For a minute or two neither spoke.

I was the first to break the silence.
"What does it all mean ?" I said.
"A good question!" he rejoined: "nobody knows what anything is; a man can learn only what a thing means! Whether he do, depends on the use he is making of it." "I have made no use of anything yet!" "Not much; but you know the fact, and that is something! Most people take more than a lifetime to learn that they have learned nothing, and done less! At least you have not been without the desire to be of use!" "I did want to do something for the children--the precious Little Ones, I mean." "I know you did--and started the wrong way!" "I did not know the right way." "That is true also--but you are to blame that you did not." "I am ready to believe whatever you tell me--as soon as I understand what it means." "Had you accepted our invitation, you would have known the right way.
When a man will not act where he is, he must go far to find his work." "Indeed I have gone far, and got nowhere, for I have not found my work! I left the children to learn how to serve them, and have only learned the danger they are in." "When you were with them, you were where you could help them: you left your work to look for it! It takes a wise man to know when to go away; a fool may learn to go back at once!" "Do you mean, sir, I could have done something for the Little Ones by staying with them ?" "Could you teach them anything by leaving them ?" "No; but how could I teach them?
I did not know how to begin.

Besides, they were far ahead of me!" "That is true.

But you were not a rod to measure them with! Certainly, if they knew what you know, not to say what you might have known, they would be ahead of you--out of sight ahead! but you saw they were not growing--or growing so slowly that they had not yet developed the idea of growing! they were even afraid of growing!--You had never seen children remain children!" "But surely I had no power to make them grow!" "You might have removed some of the hindrances to their growing!" "What are they?
I do not know them.

I did think perhaps it was the want of water!" "Of course it is! they have none to cry with!" "I would gladly have kept them from requiring any for that purpose!" "No doubt you would--the aim of all stupid philanthropists! Why, Mr.
Vane, but for the weeping in it, your world would never have become worth saving! You confess you thought it might be water they wanted: why did not you dig them a well or two ?" "That never entered my mind!" "Not when the sounds of the waters under the earth entered your ears ?" "I believe it did once.