The Warp and the Woof of Things.
XXXIII.
At the dinner table the Angel told the Vicar the more striking of his day's adventures.
"The strange thing," said the Angel, "is the readiness of you Human Beings—the zest, with which you inflict pain. Those boys pelting me this morning———"
"Seemed to enjoy it," said the Vicar. "I know."
"Yet they don't like pain," said the Angel.
"No," said the Vicar; "they don't like it."
"Then, "said the Angel, "I saw some beautiful plants rising with a spike of leaves, two this way and two that, and when I caressed one it caused the most uncomfortable———"
"Stinging nettle!" said the Vicar.
"At any rate a new sort of pain. And another plant with a head like a coronet, and richly decorated leaves, spiked and jagged———"
"A thistle, possibly."
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