smiling over?"

"I am still thinking of angels. Would you ever have dreamed, Anna,
that they sometimes wore list shoes, and sometimes ate bread and jam,
and occasionally spoke with granite lips? They do."

Brockton stirred uneasily, foreboding failure. And Anna sighed,
mourning two lost visions.






KEEPERS OF A CHARGE

BY GRACE ELLERY CHANNING


The Doctor's brougham stood at the door; the Doctor's liveried
servants waited at the foot of the stairs; the Doctor himself in his
study was gathering together his paraphernalia for the day, and the
Doctor's face was a study.

He was tired; he was cross; he was feeling ill. His nervous hands were
unsteady; his movements were by jerks; his face was a knitted tangle
of lines. He had rheumatism in both shoulders, and a headache, and a
pain in his chest. He had slept but little, and one of his patients
had had the happy idea of despatching a messenger for him in the dead
hour of the night. The Doctor never went out nights, and she ought to