"The angel was only in a dream, and you're here, Willie. Besides, you'll
be a big angel some day, Willie, and then you'll have wings, and be able
to fly me about."

"But you'll have wings of your own then, and be able to fly without me."

"But I _may_ fold them up sometimes--mayn't I? for it would be much
nicer to be carried by _your_ wings--sometimes, you know. Look, look,
Willie! Look at the sunbeam on the trunk of the fir--how red it's got.
I do wish I could have a peep at the sun. Where can he be? I should see
him if I were to go into his beam there--shouldn't I?"

"He's shining past the end of the cottage," said Willie. "Go, and you'll
see him."

"Go where?" asked Agnes.

"Into the red sunbeam on the fir-tree."

"I haven't got my wings yet, Willie."

"That's what people very often say when they're not inclined to try what
they can do with their legs."

"But I can't go there, Willie."

"You haven't tried."

"How am I to try?"

"You're not even trying to try. You're standing talking, and saying you
can't."

It was nearly all Agnes could do to keep from crying. But she felt she
must do something more lest Willie should be vexed. There seemed but one
way to get nearer to the sunbeam, and that was to go down this tree and
run to the foot of the other. What if Willie had made a stair up it
also? But as she turned to see how she was to go down, for she had been
carried up blind, she caught sight of the straight staircase between the
two boughs, and, with a shriek of delight, up she ran.

"Gently, gently! Don't bring the tree down with your tremendous weight,"
cried Willie, following her close behind.

At the end of the stairs she sprang upon the bough of the fir, and in a
moment more was sitting in the full light of the sunset.

"O Willie! Willie! this _is_ grand! How good, how kind of you! You
_have_ made a bird of me! What will papa and mamma say? Won't they be
delighted? I must run and fetch Mona."

So saying she hurried across again, and down the stair, and away to look
for Mona Shepherd, shouting with delight as she ran. In a few minutes
her cries had gathered the whole house to the bottom of the garden, as
well as Mr Shepherd and Mona and Mrs Hunter. Mr Macmichael and all of
them went up into the tree, Mr Shepherd last and with some misgivings;
for, having no mechanical faculty himself, he could not rightly value
Willie's, and feared that he might not have made the stair safe. But Mr
Macmich