with him an even haughtier wife, both convinced that Germany
was appointed by God to govern the world. Aunt Juley would
come the next day, convinced that Great Britain had been
appointed to the same post by the same authority. Were both
these loud-voiced parties right? On one occasion they had
met, and Margaret with clasped hands had implored them to
argue the subject out in her presence. Whereat they
blushed, and began to talk about the weather. "Papa" she
cried--she was a most offensive child--"why will they not
discuss this most clear question?" Her father, surveying
the parties grimly, replied that he did not know. Putting
her head on one side, Margaret then remarked, "To me one of
two things is very clear; either God does not know his own
mind about England and Germany, or else these do not know
the mind of God." A hateful little girl, but at thirteen she
had grasped a dilemma that most people travel through life
without perceiving. Her brain darted up and down; it grew
pliant and strong. Her conclusion was, that any human being
lies nearer to the unseen than any organization, and from
this she never varied.

Helen advanced along the same lines, though with a more
irresponsible tread. In character she resembled her sister,
but she was pretty, and so apt to have a more amusing time.
People gathered round her more readily, especially when they
were new acquaintances, and she did enjoy a little homage
very much. When their father died and they ruled alone at
Wickham Place, she often absorbed the whole of the company,
while Margaret--both were tremendous talkers--fell flat.
Neither sister bothered about this. Helen never apologized