Barbara, Miss Robins, even Mrs. Wyverne, with all her single-hearted devotion, knew nothing of the many-sidedness of truth. The simple fact that Christ is truth, and that in possessing Him a man possesses Divine truth, they recognised verbally; but the Impossibility that any human mind should grasp truth in its completeness, because no man can grasp God, they did not see. It was with them as with Giles on the foggy moor. Each walked in her tiny circle of mist, perceiving a patch of grass, a bush; while of the world, the Universe, beyond, nothing was visible. Giles had known, though he could not see, that a world, a Universe, did exist. They, walking in their foggy circles, did not believe in aught beyond. Yet, despite these limitations, Mrs. Wyverne lived a life which many of loftier conceptions might have envied; for it was a life of personal knowledge of God, of personal intercourse with her Heavenly Father, little hindered by the narrowness of her theories. The theories were on one plane; the life lived was on another. She fell into the error of severely judging those from whom she differed: yet even this she did as a high Christian duty, "verily thinking that she ought," and not from lack of love. "They won't see! They won't understand," Phyllys one day broke out. The Vicar, in his shabbiest coat, tended a large rose-bed, his pride and delight. Some fine blooms lingered still. "I would put a 'can't' for the 'won't,'" he suggested. "Barbara says there is no such thing as 'fineness' in human nature. I said Giles had a fine character. And he has! And she said that was wrong, for human nature is all failure and wickedness." "Ah, we learn to know others by ourselves. She finds it so, does she?" Phyllys laughed. The Vicar always brought her round. "And when I told her that he was a really good man, she was horrified. She says no man is good." "Miss Pringle is wiser than her Bible. She should hunt out the word with a Concordance." "And she says the idea of singing prayers in Church is foolish—nobody can pray, singing. It is all outward show." "Doubtless Miss Pringle cannot!" The Vicar chuckled, recalling grim sounds wont to issue from Mrs. Wyverne's pew. "She is not precisely musical." "You don't think that?" "Certainly not. Music, like any art, may become an avenue to higher things—but only with those capable of using it. To my mind, the highest uses of music are for the noblest purposes—above all, for God's children, addressing their Father in concert. But, my little girl, you can't make everybody see as you see. Some can pray, singing; some can only pray, speaking. Some can speak to God in poetry, some only in prose. Our Father in heaven hears all, understands all. No use to try to stuff our own opinions down other people's throats." "Only, if one knows they are wrong—!" "For the matter of that, Miss Pringle knows you are wrong." "Must one never persuade them to think differently?"