res," I answered, "in beautiful, long
dresses, and with big, white wings." "Feathers?" she asked.

"I suppose so,--and long dresses, all white and beautiful."

"Are they girlies?"

"Girls? Ye--es."

"Don't boys go into the Himmel?"

"Yes, of course, if they're good."

"And then what do _they_ wear?" "Why, the same as all the other angels,
I suppose."

"Dwesses?"

She began to laugh, looking at me sideways as though she suspected me of
making jokes. "What a funny Mummy!" she said, evidently much amused. She
has a fat little laugh that is very infectious.

"I think," said I, gravely, "you had better go and play with the other
babies."

She did not answer, and sat still a moment watching the clouds. I began
writing again.

"Mummy," she said presently.

"Well?"

"Where do the angels get their dwesses?"

I hesitated. "From lieber Gott," I said.

"Are there shops in the Himmel?"

"Shops? No."

"But, then, where does lieber Gott buy their dwesses?"

"Now run away like a good baby; I'm busy."

"But you said yesterday, when I asked about lieber Gott, that you would
tell about Him on Sunday, and it is Sunday. Tell me a story about Him."

There was nothing for it but resignation, so I put down my pencil with a
sigh. "Call the others, then."

She ran away, and presently they all three emerged from the bushes one
after the other, and tried all together to scramble on to my knee. The
April baby got the knee as she always seems to get everything, and the
other two had to sit on the grass.

I began about Adam and Eve, with an eye to future parsonic probings. The
April baby's eyes opened wider and wider, and her face grew redder
and redder. I was surprised at the breathless interest she took in
the story--the other two were tearing up tufts of grass and hardly
listening. I had scarcely got to the angels with the flaming swords and
announced that that was all, when she burst out, "Now I'll tell about
it. Once upon a time there was Adam and Eva, and they had plenty of
clothes, and there was no snake, and lieber Gott wasn't angry with them,
and they could eat as many apples as they liked, and was happy for ever
and ever--there now!"

She began to jump up and down defiantly on my knee.

"But that's not the story," I said rather helplessly. "Yes, yes! It's a
much nicelier one! Now another."

"But these stories are true," I said severely; "and it's no use my
telling them if you make them up your own way afte