The angel of the wild beasts.
When Clare looked up he saw nothing between him and the sky. They had dragged the caravan from above him, and he had not moved. Abdiel indeed waked at the first pull, but had lain as still as a mouse--ready to rouse his master, but not an instant before it should be necessary.
Clare saw the sky, but he saw something else over him, better than the sky--the face of Mrs. Halliwell, the mistress of the menagerie. In it, as she stood looking down on him, was compassion, mingled with self-reproach.
Clare jumped up, saying, "Good morning, ma'am!" He was yet but half awake, and staggered with sleep.
"My poor boy!" answered the woman, "I sent you to sleep on the cold earth, with a sovereign of your own in my pocket! I made sure you would come and ask me for it! You
