Soon he was up again. “Wisht I had Snap,” he said. “Oh, I ist wisht I had Snap!”
“I thought you laid a board on Snap and jumped on it,” said Wesley.
“We did!” cried Billy—“oh, you ought to heard him squeal!” Billy laughed loudly, then his face clouded.
“But I want Snap to lay beside me so bad now—that if he was here I'd give him a piece of my chicken, 'for, I ate any. Do you like dogs?”
“Yes, I do,” said Wesley.
Billy was up instantly. “Would you like Snap?”
“I am sure I would,” said Wesley.
“Would she?” Billy indicated Margaret. And then he answered his own question. “But of course, she wouldn't, cos she likes cats, and dogs chases cats. Oh, dear, I thought for a minute maybe Snap could come here.” Billy lay down and closed his eyes resolutely.
Suddenly they flew open. “Does it hurt to be dead?” he demanded.
“Nothing hurts you after you are dead, Billy,” said Wesley.
“Yes, but I mean does it hurt getting to be dead?”
“Sometimes it does. It did not hurt your father, Billy. It came softly while he was asleep.”
“It ist came softly?”
“Yes.”
“I kind o' wisht he wasn't dead!” said Billy. “'Course I like to stay with you, and the fried chicken, and the nice soft bed, and—and everything, and I like to be clean, but he took us to the show, and he got us gum, and he never hurt us when he wasn't drunk.”
Billy drew a deep breath, and tightly closed his eyes. But very soon they opened. Then he sat up. He looked at Wesley pitifully, and then he glanced at Margaret. “You don't like boys, do you?” he questioned.
“I like good boys,” said Margaret.
Billy was at her knee instantly. “Well say, I'm a good boy!” he announced joyously.
“I do not think boys who hurt helpless kittens and pull out turkeys' tails are good boys.”
“Yes, but I didn't hurt the kittens,” explained Billy. “They got mad 'bout ist a little fun and scratched each other. I didn't s'pose they'd act like that. And I didn't pull the turkey's tail. I ist held on to the first thing I grabbed, and the turkey pulled. Honest, it was the turkey pulled.” He turned to Wesley. “You tell her! Didn't the turkey pull? I didn't know its tail was loose, did I?”
“I don't think you did, Billy,” said Wesley.
Billy stared into Margaret's cold face. “Sometimes at night, Belle sits on the floor, and I lay my head in her lap. I could pull up a chair and lay my head in your lap. Like this, I mean.” Billy pulled up a chair, climbed on it and laid his head on Margaret's lap. Then he shut his eyes again. Margaret could have looked little more repulsed if he had been a snake. Billy was soon up.
“My, but your lap is hard,” he said. “And you are a good deal fatter 'an Belle, too!” He slid from the chair and came back to the middle of the room.
“Oh but I wisht he wasn't dead!” he cried. The flood broke and Billy screamed in desperation.
Out of the night a soft, warm young figure flashed through the door and with a swoop caught him in her arms. She dropped into a chair, nestled him closely, drooped her fragrant brown head over his little bullet-eyed red one, and rocked softly while she crooned over him—
“Billy, boy, where have you been?
Oh, I have been to seek a wife,
She's the joy of my life,
But then she's a young thing and she can't leave her mammy!”
Billy clung to her frantically. Elnora wiped his eyes, kissed his face, swayed and sang.
“Why aren't you asleep?” she asked at last.
“I don't know,” said Billy. “I tried. I tried awful hard cos I thought he wanted me to, but it ist wouldn't come. Please tell her I tried.” He appealed to Margaret.
“He did try to go to sleep,” admitted Margaret.
“Maybe he can't sleep in his clothes,” suggested Elnora. “Haven't you an old dressing sacque? I could roll the sleeves.”
Margaret got an old sacque, and Elnora put it on Billy. Then she brought a basin of water and bathed his face and head. She gathered him up and began to rock again.
“Have you got a pa?” asked Billy.
“No,” said Elnora.
“Is he dead like mine?”
“Yes.”
“Did it hurt him to die?”
“I don't know.”
Billy was wide awake again. “It didn't hurt my pa,” he boasted; “he ist died while he was asleep. He didn't even know it was coming.”
“I am glad of that,” said Elnora, pressing the small head against her breast again.
Billy escaped her hand and sat up. “I guess I won't go to sleep,” he said. “It might 'come softly' and get me.”
“It won't get you, Billy,” said Elnora, rocking and singing between sentences. “It doesn't get little boys. It just takes big people who are sick.”
“Was my pa sick?”
“Yes,” said Elnora. “He had a dreadful sickness inside him that burned, and made him drink things. That was why he would forget his little boys and girl. If he had been well, he would have gotten you good things to eat, clean clothes, and had the most fun with you.”
Billy leaned against her and closed his eyes, and Elnora rocked hopefully.
“If I was dead would you cry?” he was up again.
“Yes, I would,” said Elnora, gripping him closer until Billy almost squealed with the embrace.
“Do you love me tight as that?” he questioned blissfully.
“Yes, bushels and bushels,” said Elnora. “Better than any little boy in the whole world.”
Billy looked at Margaret. “She don't!” he said. “She'd be glad if it would get me 'softly,' right now. She don't want me here 't all.”
Elnora smothered his face against her breast and rocked.
“You love me, don't you?”
“I will, if you will go to sleep.”
“Every single day you will give me your dinner for the bologna, won't you,” said Billy.
“Yes, I will,” replied Elnora. “But you will have as good lunch as I do after this. You will have milk, eggs, chicken, all kinds of good things, little pies, and cakes, maybe.”
Billy shook his head. “I am going back home soon as it is light,” he said, “she don't want me. She thinks I'm a bad boy. She's going to whip me—if he lets her. She said so. I heard her. Oh, I wish he hadn't died! I want to go home.” Billy shrieked again.
Mrs. Comstock had started to walk slowly to meet Elnora. The girl had been so late that her mother reached the Sinton gate and followed the path until the picture inside became visible. Elnora had told her about Wesley taking Billy home. Mrs. Comstock had some curiosity to see how Margaret bore the unexpected addition to her family. Billy's voice, raised with excitement, was plainly audible. She could see Elnora holding him, and hear his excited wail. Wesley's face was drawn and haggard, and Margaret's set and defiant. A very imp of perversity entered the breast of Mrs. Comstock.
“Hoity, toity!” she said as she suddenly appeared