"Yes. And then—Colin—when he talks it isn't like anybody here. Not like Miss Robins, one 'least' little bit. Or like—. No, I don't think he says things in the way you do. Only you would like him. Colin feels and understands. He is different from other people. And I think his goodness—his religion—somehow has to be different, to fit his mind. If I were to say that to Barbara, she would think it wicked. Is it? I can't help feeling so when I'm with him." "There are many developments of Christ-likeness." "You don't think he must be wrong because he says things in a different way from—what you would?" The Vicar's smile was beautiful. It showed a new side of him. She wondered—had Colin opened her eyes with regard to human beings as well as inanimate Nature? Mr. Hazel made another halt, letting the cob browse. He led Phyllys to the edge, where a steep slope fell away towards a wide extent of country, bounded by hills. Across the plain meandered a river, shining like silver in sunlight. There were green meadows; and in one direction lay ploughed fields. He drew her attention to each. "The same sun shines upon all. But not all surfaces can respond equally to his shining. Is it the fault of the brown earth that it remains dull? He who made water and grass made earth also. Will He be unfair in His expectations? Will He blame the soil because it cannot respond to His light with green beauty like grass, or gleam and flash like water? Would it be right of the river to condemn the grass because it does not shine? Or of the grass to declare earth a failure because it is not green? Or of the earth to condemn grass and water for giving a different response from its own? In each case the make has much to say to results. And—God made it." Phyllys' face grew radiant. "I never saw that before! Why did you not tell me? It would have been a help." "You were not ripe for it earlier. This visit has brought you on. You are older." Then, after a break, "But to decide which of those about us is, in the Divine sight, as earth or grass or water, lies beyond our power." Phyllys blushed. She had already been thinking that Barbara was like dull earth. "I'll try to be fair," she replied, and when they reached the Cottage no trace remained of past billows. Barbara had expected a storm, and though she would not admit the fact, she was a trifle relieved, even touched, by "the child's" forbearance. CHAPTER XXII THINGS THAT SHOULD BE IF Giles had lived through years in a week when he awoke to his love for Phyllys, Phyllys lived through months in three weeks, while striving to reduce a chaos of new ideas to what has been called "a workable philosophy of life."