n better three-cornered: and when Neith
told her the measures of the Parthenon, St. Barbara said she thought it
ought to have had two transepts. But she was pleased when Neith told her
of the temple of the dew, and of the Caryan maidens bearing its frieze:
and then she thought that perhaps Neith would like to hear what sort of
temples she was building herself, in the French valleys, and on the
crags of the Rhine. So she began gossiping, just as one of you might to
an old lady: and certainly she talked in the sweetest way in the world
to Neith; and explained to her all about crockets and pinnacles: and
Neith sat, looking very grave; and always graver as St. Barbara went on;
till at last, I'm sorry to say, St. Barbara lost her temper a little.

MAY (_very grave herself_). 'St. Barbara?'

L. Yes, May. Why shouldn't she? It was very tiresome of Neith to sit
looking like that.

MAY. But, then, St. Barbara was a saint!

L. What's that, May?

MAY. A saint! A saint is--I am sure you know!

L. If I did, it would not make me sure that you knew too, May: but I
don't.

VIOLET (_expressing the incredulity of the audience_). Oh,--sir!

L. That is to say, I know that people are called saints who are supposed
to be better than others: but I don't know how much better they must be,
in order to be saints; nor how nearly anybody may be a saint, and yet
not be quite one; nor whether everybody who is called a saint was one;
nor whether everybody who isn't called a saint, isn't one.

(_General silence; the audience feeling themselves on the
verge of the Infinities--and a little shocked--and much
puzzled by so many questions at once._)

L. Besides, did you never hear that verse about being 'called to be
saints'?

MAY (_repeats Rom._ i. 7.)

L. Quite right, May. Well, then, who are called to be that? People in
Rome only?

MAY. Everybody, I suppose, whom God loves.

L. What! little girls as well as other people?

MAY. All grown-up people, I mean.

L. Why not little girls? Are they wickeder when they are little?

MAY. Oh, I hope not.

L. Why not little girls, then?

(_Pause._)

LILY. Because, you know, we can't be worth anything if we're ever so
good;--I mean, if we try to be ever so good; and we can't do difficult
things--like saints.

L. I am afraid, my dear, that old people are not more able or willing
for their difficulties than you children are for yours. All I can say
is, that if ever I see