Troubling a Star by Madeleine L'Engle Page A

anything that would make Aunt Serena anxious about the trip. I raised my glass. “And to you, Aunt Serena. Thank you.”
    â€œAngels watch over you,” she said softly.
    Â 
    When I went to the kitchen, both Owain and Cook were there.
    â€œThanks for the marvelous dinner,” I told Cook.
    He handed me something. “To protect you from the sun.” It was a canvas hat with a big brim, and could be folded and put in my suitcase.
    â€œTerrific! Thank you!”
    Owain said, “We’ll miss you, Miss Vicky.”
    â€œI’ll miss you, too. But I’ll send you lots of postcards.”
    â€œAngels watch over you,” Owain said, just as Aunt Serena had said.
    â€œDo you believe in angels?” I asked. I hoped he did. I had my copy of Hamlet in my suitcase, and folded in it were Adam’s letters and cards, and the two strange cards which had been stuck in my locker at school. Angels watching over me sounded good. John had called to say goodbye, and urged me again to speak to our parents. I said I’d think about it. He knew then that I wasn’t going to.

    â€œOh, yes, Miss Vicky,” Owain answered my question. “We need our angels.”
    â€œWith wings?”
    He smiled. “Beautiful wings.”
    â€œWith feathers?”
    â€œMost artists depict them with feathers.”
    I said, “Most artists paint angels with wings that wouldn’t be able to fly.”
    Cook smiled. “It’s simply one way of representing them so that the human being can get an idea of the loveliness of angels. They are pure energy, you know.”
    â€œSo they aren’t birds,” I said.
    Cook laughed heartily. “Madam has mentioned about penguins and their feathers.”
    â€œYes. If it has feathers, it’s a bird.”
    Owain said, “Feathers or not, Miss Vicky, Stassy and I shall ask angels to watch over you.”
    Cook said, “Stassy and Owain have an in with angels. I find it very comforting.”
    â€œReady to go home?” Owain asked.
    â€œYes. Say good night to Stassy for me.”
    Stassy, I knew, was helping Aunt Serena get ready for bed.
    Owain and I went out to the car, and Cook stood looking after us.

Four
    M y eyes began to droop with weariness, and I didn’t know if this was one effect of the continuing, penetrating cold, or if it was, according to the clock, nighttime and my body was ready for sleep. It was impossible to look at the sun, as I could do at home, and say, It’s moving to the west, it will be dark soon. It was impossible to “tell” time in this land of perpetual day—or nearly perpetual day. For the past several nights, if there had been any darkness, I hadn’t seen it, because I was already asleep.
    One thing I knew was that, no matter what was causing the sleepiness, I must not give in to it. If I slid off the iceberg, that would be the end of me. I leaned against the ice tower that rose up behind me, though my body wanted, more than anything, to lie down, to curl up, to let go. I knew about travelers being lost in a blizzard and knowing that they could not lie down and go to sleep, or they’d freeze to death. I would certainly freeze if I could not make myself stay awake.
    Â 
    Â 

    Owain drove Cook and me to New York to the airport. My parents had planned to come see us off, but there was a flu epidemic in Thornhill and Clovenford, and Daddy had a lot of patients in the hospital, and Rob was sick and Mother didn’t want to leave him. In a way, it was almost easier to say goodbye at home than it would have been to have my parents at the airport. I knew Mother was having second thoughts about my going. I was having second thoughts about not showing them Adam II’s unfinished letter and those funny warnings stuck in my locker.
    Cook and I didn’t talk much on the drive down to New York. That was okay. Cook and I didn’t talk unless we had something to say.
    At