The shaded room was still; the doctor and the nurse sat watching by the
bedside; the firelight crept into the corners and whispered to the
shadows: there was no other sound.
"You think you are ready to go?" asked the Angel-who-attends-to-things.
"Yes!" said the man. "I have drained the Cup from brim to bitter lees; I
have read the Book from cover to cover. I am ready."
"Humph!" said the Angel-who-attends-to-things. "Well, come along!" and
he led the man out, but did not shut the door after him.
The man had lived in state and splendor, and he had thought that some
ceremony would attend his departure, but there was nothing of the sort.
The only change was, that as he went along the Angel seemed to be
growing very tall, and he very little, so that he had to reach up to
hold the strong white hand, and his feet were well-nigh taken from under
him by the sweep of the great white robes; also he felt afraid and
foolish, he knew not why.
So they came at last to a gate, through which many children were passing
with glad faces, carrying tablets of amber and pearl; and beside the
gate sat another Angel, writing in a book; and when a child passed in,
this Angel nodded and smiled to him, and wrote a word in his book.
Now the Angel of the Gate looked up, and saw the
Angel-who-attends-to-things, and beside him the man, holding fast to his
hand, and feeling afraid and foolish.
"From the Primary Department?" asked the Angel of the Gate.
"Yes!" said the other, who never wasted words.
The Angel of the Gate looked the man over carefully. "His hands are
dirty!" he said at length.
"Yes!" said the Angel-who-attends-to-things; "he has not learned to keep
them clean."
"And there is mud on his feet!"
"Yes, he will walk in the mire."
"And his clothes are torn, and stained with blood."
"Yes, he has been quarrelling with his brother and beating him."
At this the man found his voice and cried out, though he felt more
afraid and foolish than ever, and his voice sounded high and thin, like
that of a tiny child.
"I have no brother!" said the man.
The two Angels looked at each other.
"You see!" said the Angel-who-attends-to-things. "I knew how it would
be."
Then he turned to the man. "Run along back," he said, "and try to do
better next time. I left the door open for you."
And in the shaded room, while the firelight whispered to the shadows in
the corners, the doctor rose from the bedside, and spoke softly to the
nurse.
"The crisis is past," he said, "he will live."