d her
friend Naveena, discovering something unusual in my room, escaped from
the ranks and went off to examine the mystery. I found them a moment
later gazing in astonished joy at the glories there revealed. "Who did
it all?" gasped Chellalu, whose intention, let us hope, was perfectly
reverent. "God did it all!"

The one kindergarten class taught entirely in Tamil is the Scripture
lesson, illustrated whenever possible by pictures; and being always
taught about sacred things in Tamil, the babies have no doubt about the
language in use in Bible days. But sometimes a little mind is puzzled,
as an instructive aside revealed a day or two ago. For their teacher had
told them in English, not as a Scripture lesson, but just as a story,
about Peter and John and the lame man. The picture was before them, and
they understood and followed keenly; but one little girl whispered to
another, who happened to be the well-informed Cock-robin: "Did Peter and
John talk English or Tamil?" "Tamil, of course!" returned Cock-robin,
without a moment's hesitation.

The Scripture lessons are usually given by Arulai, whose delight is
Bible teaching. "So that as much as lieth in you you will apply yourself
wholly to this one thing, and draw all your cares and studies this way,"
is a word that always comes to mind when one thinks of Arulai and her
Bible. She much enjoys taking the babies, believing that the impressions
created upon the mind of a little child are practically indelible.

Sometimes these impressions are expressed in vigorous fashion. Once the
subject of the class was the Good Samaritan. The babies were greatly
exercised over the scandalous behaviour of the priest and the Levite.
"Punish them! Let them have whippings!" they demanded. Arulai explained
further. But one baby got up from her seat and walked solemnly to the
picture. "Take care what you are doing!" she remarked impressively in
Tamil, shaking her finger at the two retreating backs. "Naughty!
naughty!"--this was in English--"take care!"

One of the favourite pictures shows Abraham and Isaac on the way to the
mount of sacrifice. This story was told one morning with much reverence
and feeling, and the babies were impressed. There were tears in Bala's
eyes as she gazed at the picture, but she brushed them away hurriedly
and hoped no one had noticed. Only Chellalu appeared perfectly
unconcerned. She had business of her own on hand, and the story, it
seemed, had not touched her.