s in progress,
and from three classes at once babies come springing towards her with
squeals of joy, and they clasp her knees and look up with eyes full of
affection and confidence in their welcome. "Go back to your place!" she
says, and tries to look severe; with a chuckle the children obey, and
she looks round and takes notes.

Chellalu is lying full-length on the bench, with a look of supreme
content on her face, and her two feet against the wall. Pyarie has
turned her back to the picture that is being shown, and is tying a
handkerchief round her head. Ruhinie, an India-rubber-ball sort of baby,
has suddenly bounced up from her seat, and is starting a chorus, of
which she is fond, at the top of her not very gentle voice; and Komala,
a perfect sprite, is tickling the child who sits next to her. "Sittie!"
exclaims the distracted teacher, "they won't learn anything!" Or if she
happens to be the Mouse, she is calmly engaged with the one good child
in her class.

The next group is stringing beads on pieces of wire. "Look, look!" and
an eager babe holds out her wire for admiration, and probably spills her
beads in her effort to secure attention. If she does, there is a general
scramble, beads rolling loose on the floor being quite irresistible. One
wicked baby sits by herself and strings her beads on her curls.

A few minutes later it is mat-plaiting; and the agile little fingers are
diligently weaving pieces of blue and yellow material, bits over from
their elder sisters' garments, beautifully unconscious that they are
supposed to be working the colours alternately. Sometimes in the gayest
way they exclaim: "Sittie! It's wrong! it's wrong!" Occasionally there
is a howl from a child who has been pinched by another, or whose
neighbour has helped herself to her beads. Sittie crosses the room
hurriedly. "What's the matter?" With tears rolling down her cheeks the
victim points to her oppressor. "May you do that?" is the invariable
English question. It is answered by a shake of the head, the tiniest
baby understanding that particular remark. The injured baby smiles. A
reproof, or at worst a pat on the fat arm next to hers, satisfies her
sense of justice, and she is content.

When an English lesson begins, those afflicted with delicate nerves are
happier elsewhere. One class has a toy farmyard, another a set of
tea-things, the third a doll which every member of the class is aching
to embrace. The teachers and children alike