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.
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