"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."