Are you strong enough to listen?
May I tell you ?" "Maybe 'twasn't me mother! Maybe someone else made those little stitches!" "Now, goosie, don't you begin that," said the Angel, "because I know that it was!" "Know!" cried Freckles, his head springing from the pillow.

"Know! How can you know ?" The Angel gently soothed him back.
"Why, because nobody else would ever sit and do it the way it is done.
That's how I know," she said emphatically.

"Now you listen while I tell you about this lost boy and his people, who have hunted for months and can't find him." Freckles lay quietly under her touch, but he did not hear a word that she was saying until his roving eyes rested on her face; he immediately noticed a remarkable thing.

For the first time she was talking to him and avoiding his eyes.

That was not like the Angel at all.