"There are no angels," Jon noted. "I see two of them," his father quietly replied, then he glanced at his son and amended with a grin, "three of them."

The little boy nodded slowly, a smile of comprehension drifting across his face. Turning to look up at the tall man beside him, he said, "You think heaven will have whatever a person most wants it to have, is that it?"

"I think it's very possible." "So do I," Jon agreed after another moment's thought. He started to turn, saw his tutor and his relatives looking expectantly in his direction, then he turned back to his father and said with a helpless smile, "They're going to ask what you said. And if I tell Mr. Twindell you said heaven will be like this, he'll be very disappointed. He's counting, you know, on gold streets and angels and horses with wings."

"I see where that could be a problem," Ian agreed, and he tenderly laid his hand against his son's cheek. "In that case, you can tell him I said this is almost heaven."