In Memory of Dame Angela Lansbury

The quill appeared almost magically on the podium and, just beyond it, her sweetly smiling face. "Where did you ... ?" he began, and then caught himself. "Thank you. Thank you for finding it." "Not at'all," she replied graciously. "While we can safely assume that no one is lying or practicing subterfuge here, well ... isn't rather lovely to keep some sleight-of-hand?" Peter was surprised and stared at her. "Here? In Heaven?" "Of course," she informed him very gently, "for the very fact that there is still longing here - for who we have been, who we've loved, and what we've known. How very excellent of the Pearly Gates to welcome and treasure its artful dodgers." Peter was speechless and simply gestured to where the gates were opening. "How extraordinary," he whispered (about her and all of it). "At least it wasn't a murder," she whispered back, giving him a wry wink. She sang on her way down the path towards home, having had the voice of an angel all of her days.