"Just look at me," she answered with a smile that was very pitiful,
though she did not mean it for such, "--shut up all my life in this
epitome of deformity! But I ain't grumbling: that would be a fine
thing! My house is not so small but God can get into it. Only you
can't think how tired I often am of it."

"Mr. Wingfold was telling me yesterday that some people fancy St.
Paul was little and misshapen, and that that was his thorn in the
flesh."

"I don't think that can be true, or he would never have compared his
body to a tabernacle, for, oh dear! it won't stretch an inch to give
a body room. I don't think either, if that had been the case, he
would have said he didn't want it taken off, but another put over
it. I do want mine taken off me, and a downright good new one put on
instead--something not quite so far off your sister's there, Mr.
Lingard. But I'm ashamed of talking like this. It came of wanting to
tell you I can't be sorry you are going when I should so dearly like
to go myself."

"And I would gladly stay a while, and that in a house no bigger than
yours, if I had a conscience of the same sort in my back-parlour,"
said Leopold smiling. "But when I am gone the world will be the
cleaner for it.--Do you know about God the same way your uncle does,
Miss Polwarth?"

"I hope I do--a little. I doubt if anybody knows as much as he
does," she returned, very seriously. "But God knows about us all the
same, and he don't limit his goodness to us by our knowledge of him.
It's so wonderful that he can be all to everybody! That is his