NCE a child who thought well of herself was
walking along the street, and saw another child, who was
"How wretched it must be," she said to herself, "to be
poor and shabby like that child! How thin she is! and how her
patched cloak flutters in the wind; so different from my
velvet dress and coat!"
Just then an Angel came along.
"What are you looking at?" asked the Angel.
"I was looking at that girl!" said the child.
"So was I," said the Angel. "How beautifully she is
"What do you mean?" said the child. "I mean this one
coming towards us. She is in rags, or at least if her
 are not ragged, they are wretchedly thin and shabby."
"Oh, no," said the Angel. "How can you say so? She is in
sparkling white, as clear as frost. I never saw anything so
pretty. But you, you poor little thing, you are indeed
miserably clad. Does not the wind blow through and
through these flimsy tatters? But at least you could
keep them clean, my dear, and mended. You should see to
"I don't know what you can mean!"
said the child. "That girl is a ragged beggar, and my
father is the richest man in town. I have a velvet dress
and coat, trimmed with expensive fur. What are you talking
"About the clothes of your soul, of course!" said the
Angel, who was young.
"I don't know anything about
souls," said the child.
"I shouldn't think you did!" said the Angel.