Stormfield's Visit to Heaven
I saw in a minute that there was some sarcasm done up in that rag somewheres, but I never let on. I only says,—
"Gone to the wash."
"Yes," he says, in a dry sort of way, "they mostly go to the wash—about this time—I've often noticed it. Fresh angels are powerful neat. When do you look for 'em back?"
"Day after to-morrow," says I.
He winked at me, and smiled.
"Sandy, out with it. Come—no secrets among friends. I notice you don't ever wear wings—and plenty others don't. I've been making an ass of myself—is that it?"
"That is about the size of it. But it is no harm. We all do it at first.