“Sure I would,” triumphed Mrs. Comstock.  “Any one would like to have you.  You are just a real boy, Billy.”

“Will you take Snap?”

“I’d like to have Snap almost as well as you.”

“Mother!” breathed Elnora imploringly.  “Don’t!  Oh, don’t!  He thinks you mean it!”

“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 her mirth, and settle her face in its accustomed lines.

“Are their tails fast?” demanded Billy.

“Why, I think so,” marvelled Mrs. Comstock.

“Hers ain’t!” said Billy with the wave toward Margaret that was becoming familiar.  “Her turkey pulled, and its tail comed right off.  She’s going to whip me if he lets her.  I didn’t know the turkey would pull.  I didn’t know its tail would come off.  I won’t ever touch one again, will I?”

“Of course, you won’t,” said Mrs. Comstock.  “And what’s more, I don’t care if you do!  I’d rather have a fine little man like you than all the turkeys in the country.  Let them lose their old tails if they want to, and let the cats fight.  Cats and turkeys don’t compare with boys, who are going to be fine big men some of these days.”

Then Billy and Mrs. Comstock hugged each other rapturously, while their audience stared in silent amazement.

“You like boys!” exulted Billy, and his head dropped against Mrs. Comstock in unspeakable content.

“Yes, and if I don’t have to carry you the whole way home, we must start right now,” said Mrs. Comstock.  “You are going to be asleep before you know it.”

Billy opened his eyes and braced himself.  “I can walk,” he said proudly.

“All right, we must start.  Come, Elnora!  Good-night, folks!” Mrs. Comstock set Billy on the floor, and arose gripping his hand.  “You take the other side, Elnora, and we will help him as much as we can,” she said.