"Why, yes; I've always supposed it did. I've thought that perhaps God made him perfect in the first place and then, somehow, He let him get all wrong. I can't see how or why, though I've heard ministers and other people say 'it was for some wise purpose.' It's a great muddle, I think," Dorothy concluded, with a sigh.
"No, God never let any of His children 'get wrong.' He could not, for 'all His ways are perfect,' you know. The man of God's creating is the spiritual image and likeness of Himself," Katherine explained.
"Oh-o! I begin to see. Why, papa, don't you see? That must be what that verse means—the express image of His person—His character!" and Dorothy turned to her father, her face all aglow as she grasped this new thought.
"No, don't go just yet," she pleaded, as Katherine made another effort to release her hand. "Tell me this, please: if everybody became good, perfect in character, would their bodies grow perfect, too? would sick people get strong and well and happy?"
"I believe God's Word teaches us so," said Katherine, softly, and wondering why Prof. Seabrook did not put a stop to a conversation which he must know was trespassing upon forbidden ground.
"How could they? I wish I knew how," said the child, plaintively.
"You know Paul tells us, 'Be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind,' and to 'put off the mortal and put on the immortal.'"
"'Put off the mortal,'" repeated the girl, with a look of perplexity, "but how?"
"It is a growth, dear; it is to put out of mind, one by one, every wrong thought, and think only good thoughts—God's thoughts—and in this way one grows good, pure and perfect. Let us take a simple illustration," Katherine continued, as she saw how eagerly the child was drinking in her words. "You have seen a lily bulb?"
Dorothy nodded.