"I have come to speak to you about your work," said the
Angel-who-attends-to-things. "It appears to be unsatisfactory."
"Indeed!" said the man. "I hardly see how that can be. Perhaps you
will explain."
"I will!" said the Angel. "To begin with, the work is slovenly."
"I was born heedless," said the man. "It is a family failing which I
have always regretted."
"It is ill put together, too;" said the Angel. "The parts do not fit."
"I never had any eye for proportion," said the man; "I admit it is
unfortunate."
"The whole thing is a botch," said the Angel. "You have put neither
brains nor heart into it, and the result is ridiculous failure. What
do you propose to do about it?"
"I credited you with more comprehension," said the man. "My faults,
such as they are, were born with me. I am sorry that you do not
approve of me, but this is the way I was made; do you see?"
"I see!" said the Angel. He put out a strong white hand, and taking
the man by the collar, tumbled him neck and crop into the ditch.
"What is the meaning of this?" cried the man, as he scrambled out
breathless and dripping. "I never saw such behavior. Do you see what
you have done? you have ruined my clothes, and nearly drowned me
beside."
"Oh yes!" said the Angel: "this is the way _I_ was made."