so brave, nobody seems too bad for her. She never despises you. And I've another friend who is a spiritualist."
"Error!"
"She told me all about myself; she was so wonderful, her eyes went through and through. She said,' You're going the wrong way,' and then it all came to me. She helped me so. And another who was a missionary's wife"
This seemed simpler, but he wondered what he could get at behind it all.
"She didn't live with him. She had met him first at a revivalist meeting; she said he was too wonderful, but he couldn't have been as wonderful as her. She used to come and see me in the mornings, when I was in bed; I was very lonely then, a dear friend and I had just parted. She never talked religion, but there was something wonderful about her face."
"And all this has really helped you? Force of example"
"I don't want to copy them: I only want to know they're there."88
"What holds you in them isn't of themselves."
"Isn't it?"
"It's simply a manifestation."
She failed to understand him.
"They are able to help you—that is their privilege and God's will. But they can't do everything."
"They do, you see; they see I can't do anything to help myself, and I suppose there must be a great many other people like me. They get at something I can't reach and hand it down to me—I could put it like that, couldn't I? That's what saints have always done, it seems to me."
"Nobody was ever meant to be a go-between,"he said with energy."You've simply no conception"
"I get everything I want that way,"she said placidly."I'm a very weak sort of person, I only want to be helped. Saints are the sort of people who've been always helping people like me; I thought I'd like to put up a window as a sort of thank-offering to them. Crowds and crowds of people I wanted to put in, all with those yellow circles round
their heads, dressed in blue and violet—I think violet's such a beautiful colour. And one big figure in the foreground, just to look like helpfulness, holding out both hands with the look I've sometimes seen on people's faces. When can I know for sure about the window? I mean, when will you tell me if they'll let me put it up?"
"I don't know,"said the Vicar, agitatedly, hurrying towards the lych-gate and holding it open for her to pass through."I'll come round and see you about it. Yes, I know the house."
"Oh, would you?"she said, shyly."Well, that would be kind. You know, talking about helpfulness, you're one of that sort of people. You don't know what it's meant to me to hear you preaching. You'd hardly believe"
"Good-night,"said the Vicar abruptly. He raised his hat, turned on his heel, and fled through the darkness....
THE NEW HOUSE
COMING up the avenue in the February dusk he could see the flash and shimmer of fireUght through the naked windows of the Hbrary. There was something unearthly in those squares of pulsing light that fretted the shadowy fa9ade, and lent to the whole an air of pasteboard unreality.
The scrunch beneath his feet of the wet gravel brought his sister to the doorstep.
"Herbert!"she cried,"oh, do come in and see it all. You've been such ages to-day —what were you doing?"
"Your messages,"he said;"they delayed me. That stupid fellow at Billingham's had made a muddle over those window measurements for the blinds; I had to go over to the workshop and give the order personally."
Standing in the hall, he was surprised to hear his voice ring out into spaciousness.
"I never realised how big it was,"he said with gratification."Why, Cicely, you're
all in the dark. You might have lighted up and made the place look a bit more festive. It's all very well to hear how big one's house is, but I'd like to see it with my own eyes."
"I'm sorry,"said Cicely;"as a matter of fact I'd only just come in myself. I was out in the garden."
"Gardening?"
"No. Just poking about. You never heard anything like the way the thrushes sing. I never knew before they could sing like that. Or perhaps I'd never had time
"Error!"
"She told me all about myself; she was so wonderful, her eyes went through and through. She said,' You're going the wrong way,' and then it all came to me. She helped me so. And another who was a missionary's wife"
This seemed simpler, but he wondered what he could get at behind it all.
"She didn't live with him. She had met him first at a revivalist meeting; she said he was too wonderful, but he couldn't have been as wonderful as her. She used to come and see me in the mornings, when I was in bed; I was very lonely then, a dear friend and I had just parted. She never talked religion, but there was something wonderful about her face."
"And all this has really helped you? Force of example"
"I don't want to copy them: I only want to know they're there."88
"What holds you in them isn't of themselves."
"Isn't it?"
"It's simply a manifestation."
She failed to understand him.
"They are able to help you—that is their privilege and God's will. But they can't do everything."
"They do, you see; they see I can't do anything to help myself, and I suppose there must be a great many other people like me. They get at something I can't reach and hand it down to me—I could put it like that, couldn't I? That's what saints have always done, it seems to me."
"Nobody was ever meant to be a go-between,"he said with energy."You've simply no conception"
"I get everything I want that way,"she said placidly."I'm a very weak sort of person, I only want to be helped. Saints are the sort of people who've been always helping people like me; I thought I'd like to put up a window as a sort of thank-offering to them. Crowds and crowds of people I wanted to put in, all with those yellow circles round
their heads, dressed in blue and violet—I think violet's such a beautiful colour. And one big figure in the foreground, just to look like helpfulness, holding out both hands with the look I've sometimes seen on people's faces. When can I know for sure about the window? I mean, when will you tell me if they'll let me put it up?"
"I don't know,"said the Vicar, agitatedly, hurrying towards the lych-gate and holding it open for her to pass through."I'll come round and see you about it. Yes, I know the house."
"Oh, would you?"she said, shyly."Well, that would be kind. You know, talking about helpfulness, you're one of that sort of people. You don't know what it's meant to me to hear you preaching. You'd hardly believe"
"Good-night,"said the Vicar abruptly. He raised his hat, turned on his heel, and fled through the darkness....
THE NEW HOUSE
COMING up the avenue in the February dusk he could see the flash and shimmer of fireUght through the naked windows of the Hbrary. There was something unearthly in those squares of pulsing light that fretted the shadowy fa9ade, and lent to the whole an air of pasteboard unreality.
The scrunch beneath his feet of the wet gravel brought his sister to the doorstep.
"Herbert!"she cried,"oh, do come in and see it all. You've been such ages to-day —what were you doing?"
"Your messages,"he said;"they delayed me. That stupid fellow at Billingham's had made a muddle over those window measurements for the blinds; I had to go over to the workshop and give the order personally."
Standing in the hall, he was surprised to hear his voice ring out into spaciousness.
"I never realised how big it was,"he said with gratification."Why, Cicely, you're
all in the dark. You might have lighted up and made the place look a bit more festive. It's all very well to hear how big one's house is, but I'd like to see it with my own eyes."
"I'm sorry,"said Cicely;"as a matter of fact I'd only just come in myself. I was out in the garden."
"Gardening?"
"No. Just poking about. You never heard anything like the way the thrushes sing. I never knew before they could sing like that. Or perhaps I'd never had time
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