and original as she is about the one supreme
affair pertaining to her elastic receptacle--to quote a Tamil friend's
polite reference to the cavity within us--and many more edifying scenes
might have been shown from her eventful life. But undoubtedly the
predominating note at the present hour is her insatiable hunger, and
when her name is mentioned in the nursery there is a smile and a new
tale about her amazing appetite.

CHAPTER XXI

More Animals

[Illustration: MORE ANIMALS: DEPRESSED.

Nurses: Karuna to left (the Duckling of "Things as They Are"); and
Annamai, to right, Lulla's beloved.]

IN full contrast to Teddy-bear is that floppy child, the Coney. In
Hart's _Animals of the Bible_, there is a picture of this baby, only the
fore-paws should be raised in piteous appeal to be taken up. The Coney
is really a pretty child with pathetic eyes and a grateful smile; but
she was long in learning to walk, and felt aggrieved when we
remonstrated. Her feet, she considered, were created to be ornamental
rather than useful, and no amount of coaxing backed up with massage
could persuade her otherwise. So she was left behind in the march; and
when her contemporaries departed for the middle-aged babies' nursery,
she stayed behind with the infants. And the infants had no pity. They
regarded her as a sort of hassock, large and soft and good to jump on.
More than once we have come into the nursery and found the big, meek
child of three kneeling resignedly under a window upon which an
adventurous eighteen-months wished to climb; and often we have found her
prostrate and patient under the dancing feet of Dimples.

However, the Coney can walk now. This triumph was effected with the help
of an Indianised go-cart, which did what all our persuasions had
entirely failed to do. But the process was not pleasant. The poor Coney
would stand mournfully holding the handle of her instrument of torture,
longing with a yearning unspeakable to sit down and give it up for ever.
Someone would pass, and hope would rise in her heart. She would be
carried now, carried out of sight of that detested go-cart. But no, the
callous-hearted only urged her to proceed. She would howl then with a
howl that told of bitter disappointment. Sometimes she would sit down
flat and regard the thing with a blighting glance, the hatred of a
gentle nature roused to unwonted vehemence. Always her wails accompanied
the rumbling of its wheels.

"The Conies are bu