The Imp and the Angel
Algy? Where is my angel?" she cried, frightened and angry. He did not need to answer, for Algernon stepped forward, and at the sight of that youth, ragged, dirty, and barelegged, the people on the piazza burst into laughter.
Nor did the Angel care a rap for them. Too full of his happiness to remember to be afraid, he fell into his mother's arms, babbling excitedly of a fire and a dog and fishing-rods and lines.
"I had two great big potatoes—two! And dried-up beef, and some black lickerish! I wriggled m' toes into the sand, and I can jump farther than him!" he gasped, indicating the Imp, who tried to flee from his mother's accusing eyes and get into the bed that was even now awaiting him.
"Dried beef! licorice! Oh, heavens!" cried Mrs. Schuyler. "Algernon, how did you dare? You will be sick for weeks! You are in a fever now!"
She clasped him to her in terror, but old Dr. Williams advanced and pulled him away.
"Nonsense, nonsense, Mrs. Schuyler!" said he, sharply, but with his eyes full of laughter. "He's no more fever than I have this minute. Stand up,
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