St. Peter looked at the Scrolls of Heaven. It was the giant book in which he listed the names of the new entrants to Heaven. He took stock of the entire week and sighed. His elegant handwriting appeared only once on the week's page. 'Only a single entry this week?' St. Peter said, putting his quill behind his ear and stroking his furry, white beard. 'We are losing out to the Competition. It looks like they've got a stronger campaign going on down below. I'll have to give all our Achiever Angels a pep talk or else all our new chambers will stay empty. But where in Heaven's name is Aggie? If he doesn't show up before my pocket watch strikes the next hour, he'll have to watch the dreaded concerto tonight!' St. Peter chuckled to himself. Aggie was St. Peter's favourite Achiever Angel.

The young angel was like a son to him. Aggie was always cheerful and was forever humming hymns and ever since he had joined St. Peter and his team of angels, he had worked hard to convince the mortals about the route to Heaven, so they could make it their home in the afterlife. Aggie had done St. Peter proud and had earned the title of Achiever Angel in hardly any time.

Millicent Beauford, the lone name that St. Peter had written on the parchment this week, too had been shown the pathway to Heaven by Aggie. St. Peter recalled the tale Aggie had recently told him about the French gentleman. The potbellied Monsieur Beauford had been on his way to break into a vault at the Nationale Banque de Paris. He was smacking his lips, dreaming of the contents of the vault. Several million francs. It could buy him a chain of patisseries across the country. Aggie had spotted Monsieur Beauford in the nick of time. Just before Monsieur Beauford could have jimmied the lock's lever, Aggie intervened in the guise of a prison convict and warned him about the horrors of prison food, 'Their sandwiches are sandy, their saltines are salty, their soup tastes like goop and their mousse just like moose! And do remember my dearest Monsieur Beauford, there are no petit-fours on the prison menu!'

Aggie’s timely warning had reformed Monsieur Beauford at once. The pudgy old man immediately abandoned his safe-breaking plans and tools and made up his mind to be happy with the marmalade and bread pudding he had in his larder at home.