r in the bungalow,
Chellalu would wander off, apparently because she was tired of us, but
really because she was full of a new and original idea, and wanted an
audience. Once she puzzled the nursery community who had not been
visiting the bungalow, by mincing about on pointed toes, with shoulders
shrugged like a dancing master in caricature. The babies thought this a
very nice game, and for weeks they played it industriously.

Chellalu talked late--she has long ago made up for lost time--but she
was never at a loss for an answer to a question which could be answered
by action. "Who is in the nursery now?" we asked her one afternoon when
she had escaped before the tea-bell, that trumpet of jubilee to the
nursery, had rung. She smiled and sat down slowly, and then sighed.
Another sigh, and she proceeded to perform her toilet. When the small
hands went up to the head with an action of decorously swinging the back
hair up and coiling it into a loose knot, and when a spasmodic shake
suggested it must be done over again, there was no doubt as to who was
in charge. No one but the excellent Pakium, one of our earlier workers,
ever did things quite like this. No one else was so ponderous. No one
sighed in that middle-aged manner, no one but Pakium. We never could
blame Pakium for Chellalu's escape. As well blame a mature cat for the
escapades of her kitten. Chellalu, watching for a clue as to her fate,
would sigh again profoundly. It was never easy to return her.

[Illustration: "OH, IT'S A JOKE!"]

We were not sorry when this phase passed into something safer for
herself, though perhaps not so charming to the public. Chellalu at two
and three-quarters had surgical ambitions. Medical work she considered
slow. She liked operations. Her first, so far as we know, was performed
upon the unwilling eye of a smaller and weaker sister. "Lie down!" she
had commanded, and the patient had lain down. "Open your eyes!" At this
point the victim realised what she was in for, and her howls brought
deliverance; but not before Chellalu had the agitated baby's head in a
firm grip between her knees, and holding the screwed-up eye wide open
with one hand, was proceeding to drop in "medicine" with the other.
Mercifully the medicine was water.

Thwarted in this direction, Chellalu applied herself to bandaging. She
would persuade someone to lend her a finger or a toe; the owner was
assured it was sore--very sore. She would then proceed to bandage it