the shade
of the spreading cedar, the horses stamped occasionally as the flies
troubled them. The grooms were mounted; one held the delicate-limbed
white Arab, the other the great black horse.

'I would rather be an angel than God!'

The little girl who made the remark was an ideal specimen of the village
Sunday-school child. Blue-eyed, rosy-cheeked, thick-legged, with her
straight brown hair tied into a hard bunch with a much-creased, cherry-
coloured ribbon. A glance at the girl would have satisfied the most
sceptical as to her goodness. Without being in any way smug she was
radiant with self-satisfaction and well-doing. A child of the people; an
early riser; a help to her mother; a good angel to her father; a little
mother to her brothers and sisters; cleanly in mind and body;
self-reliant, full of faith, cheerful.

The other little girl was prettier, but of a more stubborn type; more
passionate, less organised, and infinitely more assertive. Black-haired,
black-eyed, swarthy, large-mouthed, snub-nosed; the very type and essence
of unrestrained, impulsive, emotional, sensual nature. A seeing eye
would have noted inevitable danger for the early years of her womanhood.
She seemed amazed by the self-abnegation implied by her companion's
statement; after a pause she replied:

'I wouldn't! I'd rather be up at the top of everything and give orders
to the angels if I chose. I can't think, Marjorie, why you'd rather take
orders than give them.'

'That's just it, Susan. I don't want to give orders; I'd rather obey
them. It must be very terrible to have to think of things so much, that
you want everything done your own way. And besides, I shouldn't like to
have to be just!'

'Why not?' the voice was truculent, though there was wistfulness in it
also.

'Oh Susan. Just fancy having to punish; for of course justice needs
punishing as well as praising. Now an angel has such a nice time,
helping people and comforting them, and bringing sunshine into dark
places. Putting down fresh dew every morning; making the flowers grow,
and bringing babies and taking care of them till their mothers find them.
Of course God is very good and very sweet and very merciful, but oh, He
must be very terrible.'

'All the same I would rather be God and able to do things!'

Then the children moved off out of earshot. The two seated on the
tombstone looked after them. The first to speak was the girl, who said:

'That's very