“What a good thing he is alive!” she thought, “and how cruel it was that he died! Why was it? Why should God⁠—to whom I prayed so earnestly⁠—let him die? Why should God wish it?⁠ ⁠… He did no harm to anyone.⁠ ⁠… Doesn’t God know that my whole life is wrapped up in him, and that I cannot live without him? To take such an unfortunate, dear, innocent being, and torture him⁠ ⁠… and in answer to all my prayers, to shatter my life, and let his eyes set, and his body stretch out and grow stiff and cold!⁠ ⁠…”

Again she saw him coming. Such a little fellow, passing in at such big doors, swinging his little arms as grown-up people do. And he looked and smiled.⁠ ⁠… “The darling!⁠ ⁠… and God wants to torture and destroy him ! Why pray to Him, if He does such horrible things?”

Suddenly Molly, the under-nurse, began to say something very strange. The mother knew it was the girl Molly, yet it was both Molly and an angel at the same time.

“But if she is an angel, why has she no wings on her back?” thought the mother.