“Goodness no!” said Gwen, “they had a great deal too much to do with their little things; punishing mortals too, that took up half their time.” “Well, then, who do you imagine made the world—have you ever thought on the subject?” “This is most distressing,” whispered Mr. Waring, “he seems about to give all these rank hypotheses as facts—this is childish, unworthy of Gwen’s intellect!” “Dear love, you are unfair, there is absolutely nothing proven on either side.” “But the counter arguments will not be presented as facts.” “The religious school has firm convictions and admits no hypotheses, I have heard. I confess this primitive mode rather interests me; I wonder what Gwen’s reply will be—hush, here it comes!” “I never could think of any one person undertaking such a work,” said she, looking rather interested. “I have always thought it was done by some ceaseless force, that keeps things wound up.” “Do you think this force a beneficent one or the contrary?” “Just as the humour takes it. It seems sometimes quite human in its tempers and its injustice; rather capricious and old-womanish too,—I often think that.” “Why?” “Why! From the stupid times and places that earthquakes and waterspouts and things come, they hardly ever burst up or beat down desert islands or places like that; they always flock to populated places where people have been working for years to make themselves comfortable, and then all in a minute their work is undone and they may think themselves lucky if they aren’t undone altogether. That sort of thing seems reasonless and like an old woman.” “Poor little foolish Gwen!” said Mrs. Fellowes, with such a funny look that Gwen had to laugh. “When you are older,” said Mr. Fellowes, “and know more, you won’t be so final in your judgments. I’m going to tell you a fact now, will you believe it?” Gwen got scarlet, the question seemed to her a reproach. “Mr. Fellowes, of course I will!” “Then, Gwen, incredible as it sounds, a great, a glorious, and an Almighty God, a Spirit, Who has had neither beginning nor end, made this world and keeps it going, and He is neither unjust nor unreasonable, capricious nor an old woman, though,” he continued to the open-eyed wonder of two in that room, “that you should accredit Him with all of these rather despicable qualities, does not astonish me in the least. Can you take my word for this fact I have told you? If you can’t, say so; I need not ask you, however, you will be honest,” he added with a little amused laugh. “It sounds rather queer and mixed up, considering things as things are,” said Gwen quaintly, “but I’d take your word for anything, Mr. Fellowes.”