"I like them very much," I said, when I had read them, and I thought of the sermon I had heard the Sunday before, and of Salome's text.
"Ay! They're good rules, them are," he said. "The missus and me reads them every morning, for we never know, Peter," he said, in a solemn voice, "which day He may come."
"Peter, have you any sort of an idea what an angel's like?"' he said, turning round on me suddenly.
I thought of the Christmas card, and of Salome, and said I wasn't sure.
"You'll be sure to-night then," he said, "as sure as your name's Peter, you will."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Why," he said, "wait till you've seen our lady, and you'll know what an angel's like, and no mistake."
"Is she so beautiful?" I asked.
"Beautiful!" he repeated. "You never saw such a face in your life, you never did. Misses," he called out to his wife, who was busy in the pantry, "is our lady beautiful? What do you say?"
"Ay, you're right there, Jem; she's beautiful, if anybody ever was beautiful!"