"My father used to tell about you," whispered Rebecca. "You and Aunt Pearly Gates. Gee, but this milk is good!"
"Yo' paw?"
"Yes, I guess he was the Marse Tom you spoke of, but we mustn't talk about that. Nobody believes me and I am going away back to New York. I'm very sorry I threw that fit. I guess it was a fit, and I wasn't dying after all, but somehow if I had died and waked up in Heaven it might have been just like this: all of the hard, hating faces gone, and a sweet, fat brown angel looking at me so kindly and bringing me milk. Where's the honey, Aunt New Testament?"
"What honey, chil'?" Aunt Testy was trying hard not to cry.
"The honey that goes with the milk! In Heaven the honey always flows with the milk. I'm going to pretend like, just for a few minutes until I get alive again, that I am dead and in Heaven. You won't mind pretending you are my good angel, will you, Aunt New Testament?"
"No, baby!" sobbed Aunt Testy. "An' I'll git my ol' man ter rob them bee hibes if'n you kin wait three shakes."
"Never mind," smiled Rebecca. "We can
