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The
Angel
stood
glaring
at
him
.
One
second
Freckles
lay
paralyzed
and
dumb
with
astonishment
.
The
next
the
Irish
in
his
soul
arose
above
everything
.
A
laugh
burst
from
him
.
The
terrified
Angel
caught
him
in
her
arms
and
tried
to
stifle
the
sound
.
She
implored
and
commanded
.
When
he
was
too
worn
to
utter
another
sound
,
his
eyes
laughed
silently
.
After
a
long
time
,
when
he
was
quiet
and
rested
,
the
Angel
commenced
talking
to
him
gently
,
and
this
time
her
big
eyes
,
humid
with
tenderness
and
mellow
with
happiness
,
seemed
as
if
they
could
not
leave
his
face
.
“
Dear
Freckles
,
”
she
was
saying
,
“
across
your
knees
there
is
the
face
of
the
mother
who
went
into
the
fire
for
you
,
and
I
know
the
name
—
old
and
full
of
honor
—
to
which
you
were
born
.
Dear
heart
,
which
will
you
have
first
?
”
Freckles
was
very
tired
;
the
big
drops
of
perspiration
ran
together
on
his
temples
;
but
the
watching
Angel
caught
the
words
his
lips
formed
,
“
Me
mother
!
”
She
lifted
the
lovely
pictured
face
and
set
it
in
the
nook
of
his
arm
.
Freckles
caught
her
hand
and
drew
her
beside
him
,
and
together
they
gazed
at
the
picture
while
the
tears
slid
over
their
cheeks
.
“
Me
mother
!
Oh
,
me
mother
!
Can
you
ever
be
forgiving
me
?
Oh
,
me
beautiful
little
mother
!
”
chanted
Freckles
over
and
over
in
exalted
wonder
,
until
he
was
so
completely
exhausted
that
his
lips
refused
to
form
the
question
in
his
weary
eyes
.
“
Wait
!
”
cried
the
Angel
with
inborn
refinement
,
for
she
could
no
more
answer
that
question
than
he
could
ask
.
“
Wait
,
I
will
write
it
!
”
She
hurried
to
the
table
,
caught
up
the
nurse
’
s
pencil
,
and
on
the
back
of
a
prescription
tablet
scrawled
it
:
“
Terence
Maxwell
O
’
More
,
Dunderry
House
,
County
Clare
,
Ireland
.
”
Before
she
had
finished
came
Freckles
’
voice
:
“
Angel
,
are
you
hurrying
?
”
