“An Angel’s got to be more than a human being,” he continued. “So I say, an Angel is the soul of man and woman in one: they rise united at the Judgment Day, as one Angel——”
“Praising the Lord,” said Frank.
“Praising the Lord,” repeated Tom.
“And what about the women left over?” asked Alfred, jeering. The company was getting uneasy.
“That I can’t tell. How do I know as there is anybody left over at the Judgment Day? Let that be. What I say is, that when a man’s soul and a woman’s soul unites together—that makes an Angel——”
“I dunno about souls. I know as one plus one makes three, sometimes,” said Frank. But he had the laugh to himself.
“Bodies and souls, it’s the same,” said Tom.
“And what about your missis, who was married afore you knew her?” asked Alfred, set on edge by this discourse.
“That I can’t tell you. If I am to become an Angel, it’ll be my married soul, and not my single soul. It’ll not be the soul of me when I was a lad: for I hadn’t a soul as would make an Angel then.”
“I can always remember,” said Frank’s wife, “when our Harold was bad, he did nothink but see an angel at th’ back o’ th’ lookin’-glass. ‘Look, mother,’ ’e said, ‘at that angel!’ ‘Theer isn’t no angel, my duck,’ I said, but he wouldn’t have it. I took th’ lookin’-glass off’n th’ dressin’-table, but it made no difference. He kep’ on sayin’ it was there. My word, it did give me a turn. I thought for sure as I’d lost him.”