e is sure of you. Seela is
that sort of baby. We have watched her when she has been approached by
some unfamiliar presence, and seen her summon all her baby dignity to
keep her from breaking into tears of overwhelming shyness. Give her time
to observe you from under long, drooping lashes; give her time to make
sure--then the mischief will sparkle out, and something of the real
child. But only something, never all, till you become a relation; with
those who are only acquaintances Seela, like Bala, has many reserves.

Seela's joy is to be considered old and allowed to go to the
kindergarten. She takes her place with the bigger babies, and tries to
do all she sees them do. Sometimes a visitor looks in, and then Seela,
naturally, will do nothing; but if the visitor is wise and takes no
notice, she will presently be rewarded by seeing the eager little face
light up again, and the fat hands busily at work. Seela is not supposed
to be learning very seriously; but she seems to know nearly as much as
some of the older children, and her quaint attempts at English are much
appreciated. Seela has her faults. She likes to have her own way, and
once was observed to slap severely an offender almost twice her own
size; but on the whole she is a peaceful little person, beloved by all
the other babies, both senior and junior. Her great ambition is to
follow Chellalu into all possible places of mischief. Anything Chellalu
can do Seela will attempt; and as she is more brave than steady on her
little feet, she has many a narrow escape. Her latest escapade was to
follow her reckless leader in an attempt to walk round the top of the
back of a large armchair, the cane rim of which is a slippery slant, two
inches wide.

On the morning of her arrival, not liking to leave her even for a few
minutes, I carried her to the early tea-table, when she saw the Iyer and
smiled her first smile to him. From that day on she has been his loyal
little friend. At first his various absences from home perplexed her.
She would toddle off to his room and hunt everywhere for him, even under
his desk and behind his waste-paper basket, and then she returned to the
dining-room with a puzzled little face. "Iyer is not!" "Where is he,
Seela?" "Gone to Heaven!" was her invariable reply. When he returned
from that distant sphere she never displayed the least surprise. That is
not our babies' way. She calmly accepted him as a returned possession;
stood by his chair waitin