When they have to quit to do something else, they look sorry, and
fold up their work so particularly. There isn't much worth knowing about
your mother that those little clothes won't tell. I can see her putting
the little stitches into them and smiling with shining eyes over your
coming. Freckles, I'll wager you a dollar those little clothes of yours
are just alive with the dearest, tiny handmade stitches."
A new light dawned in Freckles' eyes. A tinge of warm color swept into
his face. Renewed strength was noticeable in his grip of her hands.
"Oh Angel! Will you go now? Will you be hurrying?" he cried.
"Right away," said the Angel. "I won't stop for a thing, and I'll hurry
with all my might."
She smoothed his pillow, straightened the cover, gave him one steady
look in the eyes, and went quietly from the room.
Outside the door, McLean and the surgeon anxiously awaited her. McLean
caught her shoulders.
"Angel, what have you done?" he demanded.
The Angel smiled defiance into his eyes.
"'What have I done?'" she repeated.
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