And there were
the wings, too, all white and shining, but Mrs. Dempsey had neglected to
mention that angels' wings grew out of their heads. Somehow, Peter had
supposed their wings grew from their shoulders; he was sure Mrs. Dempsey
had said so. He would like to send her a message and tell her how
mistaken she had been. He wondered if he could.
He felt a gentle hand slip beneath his shoulders and raise him a little
and the angel commenced to feed him with something warm and sweet upon a
spoon. It tasted better than anything he had ever eaten before.
Suddenly he thought of baby. What had happened to her? Was she in heaven
too? He tried to ask the angel, but found he could not utter a word; he
was too weak and tired. The kind eyes watching him interpreted rightly
the anxious look that crossed his face; they were well accustomed to
divining the unspoken troubles of worried little minds. The angel spoke
and to Peter the voice sounded like heavenly music:
"You must not try to talk, dear. Just finish this gruel like a good boy
and then go to sleep again. Your baby sister is quite safe, and is
sleeping sweetly in her crib over in the little one's dormitory. You
shall see her in the morning if you are good now and do as I tell you."
As he finished the gruel his eyes closed wearily for a moment, and when
he opened them again there were two angels leaning over him.
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