'That is just what she looks like,' said Wych, with a glow of pleasure. 'And I'm going to help her all I can.'
'But do you not think,' said Mr. Morton, with the dubious look again—'you are talking, I imagine, of Miss Maryland's visits among the lower classes,—do not you think they make a young lady too prominent—too public—Mr. Dell? They bring her among very rough people, Miss Kennedy, I assure you.'
'But, sir, one would not lose the chance of being a good angel for the fear of being prominent.'
'Or for the fear of anything else,' said Mr. Dell.
'Truly not,' said Mr. Morton. 'But we gentlemen think, Miss Kennedy, that ladies of a certain stamp can scarcely fail of so desirable a position.'
'Ah, but I want a pair of bona fide wings!' said Wych Hazel, and she looked so comically innocent and witch-like that Mr. Morton forgot all else in admiration; and Mr. Dell looked at her with all his eyes as he remarked,—
'Not to fly away from the poor and needy—as many of Mr.
Morton's angels do.'
'Do they?' said Wych Hazel,—'where do they fly to? Mr. Morton, what becomes of your angels?'
'My angels,' said Mr. Morton with some emphasis on the pronoun, 'would never be in the majority. When I said "ladies of a certain stamp," I by no means intended to say that the class was a large one.'
'No, sir, of course not. If the class were large, I should suppose the stamp would become very uncertain. Mr. Dell, what does Crocus want most, just now?'