tion is
intense. The others are equally astonished. White people as servants!
The two ideas clash. They have never seen a white servant. In all their
extensive acquaintance with white people they have only seen
missionaries (who are truly their servants, though they hardly realise
it yet), and occasionally Government officials, whose mastership is very
much in evidence. So they are puzzled. They get out of the difficulty,
however. "At the beginning of the beginning of England, black people
must have gone to be the white people's servants, and they gradually
grew white." Yes, that's it apparently; they faded.

The conversation springs higher. "Do you know what lightning is? I'll
tell you. I watched it one whole evening, and I think it's just a little
bit of heaven's light coming through and going back again." This sounds
probable, and great interest is aroused. They are discussing the sheet
lightning which plays about the sky in the evening before rain. "Of
course it isn't much of heaven's light, only a little tiny bit getting
out and running down here to show us what it is like inside. One night I
shut my eyes, and it ran in and out, in and out, oh so fast! Even if I
shut my eyes I saw it running inside my eyes."

"Did you get caned in school to-day?"

"No, not exactly caned," and an explanation follows. "I was standing
beside a very naughty little girl, and the teacher meant to cane her,
but the cane fell on me by mistake. I wanted to cry, because it hurt,
but I thought it would be silly to cry when it hurt me quite by mistake.
So I didn't cry one tear!"

The Elf hit upon a capital expedient for escaping castigation (which is
never very severe). "I found this cane myself. It was lying on the
ground in the compound, and I am going to take it to the teacher."
Chorus of "Why?" "Because," and the Elf looked elfish, "if I give it to
him with my own hands, how will he cane my hands with it? His heart will
not be hard enough to cane me with the cane I gave him!" and the little
scamp looks round for applause. Chorus of admiring "Oh!"

Then they begin again, the Elf as usual chief informant. "I know
something!" Chorus, "What?" "A beautiful doll is waiting for me in a
box, and I'm going to have it at Ki-rismas!" "What sort of a doll?" is
the eager inquiry. "I don't know exactly, but God sent it, of course, so
I think it must be something like an angel." Chorus, delightedly, "Ah!"
"Yes, if it came from God, then of course it