"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."
Billy looked at Margaret. "She don't!" he said. "She'd be glad if it would get me 'softly,' right now. She don't want me here 't all."
Elnora smothered his face against her breast and rocked.
"You love me, don't you?"
"I will, if you will go to sleep."
"Every single day you will give me your dinner for the bologna, won't you," said Billy.
"Yes, I will," replied Elnora. "But you will have as good lunch as I do after this. You will have milk, eggs, chicken, all kinds of good things, little pies, and cakes, maybe."
Billy shook his head. "I am going back home soon as it is light," he said; "she don't want me. She thinks I'm a bad boy. She's going to whip me—if he lets her.
