Margaret, watching, began to cry. Wesley had gone mad. For the first time in her married life she wanted to tell her mother. When Wesley had waited until he was so hungry he could wait no longer he invaded the kitchen to find a cooked supper baking on the back of the stove, while Margaret with red eyes nursed a pair of demoralized white kittens.
“Is supper ready?” he asked.
“It has been for an hour,” answered Margaret.
“Why didn't you call us?”
That “us” had too much comradeship in it. It irritated Margaret.
“I supposed it would take you even longer than this to fix things decent again. As for my turkey, and my poor little kittens, they don't matter.”
“I am mighty sorry about them, Margaret, you know that. Billy is very bright, and he will soon learn——”
“Soon learn!” cried Margaret. “Wesley Sinton, you don't mean to say that you think of keeping that creature here for some time?”
“No, I think of keeping a well-behaved little boy.”
Margaret set the supper on the table. Seeing the old red cloth Wesley stared in amazement. Then he understood. Billy capered around in delight.
“Ain't that pretty?” he exulted. “I wish Jimmy and Belle could see. We, why we ist eat out of our hands or off a old dry goods box, and when we fix up a lot, we have newspaper. We ain't ever had a nice red cloth like this.”
Wesley looked straight at Margaret, so intently that she turned away, her face flushing. He stacked the dictionary and the geography of the world on a chair, and lifted Billy beside him. He heaped a plate generously, cut the food, put a fork into Billy's little fist, and made him eat slowly and properly. Billy did his best. Occasionally greed overcame him, and he used his left hand to pop a bite into his mouth with his fingers. These lapses Wesley patiently overlooked, and went on with his general instructions. Luckily Billy did not spill anything on his clothing or the cloth. After supper Wesley took him to the barn while he finished the night work. Then he went and sat beside Margaret on the front porch. Billy appropriated the hammock, and swung by pulling a rope tied around a tree. The very energy with which he went at the work of swinging himself appealed to Wesley.
“Mercy, but he's an active little body,” he said. “There isn't a lazy bone in him. See how he works to pay for his fun.”
“There goes his foot through it!” cried Margaret. “Wesley, he shall not ruin my hammock.”
“Of course he shan't!” said Wesley. “Wait, Billy, let me show you.”
Thereupon he explained to Billy that ladies wearing beautiful white dresses sat in hammocks, so little boys must not put their dusty feet in them. Billy immediately sat, and allowed his feet to swing.
“Margaret,” said Wesley after a long silence on the porch, “isn't it true that if Billy had been a half-starved sore cat, dog, or animal of any sort, that you would have pitied, and helped care for it, and been glad to see me get any pleasure out of it I could?”
“Yes,” said Margaret coldly.
“But because I brought a child with an immortal soul, there is no welcome.”
“That isn't a child, it's an animal.”
“You just said you would have welcomed an animal.”
“Not a wild one. I meant a tame beast.”
“Billy is not a beast!” said Wesley hotly. “He is a very dear little boy. Margaret, you've always done the church-going and Bible reading for this family. How do you reconcile that 'Suffer little children to come unto Me' with the way you are treating Billy?”
Margaret arose. “I haven't treated that child. I have only let him alone. I can barely hold myself. He needs the hide tanned about off him!”
“If you'd cared to look at his body, you'd know that you couldn't find a place to strike without cutting into a raw spot,” said Wesley. “Besides, Billy has not done a thing for which a child should be punished. He is only full of life, no training, and with a boy's love of mischief. He did abuse your kittens, but an hour before I saw him risk his life to save one from being run over. He minds what you tell him, and doesn't do anything he is told not to. He thinks of his brother and sister right away when anything pleases him. He took that stinging medicine with the grit of a bulldog. He is just a bully little chap, and I love him.”
“Oh good heavens!” cried Margaret, going into the house as she spoke.
Sinton sat still. At last Billy tired of the swing, came to him and leaned his slight body against the big knee.
“Am I going to sleep here?” he asked.
“Sure you are!” said Sinton.
Billy swung his feet as he laid across Wesley's knee. “Come on,” said Wesley, “I must clean you up for bed.”
“You have to be just awful clean here,” announced Billy. “I like to be clean, you feel so good, after the hurt is over.”
Sinton registered that remark, and worked with especial tenderness as he redressed the ailing places and washed the dust from Billy's feet and hands.
“Where can he sleep?” he asked Margaret.
“I'm sure I don't know,” she answered.
“Oh, I can sleep ist any place,” said Billy. “On the floor or anywhere. Home, I sleep on pa's coat on a store-box, and Jimmy and Belle they sleep on the storebox, too. I sleep between them, so's I don't roll off and crack my head. Ain't you got a storebox and a old coat?”
Wesley arose and opened a folding lounge. Then he brought an armload of clean horse blankets from a closet.
“These don't look like the nice white bed a little boy should have, Billy,” he said, “but we'll make them do. This will beat a storebox all hollow.”
Billy took a long leap for the lounge. When he found it bounced, he proceeded to bounce, until he was tired. By that time the blankets had to be refolded. Wesley had Billy take one end and help, while both of them seemed to enjoy the job. Then Billy lay down and curled up in his clothes like a small dog. But sleep would not come.
Finally he sat up. He stared around restlessly. Then he arose, went to Wesley, and leaned against his knee. He picked up the boy and folded his arms around him. Billy sighed in rapturous content.
“That bed feels so lost like,” he said. “Jimmy always jabbed me on one side, and Belle on the other, and so I knew I was there. Do you know where they are?”
“They are with kind people who gave them a fine supper, a clean bed, and will always take good care of them.”
“I wisht I was—” Billy hesitated and looked earnestly at Wesley. “I mean I wish they was here.”
“You are about all I can manage, Billy,” said Wesley.
Billy sat up. “Can't she manage anything?” he asked, waving toward Margaret.
“Indeed, yes,” said Wesley. “She has managed me for twenty years.”
“My, but she made you nice!” said Billy. “I just love you. I wisht she'd take Jimmy and Belle and make them nice as you.”
“She isn't strong enough to do that, Billy. They will grow into a good boy and girl where they are.”
Billy slid from Wesley's arms and walked toward Margaret until he reached the middle of the room. Then he stopped, and at last sat on the floor. Finally he lay down and closed his eyes. “This feels more like my bed; if only Jimmy and Belle was here to crowd up a little, so it wasn't so alone like.”
“Won't I do, Billy?”