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"Oh, yes, Peachy," Lulu said, "Angela's wings ain in her"

"I do!" answered Peachy "I do" There was treh she were defending herself from some silent accusation

"But it isn't the same It isn't It can't be Besides, I want to fly

with her"

The ripples in the cove grew to little waves, to big waves, to combers

The women talked and the children played Honey-Boy and Peterkin waded

out to their shoulders, dipped, and pretended to swier than the others, balanced on its crest Wings

outspread, she fluttered back, descended when the crash came in a shower

of rainbow drops She dipped and rose, her feathers drippingcrest

"Oh," Lulu sighed, "I do want a little girl I threatened if this one

was a boy to drown it" "This one" proved to be a bundle lying on the

pine-needles at her side The bundle stirred and emitted a querulous

protest She picked it up and it proved to be a baby, just such another