Angel Island

"But I won't go further into our situation. I want to consider

Angela's."

"You are wondering what all this has to do with the matter of Angela's

flying. And now I am going to tell you. Don't you see if they wait until

she is a woman before they cut her wings, she will be in the same case

that we are in, unable either to fly or to walk. Rather would I myself

cut her wings to-night and force her to walk. But on the other hand,

should she grow to womanhood with wings, she would be no true mate to a

wingless man unless she could also walk. No, we must see to it that she

both flies and walks. In that case, she will be a perfect mate to the

wingless man. Her strength will not be as great as his - but her

facility will be greater. She will walk well enough to keep by his side;

and her flying will supplement his powers."

"And then - oh, don't you see it - don't you see why we must fight -

fight - fight for Angela, don't you see why her wings are a sacred trust

with us? Sometime, there will be born here - - Clara," she turned her

look on Clara's excited face, "it may be the baby that's coming to you

in the spring - sometime there will be born here a boy with wings. Then

more and more often they will come until there are as many winged men as

winged women. What will become of our girl-children then if their mates

fly as well as walk away from them. There is only one way out. And there

is only one duty before us - to learn to walk that we may teach our

daughters to walk - to preserve our daughter's wings that they may teach

their sons to fly."

"But, Julia," Peachy exclaimed, after an instant of dead silence. There

was a stir of wonder, flutelike in her voice, a ripple of wonder,

flamelike on her face. "Our feet are too fine, too soft. Ralph says that

mine are only toy feet, that no creature could really get along on

them."

She kicked the loose sandals off. Tiny, slim, delicately chiseled, her

feet were of a china whiteness, except where, at the tips, the toes

showed a rose-flush or where, over the instep, the veins meandered in a

blue network.

"Of course Peachy's feet are smaller than mine," Lulu said wistfully.

"But even my workaday little pads wouldn't carry me many steps." From

under her skirts appeared a pair of capable-looking, brown feet, square,

broad but little and satin-smooth.