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Or wull it be Sin in a motley gown a-thumping the Black Man over the pate wi' a bladder full o' peasen an' angels wi' silver wingses, an' saints wi' goolden hair? Or wull it be a giant nine yards high, clad in the beards o' murdered kings, like granny saith she used to see?" "Pshaw! no," said Nick; "none of those old-fashioned things.
"Wife," said the cabman, turning towards the bed, "I do somehow believe that wur a angel just gone. Did you see him, wife? He warn't wery big, and he hadn't got none o' them wingses, you know. It wur one o' them baby-angels you sees on the gravestones, you know." "Nonsense, hubby!" said his wife; "but it's just as good. I might say better, for you can ketch hold of him when you like.
I grab it by de two wingses, an' I hang on liker chigger. De odder pickaninnies jes' a jumpin' eroun' an er-hollerin'. But Unc' Rufus knowed better'n dat. "Dat houn' dawg, he pull, an' I pull, an' it sho' a wondah we didn' pull dat bird all apaht betwixt us. But erbout de secon' wrench dat hongry beast gib, he pull de laig clean off'n dat ol' goose!
Nick sang like a blackbird in the hedge. And how those country lads and lasses stared to see such winsome, dainty grace! "La me!" gaped one, "'tis fairy folk she doth na even touch the ground!" "The pretty dear!" the mothers said. "Doll, why canst thou na do the like, thou lummox?" "Tut," sighed the buxom Doll, "I have na wingses on my feet!"
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