“I don’t suppose you can,” admitted Grant, “but sometimes you can be afraid of things you think are when they are not.”
“You’re getting too deep for me,” said Fred. “What I want to know is about those wings. That room seemed to be just full of something that was flying all around.”
“I’ll tell you what it was,” spoke up John.
“What was it?” inquired Fred quickly.
“Cherubs.”
“What?”
“Cherubs. Don’t you know what cherubs are? They are just heads with wings. You can find them on old tomb-stones and in the pictures of some of the old books. I have always thought that a cherub must be almost as happy as the people said he used to be. He didn’t have to bother about any clothes except neckties and a hat. It doesn’t take him very long to get from one place to another. In fact I think if Fred here was a cherub he would have had less trouble getting out of that house to-night than he did.”
“You seem to be greatly troubled about my leaving that house,” spoke up Fred testily. “I noticed that I wasn’t alone.”
“Except when you started,” suggested Grant. “We thought you were in trouble and came out to see if we could help.”
“You did?” laughed Fred derisively. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Grant, if you’ll go back into that house with me right now I’ll go too.”