"To me all the countless forms in nature," said Hemstead, "prove an
infinite mind gratifying itself. They are expressions of creative
thought."

"Nonsense! God doesn't bother with such little things as these."

"We do not know what seems small or great to Him. The microscope
reveals as much in one direction as the telescope in another, and
the common house-fly seems in size midway in animal life."

"And do you believe that the Divine hand is employed in forming
such trifles as these?"

"The Divine will is. But these trifles make the avalanche and the
winter's protection for next year's harvest."

"What is that?" asked Harcourt from the front seat, where he was
driving.

"Do you know," cried Lottie, "that Mr Hemstead thinks everything
we see, even to nature's smallest trifles, an 'expression of the
Divine creative thought.'"

"Is that scene such an expression?" asked Harcourt, with a sneering
laugh, in which the others joined.

By the road-side there was a small hovel, at the door of which a
half-fed, ill-conditioned pig was squealing. When they were just
opposite, a slatternly, carroty-headed woman opened the door, and
raised her foot to drive the clamorous beast away. Altogether, it