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“What happened to you, Billy?” she asked when he entered the kitchen. “For a second I was frightened when I went to wake you and found you gone.” “Billy! My—boy!” Mrs. Bennett bent over him; and he felt a tear where her cheek touched his. “And I’m always going to be your little girl, too,” the child pleaded; “so Billy must be my papa’s little boy.” ‘The antlered monarch of the waste.