Betty made an effort to recover her self-possession.
'I'm only Betty,' she said, dabbing her face with her handkerchief; 'are you an angel?'
'Indeed I am not; do I look like one?'
And the lady threw back her head and laughed in a very amused way.
'Not now,' said Betty soberly; 'but you did look like one when you were singing, and I—I hoped you might be.'
'Why did you hope so?'
Again Betty was silent; then, looking up, she seemed to gather courage from the kind face looking down upon her, and burying her face in the lady's dress, she sobbed out,—
'I thought God might have sent you; and then you could have told me lots of things I wanted to know.'
'Perhaps God may have sent me instead of an angel. Tell me some of the things you want to know.'
'I want to know about Violet, and heaven, and tribulation,' murmured Betty a little incoherently; and then she started as the church clock in the belfry began to chime five.