owded about him, hugging and kissing him; then stood back with a
solemn stillness, their wings lying close to their shoulders. The little
fellow looked round on them once with a smile, and then shot himself
headlong through the star-hole. Diamond, as privileged, threw himself
on the ground to peep after him, but he saw nothing. "It's no use," said
the captain. "I never saw anything more of one that went that way."

"His wings can't be much use," said Diamond, concerned and fearful, yet
comforted by the calm looks of the rest.

"That's true," said the captain. "He's lost them by this time. They all
do that go that way. You haven't got any, you see."

"No," said Diamond. "I never did have any."

"Oh! didn't you?" said the captain.

"Some people say," he added, after a pause, "that they come again. I
don't know. I've never found the colour I care about myself. I suppose I
shall some day."

Then they looked again at the star, put it carefully into its hole,
danced around it and over it--but solemnly, and called it by the name of
the finder.

"Will you know it again?" asked Diamond.

"Oh, yes. We never forget a star that's been made a door of."

Then they went on with their searching and digging.

Diamond having neither pickaxe nor spade, had the more time to think.

"I don't see any little girls," he said at last.

The captain stopped his shovelling, leaned on his spade, rubbed his
forehead thoughtfully with his left hand--the little angels were all
left-handed--repeated the words "little girls," and then, as if a
thought had struck him, resumed his work, saying--

"I think I know what you mean. I've never seen any of them, of course;
but I suppose that's the sort you mean. I'm told--but mind I don't say
it is so, for I don't know--that when we fall asleep, a troop of angels
very like ourselves, only quite different, goes round to all the stars
we have discovered, and discovers them after us. I suppose with our
shovelling and handling we spoil them a bit; and I daresay the clouds
that come up from below make them smoky and dull sometimes. They
say--mind, I say they say--these other angels take them out one by one,
and pass each round as we do, and breathe over it, and rub it with
their white hands, which are softer than ours, because they don't do any
pick-and-spade work, and smile at it, and put it in again: and that is
what keeps them from growing dark."

"How jolly!" thought Diamond. "I should like to see