Thou revealest or promisest concerning Thyself, so long as I do
not see or fully enjoy Thee, is too little, and fails to satisfy me.

"Because, indeed, my heart cannot truly rest nor be entirely contented
unless it rest in Thee, and rise above all Thy gifts and all things
created.

"When shall I fully recollect myself in Thee, that through the love of
Thee I may not feel myself but Thee alone, above all feeling and measure
in a manner not known to all?"

CHAPTER XIV

Pickles and Puck

[Illustration: "PICKLES" AND HER FRIENDS.

"Pickles" sits with her thumb in her mouth, distrustful of
photographers.]

"AMMA! Amma!" then in baby Tamil, "Salala has come!" And one of the most
enticing of the little interruptions to a steady hour's work scrambles
over the raised doorstep, tripping and tumbling in her eagerness to get
in. Now she is staggering happily about the room on fat, uncertain feet.
Upsets are nothing to Sarala. She shakes herself, rubs a bumped head,
smiles if you smile down at her, and picks herself up with a sturdy
independence that promises something for her future. She has travelled
to-day, stopping only to visit her Prema Sittie, a long way across the
field all by herself. She has braved tumbles and captures, for her nurse
may any minute discover her flight; and even now, safe in port, she
keeps a wary eye on the door which opens on the nursery side of the
compound. If she thinks I am about to suggest her departure, she
immediately engages me in some interest of her own. She has ways and
wiles unknown to any baby but herself; and if all seems likely to fail,
she sits down on the floor, and first puts out her lower lip as far as
it will go, and then springs up, climbs over you, clings with all four
limbs at once, and buries her curly tangle deep into your neck. But if
the case is hopeless, she sits down on the floor again and digs her
small fists into her eyes, in silent indignation and despair. Then
comes a howl impossible to smother, and at last such bitter bursts of
woe as nothing short of dire necessity can force you to provoke. This is
Sarala, one of the most affectionate, most wilful, most winsome of all
the babies. She is truthful. She has just this moment pulled a
drawing-pin out of its place, which happened to be within reach, and her
solemn "Aiyo!" (Alas!) "Look, Amma!" shows she feels she has sinned, but
wants to confess. Life will have many a battle for this baby; but surely
if she is