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Stratton-Porter, Gene, 1863-1924

"Freckles"


"Doesn't it look pretty?" she whispered.
"Do you suppose Heaven is any finer than that?" asked Freckles.
The Angel began to laugh.
"Do you want to be laughing harder than that?" queried Freckles.
"A laugh is always good," said the Angel. "A little more avoirdupois
won't hurt me. Go ahead."
"Well then," said Freckles, "it's only that I feel all over as if I
belonged there. I could wear fine clothes, and move over those floors,
and hold me own against the best of them."
"But where does my laugh come in?" demanded the Angel, as if she had
been defrauded.
"And you ask me where the laugh comes in, looking me in the face after
that," marveled Freckles.
"I wouldn't be so foolish as to laugh at such a manifest truth as that,"
said the Angel. "Anyone who knows you even half as well as I do, knows
that you are never guilty of a discourtesy, and you move with twice the
grace of any man here. Why shouldn't you feel as if you belonged where
people are graceful and courteous?"
"On me soul!" said Freckles, "you are kind to be thinking it.


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