married you can come and live with us." I blushed furiously.
"And who might Jane be?" demanded Mary Ellen, suspiciously.
"She's the Bishop's great-niece," I explained proudly. "I love her terribly, Mary Ellen. It hurts in here." I pressed my hand on my stomach.
"Well, well." She shook her head commiseratingly. "I'm sorry fer ye, Masther John—sthartin' off like this at your age. Here's the spoon I stirred the cake wid—have a lick o' that. It'll mebbe help ye."
I licked pensively at the big wooden spoon, and felt strangely soothed. My admiration for Mary Ellen increased.
As I slowly climbed the stairs for bed, visions of Jane hovered in the darkness above me—airy rainbows, with Jane's laughing face peering between the bars of pink and gold. I had never known a little girl before, and Jane embodied all things frail and exquisite.
When I entered our room Angel was sitting on the side of the bed, pulling his shirt over his head. The Seraph already slept in his place next the wall.
I stood before Angel with folded arms.
"Hm," he muttered crossly, "you've been lickin'
[64]
