But Mrs. Harding came from an environment where to have "good red berries," spicy smoked ham, fat chickens and golden loaves constituted a first test of efficiency. To have her red berries appreciated did not offend her. If Peaches had said "the sweetest, biggest red berries in Noble Country," the woman would have been delighted, because that was her private opinion, but she was not so certain that corroboration was unpleasant. She advanced, gazing at the child unconsciously gasping the stifling air. She took one hurried glance at the room in its scrupulous bareness, with waves of heat pouring in the open window, and bent over Peaches.
"Won't you come out of this awful heat quickly, and let us carry you away to a cool, shady place? Dear little girl, don't you want to come?" she questioned.
"Is Mickey coming too?" asked Peaches.
"Of course Mickey is coming too!" said the lady.
"Will he hold me?"
"He will if you want him to," said Mrs. Harding, "but Peter is so much bigger, it wouldn't tire him a mite."
Mickey shifted on his feet and gazed at Peaches; as her eyes sought his, the message he telegraphed her was so plain that she caught it right.
"Mickey is just awful strong," she said. "I'll go if he'll hold me. But
I want to see Peter! I like Peter!"
"Why you darling!" cried the nice lady.
"And I like Junior, that Mickey told me about, and your nice little girl that I mustn't ever say no sw——"