"Just some clothes hung up," I whispered back.
"I fought they moved," he said. "Do you fink the wardrobe door moved, John?"
"Everything seems a little queer this morning," I replied. "I heard a whispering sort of noise at the shutters a bit ago."
Angel began to talk in his sleep.
"If three suns were to rise at six," he muttered, "how many stars would it take to make a moon?"
The Seraph began to laugh delightedly. He kicked his legs and showed all his little white teeth. Angel opened his eyes and stared at us crossly. "What a beastly row," he said. "I want to sleep some more."
The silver bars between the slats of the shutters took a golden tinge. Clearly it was to be a fine day, after a week of rain and sleet.
The chimes of the Cathedral sounded. The notes came with penetrating sweetness as though the air were cold and clear. We heard the door of Mary Ellen's room open; she descended the back stairs noisily.
The Seraph turned a somersault in the middle of the bed.
"Cwistmas is coming," he said, trying to stand on his head, "and I want a pony."