e didn't yike live birds, either. He
poisoned one and it died. Then he undertook a walk (this was a favourite
expression of Mrs. Handsomebody's) and all the other birds pounced on him
and tore him piecemeal."

Mrs. Handsomebody, with a ferocious gleam in her eye, leaned forward to
catch the rest. The Seraph's voice was low and insinuating.

"I was finking"--with a chuckle--"that you might poison one of the nicest
of the stuffed birds. Then you might get in the glass case wiv the others.
We could lock the door on the outside and watch through the glass."

"And I expect you think they would tear _me_ piecemeal? Is that the idea?"

"Oh, I don't know," chuckled The Seraph. "But suppose you twy it."

_Chapter X: The New Day_

I

I think we must have felt that he was coming, for we awoke at dawn that
morning. I could barely see the silvery bars between the slats of the
shutters. The Seraph was stirring in his sleep, and in a moment he
whispered: "I say, John, what's that long black thing behind the door?"

"Just some clothes hung up," I whispered back.

"I fought they moved," he said. "Do you fink the wardrobe door moved,
John?"

"Everything seems a little queer this morning," I replied. "I heard a
whispering sort of noise at the shutters a bit ago."

Angel began to talk in his sleep.

"If three suns were to rise at six," he muttered, "how many stars would it
take to make a moon?"

The Seraph began to laugh delightedly. He kicked his legs and showed all
his little white teeth. Angel opened his eyes and stared at us crossly.
"What a beastly row," he said. "I want to sleep some more."

The silver bars between the slats of the shutters took a golden tinge.
Clearly it was to be a fine day, after a week of rain and sleet.

The chimes of the Cathedral sounded. The notes came with penetrating
sweetness as though the air were cold and clear. We heard the door of Mary
Ellen's room open; she descended the back stairs noisily.

The Seraph turned a somersault in the middle of the bed.

"Cwistmas is coming," he said, trying to stand on his head, "and I want a
pony."

We threw ourselves into a general scuffle, and the old-four-poster creaked
and the bolster fell to the floor.

Then up the cavernous backstairs came the peal of the front door bell. We
heard Mary Ellen drop the poker and run through the house. It was an
unheard of hour for the front door bell to ring. We sat up in bed in
stiffened attitudes of e