She was a very pretty child with brown curly hair and large blue eyes in a little pointed face.
Angela was standing in front of the fireplace and she stopped in front of her to ask,
“You really are an angel and you have wings?”
“Yes, I have wings,” Angela answered.
She turned round so that the child could see them and she touched them very gently with her fingers and exclaimed,
“They are made of feathers!”
“Of course they are,” Angela said, “and I expect real angels have feathers just like these, taken from the swans that fly through the clouds to reach Heaven.”
“I have seen swans flying,” Lady Mary said. “Is that where they go?”
“I think all birds when they fly up into the sky are looking for Heaven,” Angela said. “I used to watch the swans when I was a little girl and, when they
