"It has marks! On both shoulders—"
"What sort of marks?"
"Of wings—"
"Of wings?"
"Yes, of wings, and they are growing—"
The old man remains sitting in perplexity, the second is lost in wonder, the youngest fairly leaps for joy.
"Good, good! Let them grow, may they grow into wings, big, strong ones! Good, good!"
"What is there to be glad about?" inquires his father.
"A dreadful deformity!" sighs the old man.
"Why so?" asks the grandson.