He didn't think
kindly of himself at that moment.
"Why, Mickey!" Miss Putnam looked up at him in amazement as he
came around to the back porch where she was sweeping a rug.
"What's the matter, child, don't you feel well?"
"I feel all right," he said briefly. "Say, Miss Putnam, you know
that tar that was on your porch? I threw it!"
"You--you what?" gasped Miss Putnam. "You threw that hot tar all
over my clean porch and walk? Why, Mickey!"
"Yes'm," muttered Mickey miserably.
"But why?" insisted Miss Putnam. "And Mrs. Graham told me that the
Morrison boy and girl did it."
"Guess she thought she saw 'em--it was most dark," said Mickey.
"But it wasn't Roddy and Betty. I did it, and Nina, my little
sister, helped me."
"But why?" persisted Miss Putnam. "I never should have thought it
of you, Mickey, never."
Strange as it may seem, Miss Putnam really liked Mickey. He was so
willing and so cheerful and so quick that the old lady who had had
to do all the work of her small home so long that she had
forgotten how it felt to have younger hands helping her, began to
look forward to Mickey's coming every day.
And Mickey liked Miss Putnam. He found she was very fair about
time and reasonable about the amount of work she expected him to
accomplish.
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