L. That is to say, I know that people are called saints who are supposed to be better than others: but I don't know how much better they must be, in order to be saints; nor how nearly anybody may be a saint, and yet not be quite one; nor whether everybody who is called a saint was one; nor whether everybody who isn't called a saint, isn't one. (General silence; the audience feeling themselves on the verge of the Infinities--and a little shocked--and much puzzled by so many questions at once.) L. Besides, did you never hear that verse about being--called to be "saints"? MAY (repeats Rom. i. 7). L. Quite right, May. Well, then, who are called to be that? People in Rome only? MAY. Everybody, I suppose, whom God loves. L. What! little girls as well as other people? MAY. All grown-up people, I mean. L. Why not little girls? Are they wickeder when they are little? MAY. Oh, I hope not. L Why not little girls, then? (Pause) LILY. Because, you know we can't be worth anything if we're ever so good,--I mean, if we try to be ever so good and we can't do difficult things--like saints. L I am afraid, my dear that old people are not more able or willing for their difficulties than you children are for yours. All I can say is, that if ever I see any of you, when you are seven or eight and twenty, knitting your brows over any work you want to do or to understand as I saw you Lily knitting your brows over your slate this morning I should think you very noble women. But--to come back to my dream--St Barbara did lose her temper a little, and I was not surprised. For you can't think how provoking Neith looked, sitting there just like a statue of sandstone, only going on weaving like a machine and never quickening the cast of her shuttle, while St Barbara was telling her so eagerly all about the most beautiful things and chattering away, as fast as bells ring on Christmas Eve, till she saw that Neilh didn't care, and then St Barbara got as red as a rose, and stopped just in time,-- or I think she would really have said something naughty. ISABEL Oh please, but didn't Neith say anything then? L. Yes. She said, quite quietly, "It may be very pretty, my love; but it is all nonsense." ISABEL. Oh dear, oh dear; and then? L. Well; then I was a little angry myself, and hoped St. Barbara would be quite angry; but she wasn't. She bit her lips first; and then gave a great sigh--such a wild, sweet sigh--and then she knelt down and hid her face on Neith's knees. Then Neith smiled a little, and was moved. ISABEL. Oh, I am so glad!