'Dear,' she said, 'you have made a mistake. I am not that sort of angel. I hope they take care of you and me and all of us here on earth, as well as where your papa is. But I don't want you to go away. I want you to stay here and be happy with me.'
Godfrey looked at her steadily through his lashes.
'What are you?' he asked abruptly; 'are you a lady?'
'Yes, I think—I hope so,' said Angel.
'Last night I thought you were a white witch, like the ones in Biddy's stories,' said the child, 'and I wanted you to make wings for me. Are you sure, sure you can't? I want to go back.'
His lips began to quiver, and Angel drew him close to her.
'I can't send you back, dear,' she said tenderly; 'couldn't you try to be happy with me? I want to love you very much.'
'Does he live here?' asked Godfrey abruptly.
'Cousin Crayshaw do you mean?' asked Angel, in some alarm. 'No; he comes to see us and help us, and tell us what to do.'
'I shall kill him next time he comes,' said Godfrey, calmly; 'I shall hold on to his leg and bite him till he dies.'