"I am no angel, Uncle Venner," said Phoebe, smiling, as she offered him

her hand at the street-corner. "But, I suppose, people never feel so

much like angels as when they are doing what little good they may. So

I shall certainly come back!"

Thus parted the old man and the rosy girl; and Phoebe took the wings of

the morning, and was soon flitting almost as rapidly away as if endowed

with the aerial locomotion of the angels to whom Uncle Venner had so

graciously compared her.