One second Freckles lay paralyzed and
dumb with astonishment. The next the Irish in his soul arose above
everything. A laugh burst from him. The terrified Angel caught him in
her arms and tried to stifle the sound. She implored and commanded. When
he was too worn to utter another sound, his eyes laughed silently.
After a long time, when he was quiet and rested, the Angel commenced
talking to him gently, and this time her big eyes, humid with tenderness
and mellow with happiness, seemed as if they could not leave his face.
"Dear Freckles," she was saying, "across your knees there is the face of
the mother who went into the fire for you, and I know the name--old and
full of honor--to which you were born. Dear heart, which will you have
first?"
Freckles was very tired; the big drops of perspiration ran together on
his temples; but the watching Angel caught the words his lips formed,
"Me mother!"
She lifted the lovely pictured face and set it in the nook of his arm.
Freckles caught her hand and drew her beside him, and together they
gazed at the picture while the tears slid over their cheeks.
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