"I am no angel, Uncle Venner," said Phoebe, smiling, as she offered him
her hand at the street-corner. "But, I suppose, people never feel so
much like angels as when they are doing what little good they may. So
I shall certainly come back!"
Thus parted the old man and the rosy girl; and Phoebe took the wings of
the morning, and was soon flitting almost as rapidly away as if endowed
with the aerial locomotion of the angels to whom Uncle Venner had so
graciously compared her.