We were in
the midst of this perplexity when Yosepu arrived. He stood in silence,
and then sighed, as his cheerful custom is. We made the usual inquiries
as to his health, physical and spiritual. Both soul and body (his
invariable order, never body and soul) were well, he said; his pulse did
not need to be felt to-day: no, there was something weightier upon his
mind. There are times when it is like extracting a tooth to get a
straight answer from Yosepu, for he resents directness in speech; he
thinks it barbarous. At last it came. "Aiyo! Aiyo!" (Alas! Alas!) "My
sun has set; but who am I, that I should complain or assault the decrees
of Providence? But Amma! remember the word of truth: 'Then shall ye
bring down my grey hairs with sorrow to the grave.'" And he slowly
unwound his wisp of a turban, held it in his folded hands, and shook
down his lanky, jet-black locks with a pathos that was almost sublime.

[Illustration: THE BELOVED TINGALU.]

It took time to pierce to the meaning of it: the children were being
scattered--the reason must be that we felt the bath-water carrying too
much for his powers through the hot weeks. It was not so! He was strong
to draw and to bear. The babies should never be deprived of their baths!
But to-day as he went to the well he had heard what broke his heart; and
he laid his hand upon the injured organ, and sighed with a sigh that
assured us his lungs at least were sound. "_Tingalu_ is to go away! The
apple of my eye! that golden child who smiles upon me, and says, 'Oh,
elder brother, good morning!' You are not going to leave her with me!
Therefore spake I the word of truth concerning my grey hairs." Then
quoting the text again, he turned and walked away.

Once the beloved Tingalu was slightly indisposed. She has not often the
privilege of being ill, and so, when the opportunity offers, she does
the invalid thoroughly; it would be a pity, Tingalu thinks, to be
anything but correct. But Yosepu was much concerned. He appeared in the
early morning with his usual cough and sigh. "Amma! Tingalu is ill!"
"She will soon be better, Yosepu; she is having medicine." "What sort of
medicine, Amma?" and Yosepu mentioned the kind he thought suitable.
"That is exactly what she has had; you will see her playing about
to-morrow." "But no smile is on her face to-day; I fear for the
babe." (Tingalu never smiles when ill. Invalids should not smile.)
Yosepu suggested another medicine to supplement the first,