"
"I think I like Jesus better than God," said Mark, going off at a
tangent. He felt that there were too many points of resemblance between
his own father and God to make it prudent to persevere with the
discussion. On the subject of his father he always found his mother
strangely uncomprehending, and the only times she was really angry with
him was when he refused out of his basic honesty to admit that he loved
his father.
"But Our Lord _is_ God," Mrs. Lidderdale protested.
Mark wrinkled his face in an effort to confront once more this eternal
puzzle.
"Don't you remember, darling, three Persons and one God?"
Mark sighed.
"You haven't forgotten that clover-leaf we picked one day in Kensington
Gardens?"
"When we fed the ducks on the Round Pond?"
"Yes, darling, but don't think about ducks just now. I want you to think
about the Holy Trinity."
"But I can't understand the Holy Trinity, Mother," he protested.
"Nobody can understand the Holy Trinity. It is a great mystery."
"Mystery," echoed Mark, taking pleasure in the word. It always thrilled
him, that word, ever since he first heard it used by Dora the servant
when she could not find her rolling-pin.
"Well, where that rolling-pin's got to is a mystery," she had declared.
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