And appalling
visions rose of Chellalu standing on the wall of the well looking down,
or sitting in the bucket left by some careless water-drawer just on the
edge of the wall, or trying to descend by the rope.

Before this date such diversions as the classic Pattycake had been much
in favour. Chellalu's Attai (the word here and hereafter signifies Mrs.
Walker, "Mother's elder sister") had taught it to her; and whenever and
wherever Chellalu saw her Attai, she immediately began to perform "Prick
it and nick it" with great enthusiasm. But after she could walk,
Chellalu would have nothing more to do with such childish things. "Show
us Edward Rajah!" the older children would say; and instead of standing
up with a regal dignity and crowning her curls with the appropriate
gesture, Chellalu would merely look surprised. They had forgotten. She
was not a baby now. Such trifles are for babies.

CHAPTER III

The Scamp

"PAT-A-CAKE is a thing of the past, but the stage from the highest point
of view is still distinctly attractive"; so decided Chellalu, and
resolved to devote herself thenceforth to this new and engrossing
pursuit. She chose the scene of her first public performance without
consulting us. It was the open floor of the church, on a Sunday morning,
in the midst of a large congregation. This was how it happened.

Chellalu's Attai, who in those days was unaware of all the painful
surprises in store, had taken her to morning service, and allowed her to
sit beside her on the mat at the back of the church. All through the
first part of the service Chellalu was good; and as the sermon began,
she was forgotten. In our church we sit on the floor, men on one side,
women and children on the other. A broad aisle is left between, and the
Iyer (Mr. Walker), refusing to be boxed up in the usual manner, walks up
and down as he preaches. This interested Chellalu.

That morning the sermon was to children, and the subject was "Girdles."
The East of this ancient India is the East to which the prophet spoke by
parable and picture; and, following that time-worn path, the preacher
pictured the parable of Jeremiah's linen girdle: the attention of the
people was riveted upon him, and no one noticed what was happening on
the mat at the end of the church. Only we, up at the front with all the
other children, saw, without being able to stop it, the dreadful
pantomime. For Chellalu, wholly absorbed and pleased with this
unexpected d