Besides, you'll be a big angel some day, Willie, and then you'll have wings, and be able to fly me about." "But you'll have wings of your own then, and be able to fly without me." "But I _may_ fold them up sometimes--mayn't I?
for it would be much nicer to be carried by _your_ wings--sometimes, you know.

Look, look, Willie! Look at the sunbeam on the trunk of the fir--how red it's got.
I do wish I could have a peep at the sun.

Where can he be?
I should see him if I were to go into his beam there--shouldn't I ?" "He's shining past the end of the cottage," said Willie.

"Go, and you'll see him." "Go where ?" asked Agnes.
"Into the red sunbeam on the fir-tree." "I haven't got my wings yet, Willie." "That's what people very often say when they're not inclined to try what they can do with their legs." "But I can't go there, Willie." "You haven't tried." "How am I to try ?" "You're not even trying to try.

You're standing talking, and saying you can't." It was nearly all Agnes could do to keep from crying.