"And so I do mean it," said Mrs. Comstock. "I'll take him in a jiffy. I
throw away enough to feed a little tyke like him every day. His chatter
would be great company while you are gone. Blood soon can be purified
with right food and baths, and as for Snap, I meant to buy a bulldog,
but possibly Snap will serve just as well. All I ask of a dog is to bark
at the right time. I'll do the rest. Would you like to come and be my
boy, Billy?"

Billy leaned against Mrs. Comstock, reached his arms around her neck and
gripped her with all his puny might. "You can whip me all you want to,"
he said. "I won't make a sound."

Mrs. Comstock held him closely and her hard face was softening; of that
there could be no doubt.

"Now, why would any one whip a nice little boy like you?" she asked
wonderingly.

"She"--Billy from his refuge waved toward Margaret--"she was going to
whip me 'cause her cats fought, when I tied their tails together and
hung them over the line to dry. How did I know her old cats would
fight?"

Mrs. Comstock began to laugh suddenly, and try as she would she could
not stop so soon as she desired. Billy studied her.

"Have you got turkeys?" he demanded.

"Yes, flocks of them," said Mrs. Comstock, vainly struggling to suppress