One day, however, a visitor called whose presence was not so sympathetic.  This was Mr Sheepshanks, the vicar.  Of course he was quite right to call—­indeed it would have been an unpardonable omission had he not done so; at the same time his little furtive movements and professional air of solemnity got on Austin’s nerves, and produced a sense of irritation that was certainly not conducive to his well-being.  At last the point was reached to which the vicar had been gradually leading up, and he suggested that, now that it had pleased Providence to stretch Austin on a couch of pain, it was advisable that he should think about making his peace with God.

“Make my peace with God?” repeated Austin, opening his eyes.  “What about?  We haven’t quarrelled!”

“My dear young friend, that is scarcely the way for a creature to speak of its relations with its Creator,” said the vicar, gravely shocked.

“Isn’t it?” said Austin.  “I’m very sorry; I thought you were hinting that I had some grudge against the Creator, and that I ought to make it up.  Because I haven’t, not in the very least.  I’ve had a lovely life, and I’m more obliged to Him for it than I can say.”

“Ahem,” coughed the vicar dubiously.  “One scarcely speaks of being obliged to the Almighty, my dear Austin.  We owe Him our everlasting gratitude for His mercies to us, and when we think how utterly unworthy the best of us are of the very least attention on His part——­”

“I don’t see that at all,” interrupted Austin.  “On the contrary, seeing that God brought us all into existence without consulting any one of us I think we have a right to expect a great deal of attention on His part.  Surely He has more responsibility towards somebody He has made than that somebody has towards Him.  That’s only common sense, it seems to me.”

The vicar thought he had never had such an unmanageable penitent to deal with since he took orders.  “But how about sin?” he suggested, shifting his ground.  “Have you no sense of sin?”

“I’m almost afraid not,” acknowledged Austin, with well-bred concern.  “Ought I to have?”

“We all ought to have,” replied the vicar sternly.  “We have all sinned, and come short of the glory of God.”

“I don’t see how we could have done otherwise,” remarked Austin, who was getting rather bored.  “Little people like us can’t be expected to come up to a standard which I suppose implies divine perfection.  I dare say I’ve done lots of sins, but for the life of me I’ve no idea what they were.  I don’t think I ever thought about it.”

“It’s time you thought about it now, then,” said the vicar, getting up.  “I won’t worry you any more to-day, because I see you’re tired.  But I shall pray for you, and when next I come I hope you’ll understand my meaning more clearly than you do at present.”

“That is very kind of you,” said Austin, putting out his almost transparent hand.  “I’m awfully sorry to give you so much trouble.  You’ll see Aunt Charlotte before you go away?  I know she’ll expect you to go in for a cup of tea.”