Of course I shall let her keep the
doll."
Miss Terry hesitated. The Angel looked at her steadily and his glance
seemed to read her half-formed thoughts.
"Surely," he said. "It seems to belong to her, does it not? But is this
all? I wonder if something more does not belong to her."
"What more?" asked Miss Terry shortly.
"A home!" cried the Angel.
Miss Terry groped in her memory for a scornful ejaculation which she had
once been fond of using, but there was no such word to be found. Instead
there came to her lips the name, "Mary."
The Angel repeated it softly. "_Mary._ It is a blessed name," he said.
"Blessed the roof that shelters a Mary in her need."
There was a long silence, in which Miss Terry felt new impulses stirring
within her; impulses drawing her to the child whose looks recalled her own
childhood. The Angel regarded her with beaming eyes. After some time he
said quietly, "Now let us see what became of your last experiment."
Miss Terry started. It seemed as if she had been interrupted in pleasant
dreaming. "_You_ were the last experiment," she said. "I know what became
of you. Here you are!"
"Yet more may have happened than you guessed," replied the Angel meaningly.
"I have tried to show you how often that is the case.
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