"Enough to make your head swim," said Mickey.
"Out with it!" ordered Peter.
"Well," said Mickey gravely, and seemingly intent on the separator, but covertly watching Peter, "well, if you'd a-cut that window she's wanted for fifteen years, right over her table there where the line comes, she would a-been seeing that particular bit of glory—you notice Peter, that probably there's nothing niftier on earth than just the little spot she's been pining for; look good yourself, and you'll see, there she's just climbing the hill to the apple tree—look at it carefully, and then step inside and focus on what she's faced instead."
"What else does she want?" inquired Peter.
"She didn't mention anything but to watch sunup, just once, under that apple tree," said Mickey. "I don't know what she wants; but from one day here, I could tell you things she should have."
"Well go ahead and tell," said Peter.
"Will you agree not to break my neck 'til I get this cream in the can, and what she keeps strained, and these buckets washed?" asked Mickey. "I want to have her job all done when she gets back, 'cause I promised her, and that's quite a hike she's taking."
"Well I was 'riled' for a minute, but I might as well hold myself," said Peter. "Looks like you were right."
"Strangers coming in can always see things that folks on the job can't," consoled Mickey.
"Well go on and tell me what you've seen here Mickey!"