ist love you for everythin', washin', an' breakfast, an' the bed, an'
winder, an' off the floor; oh I just love you _sick_ for the winder, an'
off the floor. You going to be"--she paused in a deep study to think of a
word anywhere nearly adequate, then ended in a burst that was her best
emanation--"lovest! Mickey-lovest!"

She hugged him closely, then lifted her chin and pursed her lips. Mickey
pulled back, a dull colour in his face.

"Now nix on the mushing!" he said. "I'll stand for a hug once a day, but
nix on the smear!"

"You'd let a dog," she whimpered. "I ain't kissed nothin' since granny
sold the doll a lady gave me the time we went to the doctor's, an' took
the money to get drunk on, an' beat me more'n I needed for a change,
'cause I cried for it. I think you might!"

"Aw well, go on then, if you're going to bawl," said Mickey, "but put it
there!"

He stepped as far back as he could, leaned over, and swept the hair from
his forehead, which he brought in range of her lips. He had to brace
himself to keep from flinching at their cold touch and straightened in
relief.

"Now that's over!" he said briskly. "I'll wash you, and get your
breakfast."

"You do a lot of washin', don't you?" inquired Peaches.