"So did you and I, Flemild; and He bids us love one another." Flemild stood struck with astonishment, her kerchief half off her head. "I crucified our Lord!" she exclaimed. "Ermine, what can you mean?" "Sin crucified Him," said Ermine quietly; "your sins and mine, was it not? If He died not for our sins, we shall have to bear them ourselves. And did He not die for Countess too?" "I thought He died for those who are in holy Church; and Countess is a wicked heathen Jew." "Yes, for holy Church, which means those whom God has chosen out of the world. How can you know that Countess is not some day to be a member of holy Church?" "Ermine, they are regular wicked people!" "We are all wicked people, till God renews us by His Holy Spirit." "I'm not!" cried Flemild indignantly; "and I don't believe you are either." "Ah, Flemild, that is because you are blind. Sin has darkened our eyes; we cannot see ourselves." "Ermine, do you mean to say that you see me a wicked creature like a Jew?" "By nature, I am as blind as you, Flemild." "`By nature'! What do you mean? _Do_ you see me so?" "Flemild, dear friend, what if God sees it?" Ermine had spoken very softly and tenderly, but Flemild was not in a mood to appreciate the tenderness. "Well!" she said in a hard tone. "If we are so dreadfully wicked, I wonder you like to associate with us." "But if I am equally wicked?" suggested Ermine with a smile. "I wonder how you can hold such an opinion of yourself. I should not like to think myself so bad. I could not bear it." Flemild entertained the curious opinion--it is astonishing how many people unwittingly hold it--that a fact becomes annihilated by a man shutting his eyes to it. Ermine regarded her with a look of slight amusement. "What difference would it make if I did not think so?" she asked. Flemild laughed, only then realising the absurdity of her own remark. It augured well for her good sense that she could recognise the absurdity when it was pointed out to her. Coming down the ladder, they found Anania seated below. "Well, girls! did you see the Queen?" "Oh, we had a charming view of her," said Flemild. "Folks say she's not so charming, seen a bit nearer. You know Veka, the wife of Chembel? She told me she'd heard Dame Ediva de Gathacra say the Queen's a perfect fury when she has her back up. Some of the scenes that are to be seen by nows and thens in Westminster Palace are enough to set your hair on end. And her extravagance! Will you believe it, Dame Ediva said, this last year she gave over twenty pounds for one robe. How many gowns would that buy you and me, Aunt Isel?" At the present value of money, Her Majesty's robe cost rather more than 500. "Bless you, I don't know," was Isel's answer. "Might be worth cracking my head over, if I were to have one of 'em when I'd done. But there's poor chance of that, I reckon; so I'll let it be." "They say she sings superbly," said Flemild.