"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 was as squalid and repulsive a picture as could well be imagined.
"Yes," replied Lottie, looking into his face with twinkling eyes, "was that sweet pastoral scene an expression of creative thought?"
"The woman certainly was not," he answered, reddening. "A thought may be greatly perverted."
"Whatever moral qualities may be asserted of her manners, costume, and character," said Harcourt, "she is not to blame for the cast of her features and the color of her hair. I scarcely know of an artist who would express any such thought, unless he wished to satirize humanity."