er that his wings would scarcely flutter. After
he had lost sight of earth, he had to wind his way between the burning
stars; they were so close together in places that his feathers were
scorched. But he pressed on valiantly till he made out the quiet shining
of the gates of Heaven and entered through the unguarded walls of jasper
into a garden, which was in no way different from the one that God had
planted upon earth.

Beneath scented trees the angels were scattered about disconsolately.
There were black rims under their eyes; it was easy to see they had been
worrying. Their beautiful white gowns had come unstarched; it was many
days since they had tidied themselves. There wasn't a sound of any
sort--least of all of music. Some of them still carried their harps; but
most of them had stacked them in open spaces the way soldiers stack
their rifles. When the robin sank spent to the grass in front of them,
they paid him scant attention. When he weakly chirped his question,
"Where's God?" they jerked their thumbs, indicating the direction, too
listless to waste breath on words.

"What's the matter?" asked the robin.

"We're unhappy." After they had said it, they had difficulty to choke
back their sobs.

"But why are you unhappy? Whoever heard of being unhappy in Heaven!"

"Because--because----." They glanced at one another forlornly, hoping
that someone else would be the first to answer. "Because of the
forbidden fruit. It's made God cross."

"Pshaw!" The robin swelled out his little breast with importance. "You'd
better visit earth and see our baby. If the Woman hadn't eaten the
forbidden fruit, there wouldn't be any baby."

The word "baby" was entirely new to them. They sat up beneath their
scented trees and began to ask questions. But the robin didn't want to
be delayed; he spread his wings and fluttered on.

At last he came to the smoothest of smooth lawns, in the midst of which
grew a mulberry-tree, beneath whose shadow God was seated with the
Virgin Mary. Despite the flakes of sunlight falling and the gold-blue
peace by which They were surrounded. Their attitudes were no less
despondent than the angels'. God sat with His elbows digging into His
knees. His face was buried in His delicate hands. His eyes, peering
through His fingers, were strained and red with always staring
broodingly straight before Him. Of the Virgin Mary, crouching at His
feet, the robin could only see the glint of her flaxen hair and the