"So you imagine!"

I smiled.

"So I KNOW!"

A vague expression flitted over her face,--an expression with which
I had become familiar. She was a most lovable and intelligent
creature, but she could not think very far,--the effort wearied and
perplexed her.

"Well, then, it must be an everlasting skirmish, I suppose!" she
said, laughingly,--"I wonder if our souls will ever get tired!"

"Do you think God ever gets tired?" I asked.

She looked startled,--then amused.

"He ought to!" she declared, with vivacity--"I don't mean to be
irreverent, but really, what with all the living things in all the
millions of worlds trying to get what they ought not to have, and
wailing and howling when they are disappointed of their wishes, He
ought to be very, very tired!"

"But He is not,"--I said;--"If He were, there would indeed be an end
of all! Should the Creator be weary of His work, the work would be
undone. I wish we thought of this more often!"

She put her arm round me kindly.