Wesley went to the barn to put away the tools.  He thought Billy was at his heels, but the boy lagged on the way.  A big snowy turkey gobbler resented the small intruder in his especial preserves, and with spread tail and dragging wings came toward him threateningly.  If that turkey gobbler had known the sort of things with which Billy was accustomed to holding his own, he never would have issued the challenge.  Billy accepted instantly.  He danced around with stiff arms at his sides and imitated the gobbler.  Then came his opportunity, and he jumped on the big turkey’s back.  Wesley heard Margaret’s scream in time to see the flying leap and admire its dexterity.  The turkey tucked its tail and scampered.  Billy slid from its back and as he fell he clutched wildly, caught the folded tail, and instinctively clung to it.  The turkey gave one scream and relaxed its muscles.  Then it fled in disfigured defeat to the haystack.  Billy scrambled to his feet holding the tail, while his eyes were bulging.

“Why, the blasted old thing came off!” he said to Wesley, holding out the tail in amazed wonder.

The man, caught suddenly, forgot everything and roared.  Seeing which, Billy thought a turkey tail of no account and flung that one high above him shouting in wild childish laughter, when the feathers scattered and fell.

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.”