There was a man who lived in a cottage at the edge of a village, where he worked as a cobbler, and did all he could to look after his daughter. He was a widower, for his wife had died some years before, and as she was leaving this life she had begged him to see that their child was brought up a believer in the All-Pervading God. Therefore the man was always happy when the girl took time to say her prayers.

Every morning she faithfully took time for her devotions before she left for school, and the cobbler saw that her face changed from this, becoming more peaceful and bright. But one thing puzzled the man, and that was a custom she had made for herself that she did not say her prayers in the cottage, but went outside and a little way into the trees that stood nearby, regardless of the weather.

One day, the cobbler decided to speak to his daughter about this. “Daughter, God is everywhere, isn’t He?”

“Yes, Papa,” she replied, “absolutely everywhere.”

“And He is the same God in the woods as He is here in the house, isn’t He?”

“Certainly, Papa. Why?”

“Because I wonder, if He is the same here as in the woods, why you say your prayers there, and not here in the house.”

“Because, Papa,” the girl said patiently, “of course God is the same everywhere – but I am not.”