dear, I thought for a minute maybe Snap could come here." Billy lay down and closed his eyes resolutely.
Suddenly they flew open. "Does it hurt to be dead?" he demanded.
"Nothing hurts you after you are dead, Billy," said Sinton.
"Yes, but I mean does it hurt getting to be dead?"
"Sometimes it does. It did not hurt your father, Billy. It came softly while he was asleep."
"It ist came softly?"
"Yes."
"I kind o' wisht he wasn't dead!" said Billy. "'Course I like to stay with you, and the fried chicken, and the nice soft bed, and—and everything, and I like to be clean, but he took us to the show, and he got us gum, and he never hurt us when he wasn't drunk."
Billy drew a deep breath, and tightly closed his eyes. But very soon they opened. Then he sat up. He looked at Sinton pitifully, and then he glanced at Margaret. "You don't like boys, do you?" he questioned
"I like good boys," said Margaret.
Billy was at her knee instantly. "Well, say, I'm a good boy!" he announced joyously.
"I do not think boys who hurt helpless kittens and pull out turkeys' tails are good boys."
"Yes, but I didn't hurt the kittens," explained Billy. "They got mad 'bout ist a little fun and scratched each other. I didn't s'pose they'd act like that. And I didn't pull the turkey's tail. I ist held on to the first
