see birds as aren’t there, and couldn’t be, even if they pretend to talk, than some things as I could name.”

He got up slowly and heavily, and went indoors, and he was so nice to his wife that day that she felt quite happy, and said to herself, “Law, whatever have a-come to the man!” and smartened herself up and put a blue ribbon bow at the place where her collar fastened on, and looked so pretty that he was kinder than ever. So perhaps the winged children really did do one good thing that day. If so, it was the only one; for really there is nothing like wings for getting you into trouble. But, on the other hand, if you are in trouble, there is nothing like wings for getting you out of it.

This was the case in the matter of the fierce dog who sprang out at them when they had folded up their wings as small as possible and were going up to a farm door to ask for a crust of bread and cheese, for in spite of the plums they were soon just as hungry as ever again.

Now there is no doubt whatever that, if the four had been ordinary wingless children, that black and fierce dog would have had a good bite out of the brown-stockinged leg of Robert, who was the nearest. But at first growl there was a flutter of wings, and the dog was left to strain at his chain and stand on his hind-legs as if he were trying to fly too.

The farmer sat down on the grass suddenly

They tried several other farms, but at those where there were no dogs the people were far too frightened to do anything but scream; and at last when it was nearly four o’clock, and their wings were getting miserably stiff and tired, they alighted on a church-tower and held a council of war.

“We can’t possibly fly all the way home without dinner or tea,” said Robert with desperate decision.

“And nobody will give us any dinner, or even lunch, let alone tea,” said Cyril.

“Perhaps the clergyman here might,” suggested Anthea. “He must know all about angels—”

“Anybody could see we’re not that,” said Jane. “Look at Robert’s boots and Squirrel’s plaid necktie.”

“Well,” said Cyril firmly, “if the country you’re in won’t sell provisions, you take them. In wars I mean. I’m quite certain you do. And even in other stories no good brother would allow his little sisters to starve in the midst of plenty.”

“Plenty?” repeated Robert hungrily; and the others looked vaguely round the bare leads of the church-tower, and murmured, “In the midst of?”

“Yes,” said Cyril impressively. “There is a larderaq window at the side of the clergyman’s house, and I saw things to eat inside—custard pudding and cold chicken and tongue—and pies—and jam. It’s rather a high window—but with wings—”

“How clever of you!” said Jane.

“Not at all,” said Cyril modestly; “any born general—Napoleon or the Duke of Marlborought would have seen it just the same as I did.”

“It seems very wrong,” said Anthea.

“Nonsense,” said Cyril. “What was it Sir Philip Sidney said when the soldier wouldn’t stand him a drink?3 ‘My necessity is greater than his.’ ”

“We’ll club our money, though, and leave it to pay for the things, won’t we?” Anthea was persuasive, and very nearly in tears, because it is most trying to feel enormously hungry and unspeakably sinful at one and the same time.

“Some of it,” was the cautious reply.

Everyone now turned out its pockets

Everyone now turned out its pockets on the lead roof of the tower, where visitors for the last hundred and fifty years had cut their own and their sweethearts’ initials with penknives in the soft lead. There was five-and-sevenpence-half-penny altogether, and even the upright Anthea admitted that that was too much to pay for four people’s dinners. Robert said he thought eighteen pence.

And half-a-crown was finally agreed to be “handsome.”

So Anthea wrote on the back of her last term’s report, which happened to be in her pocket, and from which she first tore her own name and that of the school, the following letter:

Dear Reverend Clergyman,

We are very hungry indeed because of having to fly all day, and we think it is not stealing when you are starving to death. We are afraid to ask you for fear you should say “No,” because of course you know about angels, but you would not think we were angels. We will only take the nessessities