"The bad people would. That would be hell, you see, always serving it to others and never allowed to taste any."
"That wouldn't work, either," objected the Watermelon. "Because there would be so many more to do the serving than there would be people to serve. No, we are both wrong. Heaven is a grove of trees back of a white garage. There's a fallen log and a couple sitting on it."
"I should think that would be monotonous," said Billy. "Do they talk?"
"Sure, they talk. Heaven ain't a deaf and dumb asylum."
"I should think they would get talked out during eternity."
"Ah," said the Watermelon, leaning a bit nearer, "eternity is but a minute."
"What do they talk about?"
"Heaven."
"Are they angels?"
"One is."