"Billy!" wailed Margaret. "How could you?"
"It was for him and you," sobbed Billy. "He said he couldn't eat it 'fore me, but out in the barn it's all dark and I couldn't see. I thought maybe he could there. Then we might put out the light and you could have yours. He said I only made it worse, 'cos I mustn't take things, and I know I mustn't, so I got to go in the closet."
Margaret gazed at him helplessly.
"Will you hold me tight a little bit first? He did."
Margaret opened her arms and Billy rushed in and clung to her a few seconds with all the force of his being, then he slipped to the floor and marched to the closet. Margaret opened the door. Billy gave one glance at the light, clinched his fists and, walking inside, climbed on a box. Margaret shut her eyes and closed the door.
Then she sat and listened. Was the air pure enough? Possibly he might smother. She had read something once. Was it very dark? What if there should be a mouse in the closet and it should run across his foot and frighten him into spasms. Somewhere she had heardMargaret leaned forward with tense face and listened. Something dreadful might happen. She could bear it no longer. She arose hurriedly and opened the door. Billy was drawn up on the box in a little heap, and he lifted a disapproving face to her.
"Shut that door!" he said. "I ain't been in here near long enough yet!"
