Now, [...] a week ago, I told you concerning a little girl. She didn’t call it repentance, her grandmother didn’t call it repentance, but she puts on an act, an imaginal act, and produced one after the other of these fantastic, lovely demonstrations. The grandmother went home that night and wrote me out the entire story in detail, and added one, which is a delightful story. The child was then only four, and she said to the child, “Now, Pammie, you know what you did to get the house for daddy and mother?” Yes. “And you know what you did to get the playhouse with all the toys.” Yes. “Well, now I would like a stereophonic machine for my records, but Daddy won’t give me one. He will not give me anything, and here I only have the same little radio that I had when I was a girl, when I was a child. That’s the only means in the house. And so I would like, really, this wonderful instrument to play the records. I want a slow one, a long one that would almost fill that wall. But an enormous one!” “Now, this is what we do, Pammie. You stand right here, close your eyes, but you don’t physically walk across, any more than you did when we got the house. But you do walk across the carpet, you walk across the room, and you go over and you feel this wonderful instrument. You feel the lovely wood and you see it, but your eyes are closed. But now you’re there physically. But you walk toward this instrument, and then you hear it. When you hear the music coming from it, you and I will dance. We’ll dance all over this room together. And so now let us play our little game.”827 ¶5