heaven is higher than the sky; and
Heaven is just."

"I suppose it is so," said the man, a little cowed by her. "Everybody
says so. I think so, at bottom, myself; but I can't see it. I want to
see it, but I can't!" cried he, fiercely. "Have my children offended
Heaven? They will starve--they will die! If I was Heaven, I'd be just,
and send an angel to take these children's part. They cried to me for
bread--I had no bread; so I gave them hard words. The moment I had done
that I knew it was all over. God knows it took a long while to break my
heart; but it is broken at last; quite, quite broken! broken! broken!"

And the poor thing laid his head upon the table, and sobbed, beyond all
power of restraint. The children cried round him, scarce knowing why;
and Mrs. Triplet could only say, "My poor husband!" and prayed and wept
upon the couch where she lay.

It was at this juncture that a lady, who had knocked gently and unheard,
opened the door, and with a light step entered the apartment; but no
sooner had she caught sight of Triplet's anguish, than, saying hastily,
"Stay, I forgot something," she made as hasty an exit.

This gave Triplet a moment to recover himself; and Mrs. Woffington,
whose lynx eye had comprehended all at a glance, and who had determined
at once what line to take, came flying in again, saying:

"Wasn't somebody inquiring for an angel? Here I am. See, Mr. Triplet;"
and she showed him a note, which said: "Madam, you are an angel. From a
perfect stranger," explained she; "so it must be true."

"Mrs. Woffington," said Mr. Triplet to his wife. Mrs. Woffington planted
herself in the middle of the floor, and with a comical glance, setting
her arms akimbo, uttered a shrill whistle.

"Now you will see another angel--there are two sorts of them."

Pompey came in with a basket; she took it from him.

"Lucifer, avaunt!" cried she, in a terrible tone, that drove him to the
wall; "and wait outside the door," added she, conversationally.

"I heard you were ill, ma'am, and I have brought you some physic--black
draughts from Burgundy;" and she smiled. And, recovered from their
first surprise, young and old began to thaw beneath that witching,
irresistible smile. "Mrs. Triplet, I have come to give your husband a
sitting; will you allow me to eat my little luncheon with you? I am so
hungry." Then she clapped her hands, and in ran Pompey. She sent him
for a pie she professed to have fallen in love with at the corn