A SNAIL’S RACE. 207

before the time when the post-box shuts up, and father will see
how quick I can be!”

Johnny stopped to draw breath. “Iam sorry I can’t wait
for you, Betty,” he panted, “I must run!”

“Eh, laddie,” said Betty, looking down at him kindly,
“my running days are over, or else I would have run a race
with you!”

“Did you ever have any running days?” said Johnny; he
thought that they must have been a long while ago, and that
it was a pity they were gone by ;—to be sure, old Betty could
not have been born with a crutch. He felt so sorry for old
Betty because she could never run races any more, that he -
stopped for two whole minutes and walked slowly by her
side.

‘My legs are a’most worn out now,” said Betty, half to
herself; ‘the next thing will be for me to have wings.”

What could old Betty mean? She went on just as if she
were alone, murmuring some words which had been said in
church the Sunday before; something that sounded like,
“Figual unto the angels, being the children of the Resurrec-
tion.” Johnny might have heard the clergyman read them, too,
if he had not been so very busy watching the great stone angel
carved over the font, and wondering how it would look and
how far those long wings would reach if the angel stretched
them out, and wishing that he could see a real one.

A very sweet smile came into the old woman’s face as she
said the words, and she hobbled along bravely.

“Run, laddie, run!” she said to Johnny. ‘“ Don’t wait
for an old crawling soul like me; use your legs while they ’re
young.”

‘Good-bye, Betty,” said Johnny. “I wish I could wait
for you, but you see I must go on.”