“Dwesses?”
She began to laugh, looking at me sideways as though she suspected me of making jokes. “What a funny Mummy!” she said, evidently much amused. She has a fat little laugh that is very infectious.
“I think,” said I, gravely, “you had better go and play with the other babies.”
She did not answer, and sat still a moment watching the clouds. I began writing again.
“Mummy,” she said presently.
“Well?”
“Where do the angels get their dwesses?”
I hesitated. “From lieber Gott,” I said.
“Are there shops in the Himmel?”
“Shops? No.”