"Only an old, outworn theological belief. But, to resume: I believe that, since God is mind, man must be an idea of His. Since God is infinite, man must exist in Him. I know that any number of lies can be made up about true things. And any number of falsities can be assumed about God and what He has made. I am sure that the material universe and man are a part of the lie about God and the way He manifests and expresses Himself in and through His ideas. Everything is mental. We _must_ hold to that! The mental realm includes all truth, all fact. But there may be all sorts of supposition about this fact. And yet, while fact is based upon absolute and undeviating principle--and I believe that principle to be God--supposition is utterly without any rule or principle whatsoever. It is wholly subject to truth, to Principle, to God. Hence, bad or wrong thought is absolutely subject to good or real thought, and must go down before it. The mortal man is a product of wrong thought. He is a supposition; and so is the universe of matter in which he is supposed to live. We have already learned that the things he thinks he hears, feels, tastes, smells, and sees are only his own thoughts. And these turn out to be suppositions. Hence, they are nothing real." "Well, Padre! How fast you talk! And--such big words! I--I don't think I understand all you say. But, anyway, I guess it is right." She laughed again. "I _know_ it is right!" he exclaimed, forgetting that he was talking to a child. "Evil, which includes sickness and death, is only a false idea of good. It is a misinterpretation, made in the thought-activity which constitutes what we call the human consciousness. And that is the opposite--the suppositional opposite--of the mind that is God. Evil, then, becomes a supposition and a lie. Just what Jesus said it was!" "But, Padre--I don't see why you don't act as if you really believed all that!" "Fear--only fear! It has not yet been eradicated from my thought," he answered slowly. "But, Padre, what will drive it out?" "Love, child--love only, for 'perfect love casteth out fear.'" "Oh, then, Padre dear, I will just love it all out of you, every bit!" she exclaimed, clasping her arms about him again and burying her face in his shoulder. "Ah, little one," he said sadly, "I must love more. I must love my fellow-men and good more than myself and evil. If I didn't love myself so much, I would have no fear. If I loved God as you do, dearest child, I would never come under fear's heavy shadow." "You _do_ love everybody--you have got to, for you are God's child. And now," she added, getting down and drawing him toward the door, "let us go out of this smelly old church. I want you to come home. We've got to have our lessons, you know." "But--child, the people will not let me come near them--nor you either, now," he said, holding back. "They think we may give them the disease."