le one will p'raps fall down the cobbler's chimney into
his work-room."

The Seraph was enchanted. "Then the cobbler'll sew him wight up in the sole
of a shoe, an' the boy who wears the shoe will twinkle when he wuns, won't
he? Oh, it's coming now! I hear it. I'm afwaid."

"That's not the Dawn," said Angel, "that's the night flying away."

It was true that there came to us then a rushing sound, as of strong wings;
our hair was lifted from our hot foreheads; and the casement rattled on its
hinges.

This wind, that came from the wings of night, was sharp with the fragrance
of heather and the sea. One fancied how it would surge through the dim
aisles of cathedral-like forests, ruffling the plumage of drowsy birds,
stirring the surface of some dark pool, where the trout still slept, and
making sibilant music among the drooping reeds.

The sky had now become delicately luminous, and a streak of saffron showed
above the farthest roofs; a flock of little clouds huddled together above
this, like timorous sheep at graze. The white star hung just above the
cobbler's chimney, dangerously near, it seemed to us, who watched.

There were only two of us at the window now, for Angel had stolen away to
explore every corner of the new environment, as was his custom. I could
hear the soft opening and shutting of bureau drawers, and once, a grunting
and straining, as of one engaged in severe manual labour.

A low whistle drew me to his side.

"What's up?" I demanded.

"Got this little old trunk open at last," he muttered, "full of women's
junk. Funny stuff. Look."

Our heads touched as we bent curiously over the contents. It was a dingy
and insignificant box on the outside, but it was lined with a gaily
coloured paper, on which nosegays of spring flowers bent beneath the weight
of silver butterflies, and sad-eyed cockatoos. The trays were full, as
Angel had said, of women's things; delicate, ruffly frocks of pink and
lilac; and undergarments edged with yellowing lace. A sweet scent rose from
them, as of some gentle presence that strove to reach the light and air
once more. A pair of little white kid slippers looked as though they longed
to twinkle in and out beneath a soft silk skirt. Angel's mischievous brown
hands dived among the light folds, discovering opera glasses,--(treasures
to be secured if possible, against some future South Sea expedition), an
inlaid box of old-fashioned trinkets, a coral necklace, gold-tasselled
earr