"Which is a street car?" queried the nurse.
"Sure!" said Mickey.
"Well go hop it!" she laughed. "I can't spare more time now, but I won't forget, Mickey; and if he comes I'll keep him till you get here, if I have to chain him."
"You go to it!" cried Mickey. "And I'll begin praying that he comes soon, and I'll just pray and pray so long and so hard, the Lord will send him quick to get rid of being asked so constant. No I won't either! Well wouldn't that rattle your slats?"
"What, Mickey?" asked the nurse.
"Why don't you see?" cried Mickey.
"No, I don't see," admitted the girl.
"Well I do!" said Mickey. "What would be square about that? Why that would be asking the Lord to make maybe some other little girl so sick, the Carrel man would be sent for, so I'd get my chance for Lily. That ain't business! I wouldn't have the cheek! What would the Lord think of me? He wouldn't come in a mile of doing it. I wouldn't come in ten miles of having the nerve to ask him. I do get up against it 'til my head swims. And there is winter coming, too!"
The nurse put her arm around Mickey again, and gently propelled him toward the elevator.
"Mickey," she said softly, her lips nipping his fair hair, "God doesn't give many of us your clear vision and your big heart. I'd have asked him that, with never a thought of who would have to be ill to bring Dr. Carrel here. But I'll tell you. You can pray this with a clean conscience: you can ask God if the doctor does come, to put it into his heart to hear you, and to examine Lily. That wouldn't be asking ill for anyone else so that you might profit by it. And dear laddie, don't worry about winter. This city is still taking care of its taxpayers. You do your best for Lily all summer, and when winter comes, if you're not fixed for it, I will see what your share is and you can have it in a stove that will burn warm a whole day, and lots of coal, plenty of it. I know I can arrange that."