d a stick--a very feeble one--and calling up the
leader of all rebels, addressed herself to her. Chellalu, as might have
been expected, was taken by surprise; and for one short moment Esli was
permitted to follow the ways of the King. But only for a moment: for,
suddenly apprehending the gravity of the situation, and realising that
such precedent should not pass unchallenged, Chellalu, with a quick
wriggle, stood forth free, seized the stick with a joyous shout, snapped
it in two, and flourished round the room: then stopping before her
afflicted Accal, she solemnly handed her one of the pieces, and with a
bound and a scamper like a triumphant puppy, was off to the very end of
her world with the other half of that stick.

When the Elf came to us on March 6, 1901, and we began to know some of
the secrets of the Temple, we tried to save several little children,
but we failed. The thought of those first children with whom we came
into touch, but for whom all our efforts were unavailing, is
unforgettable. We see them still, little children--lost. But we partly
understand why we had to wait so long; we had not the workers then to
help us to take care of them. We had only some of the older Accals, who
could not have done it alone. These convert-girls, who now help us so
much, were in Hindu homes; some of them had not even heard of Christ,
whose love alone makes this work possible. For India is not England in
its view of such work. There is absolutely nothing attractive about it.
It is not "honourable work," like preaching and teaching. No money would
have drawn these workers to us. Work which has no clear ending, but
drifts on into the night if babies are young or troublesome--such work
makes demands upon devotion and practical unselfishness which appeal to
none but those who are prepared to love with the tireless love of the
mother. "I do not want people who come to me under certain reservations.
In battle you need soldiers who fear nothing." So wrote the heroic Pere
Didon; and, though it may sound presumptuous to do so, we say the same.
We want as comrades those who come to us without reservations. But such
workers have to be prepared, and such preparation takes time. "Tarry ye
the Lord's leisure," is a word that unfolds as we go on.

Yet we find that the work, though so demanding, is full of
compensations. The convert in her loneliness is welcomed into a family
where little children need her and will soon love her dearly. T