. Mickey slowly broke up inside. A big, hard lump grew in his throat.
He shut his lips tight and bored the tears from his eyes with his wiry
fists. He began to mutter his thoughts to regain self-control.

"Gee kid, but you had me scared to the limit!" he said. "I thought you
were gone, sure. Honest I did! Ain't I glad though! But you're the whitest
thing! You're like----I'll tell you what you're like. You're like the lily
flowers in the store windows at Easter. You're white like them, and your
hair is the little bit of gold decorating them. If I'd known it was like
that I wouldn't a-cut it if I'd spent a month untangling it. Honest I