"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